Forest Cave

In the soul of the forest

Trees crowded in an ancient meeting

Wings beating against your ears

As the secrets I whisper in trust to you

Hang in the fogged air like

The scent of life and death on your skin

Give me your sorrow as I give mine

In this realm connected and out of place

I want to feel every piece

Every quiver like the deer

That is always waiting for something bad

To understand how it is you are here

A man that has walked beside the reaper

Since you were a child

Fear has warped into numbness

The acceptance of chaos

As healing as a fire

That rips through the forest

Enabling the growth of new things

It can never be as it was

Admit to yourself that nothing matters

Yet the sun matters to the canopy

As it reaches for its warmth

Reach for me

Dweller of darkness

Tell your story to the night

Rest your head on the moss

Let yourself pretend for a moment

You are nothing but flowers

Bursting from the ground

Pale and beautiful

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Point of S(t)ale

in a darkened building

she is behind a counter

there is a long line of shadows

waiting on her

filling the space with decaying breath

she feels around for a screen

or a till stashed full of money

nothing is switched on

she is helpless

but the shadows refuse to leave

with their yellowing nails

clutching this and that

a lot of time has past

the urgency makes her teeth grind

they only care for themselves

she lies on the floor in desperation

they can not see her there

she knows it is childish

she is tired of being gawked at

despite the feeling that she is in trouble

it is a relief

unusually soft too

a body grabs her

she sits up

sticks her hand out

on to her bedside table

the counter seems to vanish

with the realisation

that her partner is embracing her

from behind

in their double bed

far removed from registers

from customers

her heart beat slows

she is in her favourite place

although

it feels like the shadows linger

always wanting

always waiting

unrelenting servitude

in an unending cycle

Seeing Patterns

If you go looking for patterns you will find them

Not because they are there but because

You will them to be

A river over time will corrode into the earth

A sketch seen from space

With an expanding system

Determined by various factors we ignore and

Only see that the river’s fingers creep out

Like the neurons in our brains

Or the veins keeping us together

Surely these networks or links

By coincidence also look like

The roots and branches of a tree

Is it an earthly code

Or just the combination of

Gravity

Odds

Detail

Do not read too far in and forget

That words were created by humans

Which are made of atoms

The same as a word

Made of letters

Made of ink or pixels

Made of atoms

 

 

 

2016 Eleanor

Some might say I fell
The word is too quick for what really happened
It was as if a time lapse was taken
Over several months
And years
And I just forgot about the things
That were important to me at fifteen
Unintentional but
I’m trying find that place in my brain
That saw possibility
And power in words
Mostly the power it embedded in me

It’s alright
I’m resigned to what I am
Or at least finding that out every day

Crawl

Fingernails tunneled deep into mud
Scooping burrowing crescents
Earth smell compacted nose to brain
Lactic acid swelled in biceps
Embracing the earth
Like snake or worm
Leaking legs grew cold
Hands hastened by the drag
Of the hourglass losing sand
Disorientated memories flood
Of a lifetime far behind
Silenced by a shadow

Meditation

I tried to meditate, focusing on my breathing,
But my breathing started feeling forced and it became harder to breath.
Than I pictured a lotus flower opening and closing but it started to look like a carnivorous plant, like a cancer.
Then I felt the ground begin to roll beneath me like a ball. Sometimes I would go around with it, otherwise I would just feel it slide on my skin.

The ball took me to a town, showing me a war memorial and then it became my primary school. Teachers were playing tennis in the classrooms. My year one teacher gave me a bear that dissolved into my back.

I was unwillingly stretched to highschool. I was on a conveyor belt that slapped me in the face with briefcases. A cut bled too much like Alice’s tears that filled the whole room. I was drowning in my own blood. The floating was alright.

Then the slide clicked to University, and parties. My smile grew. A moving sun engulfed me and we became a small rotating solar system that burned brightly when closer.

Ultra Silence

Only ever through a window, have I killed.
I’ve marched through halls making machine gun splatter art.
Crunched skulls underneath thickset leather boots.
Seen the split seconds of horror warp a persons face.
I’ve gone on mad blood frenzies sparked by rage.
Only ever through the gauze of space, have I killed.
Others breach the void.
Make their choice.
Blood boil.
If the unconscious had physicality,
Then we’d all be guilty.
A thought is a spark.
An act is a bang.