Tag Archives: scream

the scream

i shout.
the pitch
above human hearing:
sharp piercing sound – a blade –
slitting time
and life
and space
inside me.

lips come together,
in a brusque motion.
the slurmp of collision
runs through the body
and the rest is silence.

beneath the bones,
the scream solidifies
in the darkness of the soul.


62. straight into the recovery postion

blackout before my eyes.
blood, scalpel, heart, darkness. and then my mother’s voice, soothing, recieving, full of love.

i fell softly, straight into the recovery postion, noiselessly, languidly, water flowing downhill, gurlging softly at the impact with the rocks. as if i’m used to this. as if. 

and there was drama, panic, shock, laughter even, lab oozing with emotion like a devil sick of sin.
noone would have ever guessed that i would faint: i was strong. a rock. a pillar. nobody’s princess. 

but there it was. pig’s heart. or lamb’s. whichever. i cut it open, hands almost firm, quite agile. who knew how i was trembling deep inside? i didn’t scream or flinch, i looked at it from inside out, i smiled and laughed and feigned disgust. i know how to put on an act. 

tension released, i fell like a birch leaf in the autumn gust.
standing there passive, watching older, firmer hands cut right through a heart, talking of it, the ventricles, the muscles, the–
that was too much.

no use for me as such.

and yet–
are you surprised i crumbled or rather that i didn’t crumble straightaway?
whichever one, that’s quite okay.

i came around.
before you know it, i’ll pick the scalpel up again.

47. claiming the world

what does it feel like to claim and not be claimed?
i used to know.
i remember knowing, living for the memories. and recollections come and go, but it’s been close to never since that was me, claiming the world without giving anything back. and the gold thread of freedom trailed behind me, uscathed, untouched.
now, that thread, ulcerous tail, no longer golden, only appears when there’s a total eclipse of the heart.
it’s my firestarter, the shot signalling a race, a way of loving myself more by loving you less. 

and it’s nothing more than a joke – a special effect amidst an action movie; an actress screaming as ketchup flows from her imaginary wounds.
for you have become my all, mi vida, mi corazon.
you have claimed me, like france claims you again.

tonight, tomorrow, for days on end, you leave me here alone. no X, no Y, no admirers, no other loves. i cut those golden threads leaving only one.
my tarnished freedom. my back-up plan.

and i leave myslef vulnerable to you. to claim.

and maybe all i ever wanted was to be claimed, my rebellions just a show so that when the curtain call was done and i was in my dressing room, all alone, taking the make-up off my face, someone, anyone, would walk in and force me to my knees, making me love them without loving me back. 
and then, i would know what it was like to love a spy in the house of love. 
then, whatever i thought of them would be what the world thought of me and i would feel whatever the world felt after i claimed it.

and none of it would matter, because the world would still be mine.

31. my secrets in the buttons of your shirt

i know i went cold on you today, my bared torso immobile. i couldn’t pretend that i could stand being so vulnerable, like soft white putty in your hands.

i wanted to scream until my lungs ruptured because seeing the tables turning made me dizzy with fear.
a fear of conclusion.
and it’s irrational, being so scared that you will depart, leaving only a purplish shadow of your foreign kisses lingering on my neck. 
it’s stupid even, because you waited a lifetime for this, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all day, reassurances of your being mine, promises rising up from the heat of want, passion, longing, colouring the humid air scarlet.

but sometimes, when you close the door as you leave, it seems we are parting forever, my secrets in the buttons of your shirt, my scent lodged in the tips of your hair, my love clinging to your need like a phython going in for the kill.

so, forgive me my weakness, my inability to be promiscuous, my pain at forgetting how i was and my lack of hope for the future.
and i know if i was to say this to you, you’d shush me, so maybe you do love me after all.

and maybe one day i’ll need to know the truth about how you feel, but for now it’s enough to just hear you saying those three words.

it’s enough.

25. a little more single

valentine’s day tomorrow.
everyone knows that. most people care. some, like me, are a little more weary of its coming. a little more reserved. a little more single.

walking the streets today was like waking up in a foreign room. every pattern established over the duration of the year (bar Christmas time) had changed. for today only. all the world needed today was a banner screaming for one night only like those one off concerts by a renowned superstar.
illustrious illusion of love taking the world by storm:
the vendors on the streets shouting roses, not their usual bananas or tomatoes;
the music blasting from the shops a mixed array of romantic songs, every single one played to death;
and hearts, chocolates, champagne everywhere.

call me a cynic, but i just can’t stand it all. a dog should be for life not just for Christmas, so love should be for every day, not just the internationally-recognised day of coupling.

i say that but i still don’t know what real love is and noone’s in a hurry to show me.
you went off to Devon. i have to you said and i don’t doubt that you do. you ought to see your gran and if it so happens you visit overlaps with the day we should have spent together, that’s fine by me. no, honestly, it is.
it reminds me of the fact i’m free again. amen.
as to X, oh to hell with X. hot, cold, freezing, boling and then cold again. who knows that boy?
something tells me i never did.

and never will.

the death within the life of us…

wish we’d have cordoned it off,

like an act of protest,
the wind beating at the cordons,
trying to break down the strips of pinstriped yellow
their fluorescence screaming out
for the whole world to see


i long we’d start again
so we could have barricaded it off,
wooded board on wooden board,
vow on vow on vow,
trapping death and trapping love 

so that A&E men in their white coats
would not get past us to resuscitate it 

so that our love could go on being
the death within the life of us.

15. you live and learn, right?

some days are just rubbish.
no way of getting round it. no way of changing that fact.
today was one of those days.

when you wake up in the morning, what do you think? do you think of the days having gone past or do you look to the future? do you make a wish? just a little one, maybe. like, i wish my train runs on time today or i wish this cold doesn’t get any worse.
i did all of that this morning and still, still i couldn’t prevent the day being a failure. like a snowflake melting halfway down on its journey from the sky ot the ground.
no amount of good-luck actions would have changed that, i think.
it’s all written in the stars, no? 

it was W this time. he’s so important that i’ve never even mentioned him before now, but hey, you live and learn, right?
he went and told the superiors that i was bullying him. last time i checked, caring about what one has to say, always asking one if he’s alright (genuinely concerned, because he did seem depressed lately), making jokey, playful remarks is NOT bullying.

but hey, you live and learn, right?

that hurt me.
i don’t know what to say. he was my friend and he turned against me, making accusations our mutual friends were shocked to hear. that i, yself, was shocked to hear. 
but why would he make up something like that?
oh, this is a good one. listen to this, right – the superior was telling him off, so he figured… shift the blame on someone else. tell them he was having a tough time of it all and i was making it worse.
i wish he’d tell me how being friendly is making it worse.

but his excuse for saying that to the superior is the best. it’s not really much of an excuse at all: he didn’t think she’d tell me.
i guess he just didn’t think.

but he was right:
she didn’t tell me. she screamed right at me how unacceptable bullying was, how i should be ashamed, how i’m a disappointment.
the list goes on. 

and is that something a friend would do? i don’t think so, somehow.

i cried today. more than once. i couldn’t believe it. 
call me naive, but i thought that W was my friend. i liked him a lot. he was my train buddy.

how stupid of me.