W r i t i n g .
Narrative
2017 / 2018
(Extended Version)
Red: she wore it once, picture of innocence, that fiery colour upon her lips, suggesting something beyond her, telling so much yet she revealed so little.
Sifting through soft shadows of a starlit universe
There’s beauty found in ugliness
Stumbling and tumbling through sodden sheets of rough cotton and moist perspiration
Inexplicable feeling, the knowledge of something misplaced, a suffocating unease
Breathlessness awakening
Don’t worry honey
Tingling skin, touching him, him, touching me, touching
A feeling of skin against skin. Against soft tufts of bar, wrinkling shirts, velvet skirts,
Uncontrollable events evolving the question within my mind. What is wrong with me. Yet the question would only be answered by falling in love once again. Although not with another, but in fact myself.
Wlaking through a shattered daylight caressing the soft leaves as they trickle down my back, a lake , a new form of lighting in the rainbow coloured sunset sky.
Grass grows quicker hear as if it has been taking too many caffeine tablets and decided to dance faster towards the sunlight. A bizarre tap dance of sorts, that cracks against my window.
Little curls of hair tuft form their former sleeves. Hairs like floweres drifting along in the breeze.
Shama lalt against the world. It’s not a land I want to be a part of.
Closing my eyes or engulfing, overwhelming hearness, anchoring me down into my everlasting dreams.
I’ve walked here before, I’ve kissed here before, I’ve wanted for nothing, I’ve wanted everything. Inexplicable journeys that can never be repeated. Each as complicated and simple as life can be.
I want your money in my house
Never ending thoughtless minds spewing from mouthless hearts, mindful of nothing, careless of something.
I drift in this empty pool of lost dreaming. Trying to float out into the clouds, where I might find that unbegotten fearlessness that I search for. A magnifying glass could reveal too much were it not for the shapeless ant hat coms crawling along holding a sing that vanishes into an illustrative puff and wisp of smoke.
Kneading a meadow of doughy marigolds. Forsaking a factory of woes form the idealistic life of childhood. Soft glows of lamplights viewed from the window of a child's eye.
Hairless treats on a moonlit bench. Harsh wooden textures splintered againt the limelight eye.
Wind billows up the fabric hanging over the line of suffering tears.
Drizzling down and a feeling of eruption bubbling over in her heart.
Wanting to drift out of her body, her mind to be free, to feel present and here.
Soft snowy footprints laying a path of icing sugar upon his legs. Hair bristling from twinkling eyes catching his own little pocket of diamonds.
A roll of hills growing fastly across the landscape. Green meadows of dewdropped grass, eating away at the lakes and rivers bending around the crossway.
Twisting tremors in a night lit sentence steaming out of my trembling mouth, I steam in my ears out of pure delight of a century that has passed by quicker than the foot of a ginger tree, walking along, the before entering like a slippery mat. A footfall into my mind. The dreaming of stars through my eyes. Pulsating cells, epileptic lights.
Twisting and fumbling under the ray light of a blue moon. He wonders through the glass eye heights of a dizzying circus top.
How still the sunlight makes me. His trembling lessens and he fumbles and tumbles through starlight shadows.
Whispers awaken his being. Lights out of reach yet a pulling sensation hinders his realisation awakening carnations, dripping glass like water.
Foaming lips on small lily pads that float along an ambient rive.r. Starlit, a galaxy of raindrops.
What am I doing in this place. Somewhere that is misplaced from my waking life. A misshapen place, misguided expectations, mistaken persons, wanting to fly on a wing of euphoria, to breath deeply and slowly as I feel myself heating up all to quickly, A hot fire moving, as more fuel is added to it. Reeling and reeling, words uncontrollably slipping off the tongue like custard. Yellow jelly.
Ice-cream, tubby tots.
Ab image of childhood destroyed by modernity. Magic unfeeling lights dotting around the shadows. Parting like butterflies to flowers that are not yet grown.
Uncovered wonder. A little box ready to be opened by curious minds.
Sitting quietly, patient to be revealed. They may never know what lays behind the mysterious veil of unknowing that she pulls over her mind.