Sing us a song, you're the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Fizzing softly on my lips

Sweetly tickling the roof of my mouth

Fireworks exploding on my tongue

If only your kisses still felt like that first sip of Sprite

Now they don't fizz anymore

Sickly sweet trickling down the back of my throat

Slightly weaker than it used to be

I think your kisses may have gone flat.

There's a hole in my chest.

When I breathe in, breathe in deep enough so that all the air in my chest makes me feel dizzy with the effort of filling my lungs, still there is an emptiness there.

I don’t know if it’s my heart or my soul.

Maybe it’s both.

Everything seems pointless.

For a while I though I just need a hug.

That I was tired.

Hungover.

Maybe I needed to eat.

It’ll be better tomorrow.

But now it is tomorrow.

There have been many tomorrows.

And still it's empty.

Sure, sometimes it'll feel better for a while.

Instead of a constant dull ache in my chest it'll only hurt when I think about it.

Other days it is all I can think about, a gaping wound, a monster devouring all my emotions.

Leaving nothing but a dark hole, an abyss of silent, decaying confusion.

Maybe it will eventually just all rot away, and there won’t even be a hole anymore.

Nothing. My chest will contract, seamlessly closing it over, and the place where I should feel won’t exist anymore.

Maybe I will learn not to miss it.

Pan to a stadium filled with heaving bodies.

Loud music is playing.

Random shots of people dancing, laughing drunkenly.

Freeze frame.

Fade out.

Pan to a stadium filled with skeletons. Loud music is playing.

Random shots of skeletons dancing, laughing drunkenly.

Freeze frame.

Fade out.

A room full of people in eveing wear. A work function or dinner.

Laughing, talking quietly. Soothing music plays.

Soft lighting.

Frame shudders.

Same setting.

People are now skeletons. Same clothing, actions etc.

Sunny day. A couple sit on a hill, happily eating lunch.

They are obviously in love.

Cut to woman, gazing adoringly at man.

Man gazes back, leans in to kiss woman.

Close up of man's face from womans persepective.

Frame shudders.

Man is suddenly a skeleton.

Scence continues as if nothing has changed.

Fade out as they lean in to kiss.

Young woman is standing in the sunlight, looking out a window. She is holding a baby, swaddled up in a soft rug.

She is watching a game of cricket being played on the lawn by some neighbourhood children.

Faint shouts and laughter drifts in from outside.

Zoom to woman looking down, smiling gently at sleeping baby.

Woman resumes looking out the window.

Shot of children outside.

Shot of woman stading in window, soft sunlight encasing mother and child.

Frame shudders.

Mother looking down at sleeping baby.

Baby is now a skelton, gurgling happily in its sleep.

Shot of mother from behind, softling singing to baby as she rocks it in her arms.

Reality is flawed.

Yesterday the trees looked greener, the grass smelt sweeter

Yesterday a babys gurgle made me smile. Today all I seem to hear is crying

Yesterday all everything was rosy and beautiful. Today it's as if the world has been shrouded in a cloak of misery

Yesterday the ocean was shining, spakling. Today it seethes and froths, murmurning watery threats

Yesterday I felt no pain, heard no lies.

Yesterday I loved you

He'd never meant to end up here.

Was it only last year that his dreams had seemed so defiant, so strong and unbreakable?

Yet here he sits, huddled in a deserted shop doorway, jumping at shadows.

A car roars past, headlights cutting through the darkness like a laser. A drunken whoop is left hanging in the still air as the car disappears again into the night.

He almost smiles, thinking back to the days when they too had been on top of the world, the days of fast cars and pretty girls and staying up all night just because they could.

Now he stays up all night so he will be alive for the next one.

I think that someday the daises will revolt.

They will have had enough of lying down and waiting to be made into chains, or knowing that their lives will be swiftly and brutally ended when they hear the muted roar of a lawnmower.

They will get tired of having brutish humans trample them every day, thoughtless to their struggling lives.

One sunny day they will collectively take up arms and uproot themselves, marching on a quest for their rights.

Some will be carrying toothpick spears, others hastily scribbled banners proclaiming Flowers Not Fists and Together We Will Uproot The World (Flowers are slightly limited in their vocabulary so had left the banner writing to the tree-stumps. Not a good idea)

And on they will march, for days and nights without faltering.

But eventually they will get tired, and have to rest.

And on the fifth day, or maybe the sixth if they are feeling especially energetic, they will slowly start to wither.

It won't take long - a few hours of sunshine and they will start going weak at the knees and the old and sick will slwoly die.

Eventually, all that will be left of them will be a few shrivelled stalks, maybe a stray petal, bruised and transparent.

And the last one to go will squint through the sunshine, looking to see how far they'd come.

And with a well of despair they will see the great green expanse of the garden they had so bravely escaped, only a few long and tiring metres away.

And so that, my dears, is why you never heard of the brave march of the dasies.

Nails for breakfast

She eats nails for breakfast

Two helpings of congealed hope for lunch

A small snack of despair late in the afternoon

Dinner is a main of slightly burnt longing, with a side dish of supressed sobs

A crystal glass half empty with misunderstanding

Finshed off with Souffle a la Chaos and maybe just a hint of heartbreak

Nothing to me

You can’t hear me

Inside I'm screaming

Crying out

My heart a glass room

You are looking in

I am nothing

You see right through me

With one look you shatter my heart

And walk away

I'm whispering your name

Broken

Shards of glittering glass lie in place of my heart

I'm bleeding

Tasting the salt of my tears

But you keep walking away

I'm calling to you

Asking you

Begging you

Pleading

Only you don’t hear me

Can’t hear me

Won't hear me

My heart will fix itself in time but it will never be whole

There will always be a part of me that’s in you

A tiny shard of glass that is still lying on that floor

Bleeding

And crying for you

Where that shard you’ve taken from me used to be there is cold hard steel

That steel is in my heart now

Next time you wont break me ‘cause you can only break a heart once

It can only be broken when its perfect

Fragile

New

But now it’s broken

That once innocent, trusting heart is gone and there is steel in its place

You cant hurt me any more

I don’t love you anymore

You are nothing to me

No one

I don’t know you

You are nothing to me

Nothing

Nothing

Nothing

I crave

Right now I crave:

Basshunter - Angel in the Night

Oranges

Perfect sunshine - just warm, not hot

Milk chocolate buttons

Foo and Joy

A massive squishy bed with like a million pillows and cushy duvets (that has nothing to do with Foo or Joy, I promise. Well, maybe a little to do with Joy . . . . JOKING HUN)

Sadly, the only thing I have right now to look foward to is washing my hair and eating breakfast at 2.30pm.

Lazy sod I am.

I am a lazy sod.

A lazy sod is me.

What is a lazy sod? Me.

LEAVING NOW CHOW CHOW

Parents

Today i was trying to do some budgeting, writing in a random note book I found lying on the desk.

I was flipping through it, when I came across something my mother had written a few months back, when she went to France on her own.

It was basically a diary, letters almost, to my dad.

Just saying how she wished he was there, and what she was doing and where she was going and how much fun they would have if he was there.

It made me so amazed, that after just over 27 years of marriage, they could still be so close - not just as lovers, but as friends.

To have someone like that in your life, to find someone who you are able to be with 14/7 and still love them and being with them - that amazes me.

I am so lucky, I think, that my parents are so strong in their relationship - so many of my friends have parents who are no longer together.

Parents are ultimately - no matter if they are the very worst kind of people - your role models from a young age.

Always it is subconsciously their approval you are looking for.

And for this strong, unbeatable, never-faltering force which is you parents to suddenly crumble, and you find out that they are only human too - that is truly growing up.

To find that your mother and father have weaknesses is to see that they are not always right, that you must now decide if you want to live with their beliefs or your own.

Because what if they are not right.

What if they are . . .

*dramatic music plays*

. . . wait for it . . .

*music reaches a crescendo*

. . . . wrong . . .

Overuse of the word Maybe

In reading a friends blog, I got to thinking.

It's scary to think of all the times during our day that we completely pass so many people by. Maybe that girl at the supermarket checkout will someday give birth to a murderer.

Maybe that small child playing in the sand will be the next Prime Minister.

Maybe that geeky looking guy dropping his books in the middle of the footpath will someday find the cure for cancer.

I can't believe I just stereotyped like that.

Honestly Shyla.

So what, geeky looking = find the cure for cancer?

How much books and movies have brainwashed us is incredible.

Maybe it's not always the class nerd who will go on to do great things.

Maybe that just makes us feel better for not being the most popular kid in class - but then hey, it worked for Peter Parker.

Today

Today I smiled at an old lady mailing letters by my bus stop.

Ate a packet of Oreos.

I wonder if everyone peels Oreos apart and eats the side without icing first, then eats the best bit (icing and half a biscuit) last? Or is that just me...

Realised that my right boob is actually bigger than my left.

Lovely.

Who doesn't want lopsided breasts.