Either tonight or tomorrow Im going start , really start.. Im finding it difficult because I know I will be judged by what I write, and trust me I have done enough in life to be judged on, so if you decide to keep an eye on what im writing, what its about. Just understand that Ive had a fair few of my what the fuck moments, so sorry if I offend or annoying anyone, just as is.
Trying to remember where to start and what to say is a difficult one, So as a warm up exercise before I really get started I am going to try remember a single memory and transfer it to written word, I have not been writing much over the last few years so please bear with me as I get back into the swing of things, I have tried many attempts which have all become half written manuals on how not to finish a project, This dear readers shall not meet the same ending, I am determined to at least finish one book, once. Im not saying it has to be good, or that it will be, but it will be mine, it will come from inside and it will tell me many things I dont know about myself, maybe even explain some of the why's as I think about it all, Im going to try be as honest and true to how and what different things happened, how I felt, why. Obviously memories are not crystal clear nor are they perfect. Then again do they really need to be? I hope not. ,
(practice/start/memory/)
The stars are barely visible as I look above, Sitting in the centre of Dublin with another lost soul who for three short weeks was my lover and companion, The most precies and easiest way I could describe this girl to you would be as cherubic in beauty,Blonde Hair that fell just ever so slightly above the shoulders, A very round face with full cheeks and lips, Her body was curvy like a pin up model from the 50's, A hairs breath smaller then me, She had eyes so beautiful and full of expression that they haunt me to this day, Sadly the expression they gave when her guard was down was once of pain and confusion at the life she had walked.
I was no older then 18 and she a year or two behind me. Her skin was like a honey silk milk if you will, I know it sounds cliché but to deny her an honest description of how honest and pure her beauty was would be a crime of degrading and vulgar nature. So here we sat together, watching the cars and the people move past with a never ending blur of movement. The large grey stone steps were cold against my legs as I pondered what was to become of our night. Slowly but surly the chemicals we had ingested a short hour before were starting to take hold. The movements of the cars and people became largely unnoticed and the sounds and lights became more pronounced, The feeling of attraction and love for my personal angel grew, As we held hands it was almost as if we were one. So we spoke and watched the world move around us, Time just melted away.
A oriental street performer started to set up for the evening across the street from us, She was dressed in original clothing from her country and had a little portable radio which played a slow moving sound of the east. As the lady started to dance, She opened two large red fans that had golden tipped edges. She moved with slow grace to the sound of her home land as gave two lost lovers a private dance that echoed perfection, It was a feast for the senses, The cold stone steps against my legs, The warmth of my cherub leaning against me, Her fingers moving slowly around the palm of my right hand. Radiating shivers of ecstasy to all the corners of my soul. We glanced for a mere second at each other and smiled, within that smile was everything that needed to be said, I knew , She knew. It was enough, So we returned to watching our dancer, Her music filling any doubt that was left and replacing it with a understanding that the here and now is all there really is. I moved the packet of cigarettes I had been searching my right pocket for towards my mouth and clenching one smoke out, I quickly replaced it into my pocket. In one fluid motion my partner in ecstasy had lit it in my mouth, I took one long drag. Passed it to her as was our custom. (Was going to try describe a kiss that happened but honestly just cant, wouldnt do it justice, so lets just end this memory by saying, That night was the first night I tasted what sadness a soul can have. While it being one of the most stand out beautiful moments I have ever experienced, Its power shatters the years like Im there right now, Its just too hard to explain why, think of butterflys but then take two worn out souls, ecstasy, perfect backdrop, hopefully one day I can,. Its a feeling worth sharing.)
------------------------------------------------
memory 2, same girl, different location,
Waking up on the fold out bed that was stretched out in the living room, Her golden hair tickling my face, I notice a stream of light breaking through the curtains,I can sense its still very early but how early I cant guess, I noticed that the covers have been kicked off and are nearly falling off the bottom corner of the bed, So as I slowly unwrap her arms and move gently off the bed, Dodging the living room chair and stepping as lightly as I could I moved towards her naked feet, As I lifted the covers to cover her I caught glimpse of the scars she hid so perfectly to everyone around her, Deep, Uncaring, Frightful. The newer ones were purple and still had defined ridges, The older ones were tight white lines, Her arms were the worst, but were not alone. The sight of seeing such soft skin, torn so deep and hateful, The light purple beside the soft undamaged skin was a hypocrisy I'll never forget. I've met girls before who had "self harmed", I had seen the scars, This was different, This was real, Never since have I seen such self cruelty. Most of the scars were made with broken glass, So they were not neat, anything but. I had seen them before, Sure I had kissed them before, but the light and context of seeing her asleep with such peace on her face, The light shining and making them more pronounced. It was like seeing them anew with fresh eyes, fresh worry.
She covered them during the day, She didnt show them off, If you didnt know you would of never guessed, What good cover a smile can make. Her features were younger then her years, I remember she had a fantastic gift with drawing, As if small pieces of herself were seeped through the pencil scratchings on paper. Thinking one night how she cried when she lost our favourite piece. She had been proud of it and someone had asked to see it, Well sure enough that persons seeing it became the last time we seen it. The tears she shed, I never questioned the passion that art can have ever since that day. By the time I was finishing my second cigarette she began to stir, With sleepy eyes and a smiling yawn she sits up. "Crazy night last night" She said, I smiled as an answer. She smiled back, As she slid back into the bed, I moved beside her, Effortlessly we fell back into the earlier embrace and just enjoyed laying there. As a felt her breathing slowly mimic mine or mine hers, I wanted so desperately take her pain away to catch and hold all her scars as mine. Thats what I think we did best, She gave me her pain and took mine. We twisted it around and gave it back as love and passion. There were many nights together, we had many adventures many moments. I remember sleeping in a train station in Bayside with her, So cold, It was howling and the rain was crashing down with vengeance. The only light a single candle we found, It was 3 in the morning, trains didnt start until 7am. So we had to wait, I took my jacket off and covered her with it as she crept as close against me as she could, My back freezing against the cold wall, too cold to sleep for me, but the feeling of satisfaction I had when I seen her drift off,. Priceless, Wouldn't change it for the world. Made me write this small piece about that night.
Dark shadows cast against the wall, Candle light flickering in the wind, Making the shadows dance to and fro, Soft whispers hiding in the breeze, Huddled and cuddled against the cold, Wrapped in a timeless embrace, No threat of the future, Just the now. One so cold for the others warmth, Time standing still while we wait.
Trying to remember where to start and what to say is a difficult one, So as a warm up exercise before I really get started I am going to try remember a single memory and transfer it to written word, I have not been writing much over the last few years so please bear with me as I get back into the swing of things, I have tried many attempts which have all become half written manuals on how not to finish a project, This dear readers shall not meet the same ending, I am determined to at least finish one book, once. Im not saying it has to be good, or that it will be, but it will be mine, it will come from inside and it will tell me many things I dont know about myself, maybe even explain some of the why's as I think about it all, Im going to try be as honest and true to how and what different things happened, how I felt, why. Obviously memories are not crystal clear nor are they perfect. Then again do they really need to be? I hope not. ,
(practice/start/memory/)
The stars are barely visible as I look above, Sitting in the centre of Dublin with another lost soul who for three short weeks was my lover and companion, The most precies and easiest way I could describe this girl to you would be as cherubic in beauty,Blonde Hair that fell just ever so slightly above the shoulders, A very round face with full cheeks and lips, Her body was curvy like a pin up model from the 50's, A hairs breath smaller then me, She had eyes so beautiful and full of expression that they haunt me to this day, Sadly the expression they gave when her guard was down was once of pain and confusion at the life she had walked.
I was no older then 18 and she a year or two behind me. Her skin was like a honey silk milk if you will, I know it sounds cliché but to deny her an honest description of how honest and pure her beauty was would be a crime of degrading and vulgar nature. So here we sat together, watching the cars and the people move past with a never ending blur of movement. The large grey stone steps were cold against my legs as I pondered what was to become of our night. Slowly but surly the chemicals we had ingested a short hour before were starting to take hold. The movements of the cars and people became largely unnoticed and the sounds and lights became more pronounced, The feeling of attraction and love for my personal angel grew, As we held hands it was almost as if we were one. So we spoke and watched the world move around us, Time just melted away.
A oriental street performer started to set up for the evening across the street from us, She was dressed in original clothing from her country and had a little portable radio which played a slow moving sound of the east. As the lady started to dance, She opened two large red fans that had golden tipped edges. She moved with slow grace to the sound of her home land as gave two lost lovers a private dance that echoed perfection, It was a feast for the senses, The cold stone steps against my legs, The warmth of my cherub leaning against me, Her fingers moving slowly around the palm of my right hand. Radiating shivers of ecstasy to all the corners of my soul. We glanced for a mere second at each other and smiled, within that smile was everything that needed to be said, I knew , She knew. It was enough, So we returned to watching our dancer, Her music filling any doubt that was left and replacing it with a understanding that the here and now is all there really is. I moved the packet of cigarettes I had been searching my right pocket for towards my mouth and clenching one smoke out, I quickly replaced it into my pocket. In one fluid motion my partner in ecstasy had lit it in my mouth, I took one long drag. Passed it to her as was our custom. (Was going to try describe a kiss that happened but honestly just cant, wouldnt do it justice, so lets just end this memory by saying, That night was the first night I tasted what sadness a soul can have. While it being one of the most stand out beautiful moments I have ever experienced, Its power shatters the years like Im there right now, Its just too hard to explain why, think of butterflys but then take two worn out souls, ecstasy, perfect backdrop, hopefully one day I can,. Its a feeling worth sharing.)
------------------------------------------------
memory 2, same girl, different location,
Waking up on the fold out bed that was stretched out in the living room, Her golden hair tickling my face, I notice a stream of light breaking through the curtains,I can sense its still very early but how early I cant guess, I noticed that the covers have been kicked off and are nearly falling off the bottom corner of the bed, So as I slowly unwrap her arms and move gently off the bed, Dodging the living room chair and stepping as lightly as I could I moved towards her naked feet, As I lifted the covers to cover her I caught glimpse of the scars she hid so perfectly to everyone around her, Deep, Uncaring, Frightful. The newer ones were purple and still had defined ridges, The older ones were tight white lines, Her arms were the worst, but were not alone. The sight of seeing such soft skin, torn so deep and hateful, The light purple beside the soft undamaged skin was a hypocrisy I'll never forget. I've met girls before who had "self harmed", I had seen the scars, This was different, This was real, Never since have I seen such self cruelty. Most of the scars were made with broken glass, So they were not neat, anything but. I had seen them before, Sure I had kissed them before, but the light and context of seeing her asleep with such peace on her face, The light shining and making them more pronounced. It was like seeing them anew with fresh eyes, fresh worry.
She covered them during the day, She didnt show them off, If you didnt know you would of never guessed, What good cover a smile can make. Her features were younger then her years, I remember she had a fantastic gift with drawing, As if small pieces of herself were seeped through the pencil scratchings on paper. Thinking one night how she cried when she lost our favourite piece. She had been proud of it and someone had asked to see it, Well sure enough that persons seeing it became the last time we seen it. The tears she shed, I never questioned the passion that art can have ever since that day. By the time I was finishing my second cigarette she began to stir, With sleepy eyes and a smiling yawn she sits up. "Crazy night last night" She said, I smiled as an answer. She smiled back, As she slid back into the bed, I moved beside her, Effortlessly we fell back into the earlier embrace and just enjoyed laying there. As a felt her breathing slowly mimic mine or mine hers, I wanted so desperately take her pain away to catch and hold all her scars as mine. Thats what I think we did best, She gave me her pain and took mine. We twisted it around and gave it back as love and passion. There were many nights together, we had many adventures many moments. I remember sleeping in a train station in Bayside with her, So cold, It was howling and the rain was crashing down with vengeance. The only light a single candle we found, It was 3 in the morning, trains didnt start until 7am. So we had to wait, I took my jacket off and covered her with it as she crept as close against me as she could, My back freezing against the cold wall, too cold to sleep for me, but the feeling of satisfaction I had when I seen her drift off,. Priceless, Wouldn't change it for the world. Made me write this small piece about that night.
Dark shadows cast against the wall, Candle light flickering in the wind, Making the shadows dance to and fro, Soft whispers hiding in the breeze, Huddled and cuddled against the cold, Wrapped in a timeless embrace, No threat of the future, Just the now. One so cold for the others warmth, Time standing still while we wait.
