Tape

Ring of God

Stuck all on me

pulling at my pieces

so desperately.

 

I had a good day

then a bad day, okay,

The worst day,

whatever.

Now I need more tape

to stick me back together

 

soon I will have tape instead of skin

instead of fingers,

instead of toes,

I will use string for my joints

my eyes, lips, and nose

 

I’ll have so many new movements

I could sit, stand or twirl,

i’ll be the shiny new toy

your Sellotape girl.

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I Grieve

All of today I couldn’t stop thinking about you. you’re always there, sitting in some distant corner of my mind but, today, you were front and centre.

I’d read about what happened to you in the newspaper. Your picture sat, out of focus, in the bottom corner of the 3rd page. A small headline crowned it, followed by a four-line article. “Body of local teen found drowned in river” my mum had it spread wide open on the table, carefully clipping coupons from the adjacent pages. I had just come down for breakfast still in my pyjamas.

I glanced over her shoulder scanning the article ‘Body found at the mouth of the Seven Sisters river confirmed to be that of 17-year-old Michael Olivier. He was discovered in the early hours of Tuesday morning by a young couple walking their dog. There is no further information at this time.’

“A terrible thing isn’t it? He was your age,” she spoke with the distant concern most people had upon hearing of a stranger’s death. I nodded, silent. Something sat stone heavy in the pit of my stomach and as I seated myself opposite my mother, nibbling half-heartedly at a slice of toast, it only seemed to tighten.

People talked about you that day at school. You didn’t go there. Your school was on the other side of town, but everyone knew someone, who knew someone that went there and something this big got talked about everywhere.

There was a lot of speculation. In English the teacher was called out to deal with a problem child and my classmates, few in number though they were, launched a massive debate over whether it was an accident or suicide. Most people thought suicide, they said that drugs were involved, a poor home life, the death of a family member. I could relate to that, my brother had died two years before.

The picture that they were posthumously painting of you wasn’t the prettiest.

When Andi the girl who sits next to me asked what I thought I just shrugged and said to her in my soft quiet way “there’s no way to know really,” although inside, I was hoping you had never been in the level of pain required to take your own life. Which left accident. Of course, there was the ever ubiquitous third scenario. But, that was seen as too much of a distant impossibility to even be considered.

You influenced a lot about that school day. Our weekly assembly was about coping with death, and how it’s important to talk to someone and not hold anything in. That was because of you, I don’t doubt the people in that room were indeed saddened by your death, though as I gazed at the sea of faces they looked about as grief stricken as my mother had that morning.

On the solitary walk home, my thoughts were occupied by you. I looked at the wood around me, which I walked through every day, and wondered if you had ever walked through here too. Maybe I’d seen you and never known it. Had you felt the sunshine on your skin, dappled through the deep green tree canopy. Did you even like the sunshine? Had you ever tripped over the exposed roots of the oak trees like I had? Maybe you stumbled home through here in the dark as a shortcut after a night out. Maybe that’s what you were doing the night before they found your body, grey and lifeless in the river.

I had to stop, the sensation in my stomach rose up in a crippling wave of nausea leaving me doubled over and fighting for breath. I slammed my hand into the rough bark of the tree I leant against. Desperate to feel something other than this. I managed to scrape off a layer of skin, small pin pricks of blood appeared on my palm.

I told my mum I tripped on a paving stone.

Another article appeared the next week. Front page this time. I saw the horror on my mother’s face first, the headline proudly announced ‘NEW DEVELOPMENTS IN TEEN DROWNING’ it was a large article, covering nearly the entire front page and I remember almost none of it. The two words that stuck for me were the ones I feared of reading for you.

There was a call for any information, witnesses and the like. I hoped for your sake, they got something.

I muttered I wasn’t feeling well and, retreating back to my bedroom, I drew my curtains and hid under the covers where I choked my cries down with a pillow and washed the running makeup from my face with the fur of my favourite stuffed animal.

Later that night after mustering up the courage to emerge from my cave I logged into Facebook only to be met by a barrage of posts about you. Other, more far-reaching newspapers had picked up the story. People had shared them and they came up in my recommended page. A memorial page had been set up for you, lots of people sharing their condolences and concern. Your older sister made a statement thanking everyone and asking for privacy she was the only person who actually knew you that did this. It was, on a certain level, touching. But I found myself getting increasingly sadder every time I logged on. It would eat me up until I was left sobbing on my bedroom floor.

You. A perfect stranger had gotten to me.

I couldn’t find anyone aside from your sister that knew you personally. No mother, no father, no girlfriend or boyfriend. A fist lodged itself in my throat when I realised, that you had never known that kind of love. I had never known it either, but my clock was still ticking, I had a lifetime to experience what you never could.

I wished for you, more than ever, to be alive. It confused me, why I felt like this. I couldn’t be grieving; you can’t grieve someone you’ve never known. But that’s what I was doing.

I waited for more information every day, desperate to know what had happened to you. If you’d suffered. Maybe you were at peace now. I didn’t believe in any God, or a heaven. But for you I wanted to. For you, I did.

They never found who did it. No more was ever known about you or what happened. You know, you’d be my brother’s age now.

I think about you and your sister. And while it is the nature of people to forget I still remember you. But this is the last day, I can’t do it anymore, after today I won’t remember you.

So I wanted to write this. I wanted to say goodbye.

I Miss It (Response)

I miss it too. Of course I do

Hours together in fading light

Then off adventuring

Into a warm distant night

 

We get shots at the ready

All in a line

Camera’s held steady

Taking snapshots in time

 

I miss your little made up tunes

And your cute dopey smile

I especially miss the way

That you could bring mine out

for a while.

 

It’s weird to think

how far apart we are

and the distance we travel from

even weirder that time flies by

when you’re here

yet ceases when you’re gone.

Someone Tried To Open My Door

There’s a reason the on-site accommodation at my university is called ‘The Street’. It’s a collection of about 30 three story houses all lined up along a pathway, much like a street in the real world but more secluded. It’s different to Halls, more personal, I’m only living with seven (well currently six, our new housemate has been due for a few days now) people instead of 107. We also have these cool electronic locks we have on the front doors, so only the people who live there can get in, plus locks on the bedroom doors. But, I almost never locked my door. We were pretty secluded at the end of the street and the only people who could get in I lived with, so there was never any reason to.

What I only recently found out though, was that our deadbolt has been broken for a few weeks and now the electronic lock doesn’t engage properly. When I found out I was annoyed that no one had told me, but otherwise unworried.

Tonight though…as I was getting ready for bed I got a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know why exactly but, tonight for whatever reason I had to lock my door. It seemed stupid but this deep, intense fear I was feeling did not go away until I’d twisted the deadbolt on my own door and heard it click into place.

Satisfied that I’d abated my unexplained fears I climbed into bed, trying to get to sleep, but I couldn’t tonight. I tossed and turned until almost midnight when, the familiar house shaking bang of the front door opening and closing indicated one of my more nocturnal housemates had come in. At this point I just accepted the fact I wasn’t going to sleep tonight, because I can hear everything from my room. I listened closely trying to see if I could figure out which housemate it was. I only heard a few footsteps so thought it was someone on my floor.

The door to room 1 opened. Instant red flag, room 1 was empty until our newest member moved in. For a moment I convinced myself that it was our new housemate. I stayed listening hoping I was right. No. the footsteps continued up the hall stopping outside room 2. My room.

I froze, holding my breath, so that whoever it was thought my room was also empty. The door handle rattled in the quiet of my room as I stare at where my door would be in the darkness. By this point I’m shaking I’m so scared. I tried to press myself further into the wall as a banging started on my door. Too quiet for the others to hear but for me it might as well have been thunder it was so loud, like they were putting their whole body weight behind their attempts to get my door open.

I told myself that if I stayed as quiet as possible they would leave. Then, after the longest minute of my short life it stopped, but I realise now I don’t hear the front door open. I found myself relaxing, convincing myself someone was just trying to pull a prank on me and, at the same time thankful as fuck that I decided to lock my door.

Then just a few moments ago, I hear creaking footsteps on the stairs and, the door to the room above me has just been opened.

Dear Lady

My lady,
Thou art disgraced.
Your future is in a gutter,
That was constructed in haste.

Your guardians promised protection,
But were swiftly led astray.
Dear lady, protect your neck,
For it lies exposed today.

I have loved you lady,
And the promise on which you stand,
Your torch which once shone brightly,
No longer reaches land.

Oh lady, my lady,
May my words find you well,
a ship for you to travel on,
as your nation goes to hell.

know you did not fail,
it is the people who want you gone.
you cannot expect to offer help,
to those who wish for none.

Sweet lady I still love you,
I promise it’s not an act,
The people will crawl on hands and knees,

Begging.

to take you back.
With open arms you shall welcome them,
It’s in your nature to forgive.
I hope today doesn’t kill you lady,
We desperately need you to live.

 

*Anyone want to guess who the lady is?

Wonder Kids

We are the exceptional,

The Apples of our mother’s eyes

Balloons that rise, rise above

Reaching for heights we ourselves cannot see.

 

We,

Dearly departed from the realm of sanity.

Giving the mundane a voice

Hearing music out of noise

We see through portals

To another world,

 

The real world, for most is

hard edges and straight lines.

For us it’s bursts and swirls.

We get lost in the real world.

 

 

We are the wonderful crazy,

The extravagant unknown

The souls that couldn’t survive

So far away from home.

 

Most of us don’t make it,

We are a glorious mistake,

Living with normality

Which was never ours to take.

 

But even though we do not see

in 1s and 0s,

We do not need rescuing.

We’re our own heroes.