The windows are down and now we can breath again...

Getting ready for a sleep now....

Maybe we can find a corner in the pub and look like a couple of passed out drunks

or we could take our pillows to the park, making sure the cold side is facing up....

Hiding our faces away from the morning light.... as it demands of us, what we are not willing to give...

I'm watching the windows of strangers houses, in a non voyeuristic way.... interested to see in on how others stay up and make life work.

And how others face the day, and then we with our toast making, and silent morning nods bringing about a ritual, that is just..us.

We've left our home, and now our town, and now we're moving forward into the unknown...the trees throw red tints of sunlight, flickering through closed eyes...

The warmth on our faces as we drive up the coast, the windows are down...and we can smell the salt...we could very well jump out and into the sea.. that is right by our side the whole way, like an old friend promising not to give up on us.

Midnight on the blinding platform of subconscious....

Midnight.
Metro platform.
Bright lights.

Telling me of the film "You & I".
Giving me the rundown in detail.
The soundtrack... with Mt Eerie, was the highlight for you.

Our hands gripped tightly the whole time.

Each train went past with a flash of blinding light.

The trains never slowed, not enough time for the passengers in the speeding carriages to see our silhouettes.

You talked and talked... more than I'd ever think you would.

And then silence.

It was stark against the emptiness of the place... bar one person, who
had been listening in on our conversation, for what reason I don't know (saved him from a pre thought out death)... Perhaps it was to get a glimpse into the lives of people living in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I kept on falling in and out of consciousness.... wanting to go back there... keep living that scene, to see where it took us....

An Escape.

Escapism is a lonely tree, one in which you can climb and sit for hours on end, and no one will ever find you. Unless you want them to.

A Faint, Yet Enabling Heart.

A hurt heart on it's behalf,

I’ll hold onto it, beating in my hand… erratic, jumpy, and it’s changing time.

There is no control, and there is no remedy… we just have to wait…

We can’t always be all brave-face-friendly, we are not always walking on a dream.

We start choking on the words that are trying to come from our mouths, and then they sound like words no longer.. they form animalistic, from deep inside, we cry.

The blanket we tried wrapping around it came loose, and now it's cold….heart frozen, I can still hear it beat, but faint. We are scared.

If only we could build a cave, line it with a warm embrace, and sleep through all of this…

We’d wake on the other side, and the worst will have past…

...but instead we are hunting, for a safe place to hide, with ashes in our eyes...until the volcano stops it's bellowing...

A place where new waves come in....

Listen to: JJ - Let Go

Lost in Translation

We started off so peaceable, and perfect we were...
And then the mist rose, and we were carried with it for a time...

And then with slow but sure steps, we ended up on each others toes...
Lost ourselves in the translation of different lives....
Hitting the drum, and losing our rhythm...

How badly we want, and how awful we are.
With scratching fingers on each others backs... and screams....

Struggling for breath, amidst the hands covering each others faces..
Fighting for the others attention, a never ending war...

And as we lay there all broken, bloodied and bruised...
We nurse each others battle wounds...

And then we are gone.

Quarter past 11...

To hug them goodbye, and I lost a part of myself somewhere between the car door, and the street sign saying "Slow".

To the floor! I'll fall, to the floor... and leave myself there for a few hours, hoping the weather stays just as sour, wondering whether my feelings will let up, and whether or not to just give in and give up, all together...

Old Russian music plays in the background, a theme, for a day of contemplation, of frustration... a realisation of something more, than what I found whilst lying there on the floor, besides the bunnies of dust, and the nails of rust, protruding from the wood, to stab and reject, weapon in disguise, my demise, has changed.

Someone lies down beside me, their silence is pulling me out of my selfish spite and I turn and look into the face, and say "I'm not a believer"... and they say "neither am I".. "so what now?".. "let's sneak out the window and pretend we're spies"...

We jump out the window and watch for black cars, hearse-like, cop-like, anything with bars... we're on the run, and it's quarter past 11.... I'm hoping we'll still be alive and awake at quarter past 7.

I whisper to that someone: "We've got hours to make a scene...so kid, let's keep this one clean". We're in this together, hands tied tightly way down low behind our backs....and with that I forget about the car door, the floor and the street sign saying "slow"...

I forget about the street sign saying slow...