'Writers are liars by nature, but just because of that, don't discount us. For it is through our lies that we tell the truth. Our stories become the mask.'

Monday 8 July 2013

The Era of the White Chalk...

 
There are white chalk lines drawn in the streets...
and a few nights ago I started to follow them,
They crept for yards...
through a maze of little lanes,
and night after night since...
in it I hear it call,
One hundred years I have spent in moments of dark flight...
through a night of a thousand colours and murks and ghost lights,
the cold is a blank face...
and curling sharp fingers about my wrists,
I am led on across bridges that crack...
that break and wear away with the salt-laden wind,
I whistle past car parks littered by debris...
cars settled into the quiet hours with dust on their windows,
If you hadn't heard...
my friend,
the world has already broken apart...
and what we see left in the dark hours,
is the remnants of an apocalypse...
As I ride,
I have become what I always dreamt of in the between....
to ride and chase the night beyond hours of sleep and forgetfulness,
and now the late time has taken me in...
I fly beneath a forest of light globes,
they flicker on...
they flicker off,
sometimes I wonder if it's my ride that makes them do that....
or me,
the night has begun to speak to me...
I hear it in the wind and the golden shine of wet asphalt,
it asks me questions...
slows down my heart and head,
to hear the between thoughts...
they are the ones that make you blink and see a door where none was,
or where you know what you know...
 

Sometimes there are things you know or experience as a child,
and we forget them so eagerly...
we banish our incredible knowledge,
because we did you see...
we did have ancient knowledge,
of a kind...
all of us,
but somewhere along the line...
we push it far from us,
to take instead our mantel of being taken seriously...
we let the world rot us,
and perhaps...
if we never did,
if we forgot our pride and took back what we knew then...
or never un-learnt to start with,
we would live forever...
with the hearts of children,
what a dream to dream...
and the biggest lie of all?
That impossibility exists...
The only impossibility is what your mind proclaims is impossible,
and what does it know?
It is merely a word...
an excuse for something that seems too enormous,
not a fact of solid evidence...
not concrete,
and we...
are called to be impossible,
If the world says don't do something...
do it,
is what they say...
I know where I am going and what I have to do,
I know my purpose in life...
Some do not know,
that you can have as many purposes as stars...
but fate chooses the order and alignment of those constellations,
we can only watch and spin...
 

and wait.
 
I used to dream...
we used to dream,
and there was something that birthed in those dreams...
a worldwide catastrophe unseen,
Dream Sickness...
have you heard of it?
It affects both in real life and the dream world...
a blueness of depth,
equal to the deepest sea...
a colouring of midnight blue,
that weighs you down...
weep,
for it is a sickness without form...
numbing mind and spirit,
until you are in a distant space...
orbiting far from home,
sick with the weight...
and unable to hear,
like reaching across seven million abysses...
to try and touch your skin and heart,
yet it is lost in fog...
we are lost in the mist that binds,
have you seen it...
have you felt it?
Ware' the blue shades that crawl into your dreams...
to make you ill,
for all I see now in my dreams is BLUE...
In all my dreams I look into a mirror,
 

Why'd you put it on?
 I don't know.
 Maybe he wanted you to.
 Why would he want me to put his hat on? 
 Maybe he wants you to...
 Maybe he wants me to what?
 To get confused.
 
Time to start getting confused...
 
It's the only way to live.
 
The only way to live alive...
 
 
and we dive into the depths,
and look at the surface but do not touch it...
look at the surface,
but do not ever touch it.
 
 
Sail with me down to the depths...
and there we can dwell,
amongst the coral and shells...
for a time and a bit.
 
 
 
 
 
Hey hey beautiful ones,
 
   Hope you're all doing well. It seems I learnt a bit about time on my last night in Airlie Beach. I had no way to make sure I woke up on time, so I decided to wait the night out. I may have told you this before, though I'm not sure...mainly the thing I was getting at was that waiting almost ten hours...it was like a holiday in itself.
    There is never enough time. Time is a raging monster that devours and tears apart things, and we are all caught up in it, tearing our own lives apart to try and wish it back, get more, and so on. For that night, time slowed for me...and embraced me with open arms.
   For the first time in my life...time and fate and I hung out for a bit...passing each second and hour until first light. I saw the different colours of each hour of the night, and the changing of all.
   I definitely recommend it at least once in your life, to wait out the night without aid...any aid. I had none but water and light to keep me awake...and the telly and books. Life becomes a more bittersweet things when you're in that space, when you have too much time rather than not enough time.
 
   Talk later Darlings,
     Miss CLScarlett xx
 
 
 
 

 
 

 

 
 
 
 

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