Point
Eventually, you reach that inevitable
Point where your whole life, as you know it,
Comes to a complete, incomprehensible
Stand still. All the tiny, insignificant incidents
That have led to that point, delicately entwine
Themselves within the most important,
Life changing moments of your life, and blossom
Into the very foundations, upon which you so
Desperately rely. It is at this point - this seemingly
Conclusive point - where you will embrace your
Greatest insecurities, your biggest fears and your most
Supreme uncertainties;
You will stare deep into their revolting, pessimistic eyes
And - taking a deep, therapeutic breath - embrace them;
For as horrifying and demoralising as they may be,
They are a part of who you are.
They will test you, they will beat you;
They will take you to the brink of no return,
As far as you ever thought humanly possible.
They will try to destroy your optimism,
Try to take everything which you ever held dear.
And, without any questionable doubt,
They will torture you, from the inside out, relentlessly.
But you mustn’t give in. For the only way you can learn
To get back up, is to have experienced the fall.
You can only learn to breathe again, once your
Breath has been taken from you;
And you will learn to breathe again.
THD.
(Added: 25/01/2011)
Point where your whole life, as you know it,
Comes to a complete, incomprehensible
Stand still. All the tiny, insignificant incidents
That have led to that point, delicately entwine
Themselves within the most important,
Life changing moments of your life, and blossom
Into the very foundations, upon which you so
Desperately rely. It is at this point - this seemingly
Conclusive point - where you will embrace your
Greatest insecurities, your biggest fears and your most
Supreme uncertainties;
You will stare deep into their revolting, pessimistic eyes
And - taking a deep, therapeutic breath - embrace them;
For as horrifying and demoralising as they may be,
They are a part of who you are.
They will test you, they will beat you;
They will take you to the brink of no return,
As far as you ever thought humanly possible.
They will try to destroy your optimism,
Try to take everything which you ever held dear.
And, without any questionable doubt,
They will torture you, from the inside out, relentlessly.
But you mustn’t give in. For the only way you can learn
To get back up, is to have experienced the fall.
You can only learn to breathe again, once your
Breath has been taken from you;
And you will learn to breathe again.
THD.
(Added: 25/01/2011)
A brief interlude from life, after the death of old routines.
Imagine, if you will, an arrow;
The kind which should provide,
To many, the most significant clarity.
Yet, this particular arrow -
As it floats… anonymously -
Glares back towards you,
Mimicking/Emphasising/Epitomizing
The complete confusion and,
Above all else, the utter
Disbelief of which you have become so familiar.
How is it that a conclusion is drawn
When the subject has not yet been reviewed?
The situation not yet developed.
The synopsis not yet accurate.
The summary not yet available.
It is the 4 walls of discontent
Which so elegantly gather around my
Absent, exasperated thoughts,
Jury-like; craving answers from the vast
Nothingness which has come to replace
The void left by fulfilment. Together,
We have pondered this far beyond recognition
And, more importantly, to no avail. In hind sight,
However, no-one finds their answers
During the interlude.
THD.
(Added: 25/01/2011)
The kind which should provide,
To many, the most significant clarity.
Yet, this particular arrow -
As it floats… anonymously -
Glares back towards you,
Mimicking/Emphasising/Epitomizing
The complete confusion and,
Above all else, the utter
Disbelief of which you have become so familiar.
How is it that a conclusion is drawn
When the subject has not yet been reviewed?
The situation not yet developed.
The synopsis not yet accurate.
The summary not yet available.
It is the 4 walls of discontent
Which so elegantly gather around my
Absent, exasperated thoughts,
Jury-like; craving answers from the vast
Nothingness which has come to replace
The void left by fulfilment. Together,
We have pondered this far beyond recognition
And, more importantly, to no avail. In hind sight,
However, no-one finds their answers
During the interlude.
THD.
(Added: 25/01/2011)
The Blurred Companion
The Blurred Companion
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to York.
Next stop is Darlington."
Mr. Dialtone and the gripping hands of Winter
pry me from my slumber, separating my
eyelids from their two hour marriage.
Blurred symmetry sits next to me,
Mimicking my lethargic veneer.
He looks more comfortable, somehow.
Perched on his chair of darkness,
oblivious to the refrain of L.E.D. cities,
he writes, left-handed of course, while
the world passes through him.
He gazes into the carriage,
eyeing up the contents of my table;
but Ray Bradbury doesn't seem to mind,
nor do IRN-BRU or Dairy Milk for that matter.
Meanwhile, illuminated letrocet
peeks out behind old buildings, as
neon pixilation pierces through the
midnight sky, to reveal segments of an
alternate, fluorescent reality. A thousand
suns hover between the dark labyrinth
of cold, December streets; their orange
breath lingering amongst the air, mysteriously.
There's a brief interlude of nothingness
as I am rudely interrupted by a jealous,
attention-seeking tunnel.
My blurred companion is clearer for a
moment; our eyes meet with shared frustration.
The kaleidoscope landscape erupts once again,
bombarding my pupils, as a sea of motley-esque
lava covers the dark, mundane canvas.
Multi-coloured diamonds lie scattered
across towns, like the shattered remains of
a broken rainbow, once frozen by Winter's icy
clutches. The trail of colourful debris lies quietly
on the thick, noir blanket of the world.
And yet, despite this unrivalled majesty,
he remains ignorant to his surroundings,
refusing to acknowledge the evening's beauty.
He sits, unfazed, with his eyes firmly fixed
upon the upholstery of my first-class habitat.
As he continues to put pen to paper, I can't help
but wonder: what could be more interesting?
Perhaps he's waiting for the steward? Perhaps he
needs help? Or maybe he'd just rather have 'free'
tea and biscuits? Yeah, that's probably it. 'Free' tea
and biscuits; I mean, who'd want to miss that?
THD.
(Added: 04/01/2011)
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to York.
Next stop is Darlington."
Mr. Dialtone and the gripping hands of Winter
pry me from my slumber, separating my
eyelids from their two hour marriage.
Blurred symmetry sits next to me,
Mimicking my lethargic veneer.
He looks more comfortable, somehow.
Perched on his chair of darkness,
oblivious to the refrain of L.E.D. cities,
he writes, left-handed of course, while
the world passes through him.
He gazes into the carriage,
eyeing up the contents of my table;
but Ray Bradbury doesn't seem to mind,
nor do IRN-BRU or Dairy Milk for that matter.
Meanwhile, illuminated letrocet
peeks out behind old buildings, as
neon pixilation pierces through the
midnight sky, to reveal segments of an
alternate, fluorescent reality. A thousand
suns hover between the dark labyrinth
of cold, December streets; their orange
breath lingering amongst the air, mysteriously.
There's a brief interlude of nothingness
as I am rudely interrupted by a jealous,
attention-seeking tunnel.
My blurred companion is clearer for a
moment; our eyes meet with shared frustration.
The kaleidoscope landscape erupts once again,
bombarding my pupils, as a sea of motley-esque
lava covers the dark, mundane canvas.
Multi-coloured diamonds lie scattered
across towns, like the shattered remains of
a broken rainbow, once frozen by Winter's icy
clutches. The trail of colourful debris lies quietly
on the thick, noir blanket of the world.
And yet, despite this unrivalled majesty,
he remains ignorant to his surroundings,
refusing to acknowledge the evening's beauty.
He sits, unfazed, with his eyes firmly fixed
upon the upholstery of my first-class habitat.
As he continues to put pen to paper, I can't help
but wonder: what could be more interesting?
Perhaps he's waiting for the steward? Perhaps he
needs help? Or maybe he'd just rather have 'free'
tea and biscuits? Yeah, that's probably it. 'Free' tea
and biscuits; I mean, who'd want to miss that?
THD.
(Added: 04/01/2011)