Lungs on Fire

Our Lungs Are On Fire

They poured kerosene down our throats
With our mouths pried open
Some died of paraffin poisoning
Some drowned
And for the rest of us
They dropped a lit match
Can you feel your tubes filling with smoke?
Can you feel your inner linings eroding?
Can you taste the charcoal on the back of your tongue?
Coughing up the thick ash – the burned black pieces of our organs?
Our lungs are on fire

And my eyes are burning,
But the tears keep coming
I wish they could do something
Melt the fires away

But the fires stay burning
Carbon Dioxide still churning
We rape our mother
One-by-One, after another
Relentless

And the fires are still burning
The dioxide is still earning
We berate our mother
Us on top, her under
Selfish

I wonder about the birds, circling the forest
Calling their young
Their babies that couldn’t yet fly
Waiting for her return
I wonder how long the bird soars
Until its wings give
She falls onto a low hanging branch
And cries with a raspy caw unusual to hers
She turns her head and sees a familiar stow engulfed in piercing orange
And paces towards a smoldered nest with her roasted children inside
Her lungs are on fire

The anxiety,
Yes it’s hard to breathe
Harder to breathe
When your lungs are on fire

If we aren’t scared,
We are blind
If we aren’t trying
We’re all dying
Our lungs are on fire

How do we sleep
With a fire in our bodies
How do we laugh
With cinders in our teeth
Our lungs are on fire

If they’re burning the land we live off,
The animals we feed from,
The trees we breathe from,
The earth we learn from,
Do you think they won’t burn us too?
Throw us into the fire
Control their empire
Do you think they haven’t already started?

Earth sprinkled with decimated maize crops
No protection from the sun come Summer 2090
The seas rise and makes us move
The temperatures rise, and globally deplete food
Carbon Dioxide – the waste product will leave us the same

And we’ll sail on the river of lava and walk barefoot on burning coal and pretend we haven’t turned Earth into Hell

Take It Slow

I get so tired

Soul ignites

Fingers get hot

Sound gets washed

Summer, time

Blonde divine

Chevrolet

Cruise this way

 

And

 

Take it slow,

Slow on me

You know you’ve got no moral line,

Swear you had it out for me,

Take it slow,

Slow on me

Carousel connives with time,

We have caught infinity,

So take it slow

 

And

 

Cool down

Cool right down

Hepehastus take the heat we share

Hammer on the anvil

 

Let me breathe

Taste my dreams

Light by step

Hydro wet

Gren,a,dine

Swift slip stream

Acura

Bashful star

 

Sugar lime,

Soaking thyme

Ease the rhyme, ease the rhyme

 

And

 

Take it slow,

Slow on me

You know you’ve got no moral line,

Swear you had it out for me,

Take it slow,

Slow on me

Carousel connives with time,

We have caught infinity,

So take it slow

 

Cool down

Cool right down

….

Electrolytes electrify,

By the Burmese ruby gline,

Delectable silver ring shine

Feel so young

Sweet and young

….

Summer came to testify,

Springs water and Autumns sky,

Fruited all the parched rhye

….

Take it slow

Painting Rain

You left, put between us miles
You left, took it all, left me bare
I’ve been painting rain, on bathroom tiles
Four walls and a bed, you’re gone and I’m here
Just me and my pen,
When you’re gone I’m not there
With nothing to feel
I just feel

You’re gone and I’m here
I’ll be painting rain
When you’re gone I’m not there
I’ll be painting rain
I’ll be painting rain

It’s time to leave this house
I need to get fucking out
Breathe in fresh air, poison it with despair
I am the fleshed damage you left behind
I am the vacant expression on the marble tile
I make them cry, I made you cry

You’re gone and I’m here
I’ll be painting rain
When you’re gone I’m not there
I’ll be painting rain
I’ll be painting rain

I’ve coloured every hall
In these blue raindrops
I’ve coloured all my walls
In these big raindrops
They’re painted on the floor
Where I write when I’m sore
They’re painted on the doors
Because my love is no more

Every night and day
I’ll be painting rain
Painting rain

Every night and day
I’ll be painting rain
Painting rain

Every night and day
I’ll be painting rain
Painting rain

Every night and day
I’ll be painting rain
Painting rain

Every night and day
I’ll be painting rain
Painting rain

 

(Painting: ‘Rain In The Field’ by Natalia Limanenko.)

Snowdrop Angel

“…I don’t want to kill myself.”

I stood on the edge of Snowdrop Cliff. Everything was here. My past, my future, my body of now, my lifeline. Everything that has happened to me has covered the mountains in a snowy carpet which never leaves.

So far away from everything, this angel’s place… But I bring with me in my bones, all of the people I have loved. I feel their broken promises wearing me down.

It’s so hard. Life. I feel so many wars bruise my back, battles I fought against the people I love. If my heart could bleed. Words that haunt. Betrayals that split me from my spirit. So much loss. I could hold it here in my hand, pick up the snow, and out would shine a memory of mine. I could glimmer in it’s brilliance, my eyes prisms to it’s witness. But what is it worth?

This land of time and recollection all rolls with my soul. And my soul is a lonely soul. There are no intertwines or links, only sad ghosts of people who came and missed. And I have missed, too.

Looking over Snow city, far away, far beneath. Fairy lights in gingerbread houses, nobody about, the whispering of the snow lost to the gaps in the mountains. Over the city, over the snow, Arctic Lake cut through in the purest blue you will ever see, it’s thin scraping line mine in writing.

How can you leave if you truly love? If you wake up every morning in wonder and in awe? You can’t.

I do not want to fall from this cliff. I do not want to taint the snow red. Thinking of not wanting to but doing it makes me cry a little. The tears scrape my skin on their descent, drawing lines of blood. The lumpy head of the tear, and the lumpy head of the blood, both glide down my face. One feels like a kitten slit, the other like a warm raindrop.

And the people here are made of paper. The colder it gets, the deeper their edges cut and I can’t help but love and fear them.

Let me go in peace. Why do I have to relish in this place, I can feel the frost stiffen my thoughts and means of motion. Why can’t letting go be so much easier than this. Snowdrop Cliff is made for two people, not one. It’s as sad as I am to see that I have come alone tonight with nothing but loss in my life. I came back tonight aged with so many years. Years I did not need nor desire but have been aged with anyways. What is it worth?

I found my heart, gave it away, smashed it up and threw it out. Talk to me now of being weak.

Write me a new lullaby.

I can’t let you go.

But I can let myself go.

And don’t you know, I’ve lost so much in life, that everytime I lose myself, I find myself anew. No more.

“I don’t want to die” I cried. So, I covered my eyes, and let fall

Back To You

I’m older now, but I’m still wrong

I’m bolder now, I’ve still lost

Let me cry into midnight blue

I’ll find a way back to you

 

Find a way back to you

 

 

Find way back to you

 

 

Back, to, you

 

 

Step by, step once step back

Allow it in before you let it go

For its final time pretend it will be okay,

That it wont be gone alone

 

 

Step by, step once step back

It’s sorry you can’t see it anymore

Its given in to whats to be done

Pain took its life and it took you too

 

 

Stand by, stand tall stand up

Allow me in before you let me go

For his final time pretend he will be okay,

That he wont be gone alone

 

 

Stand up, stand tall stand strong

He’s sorry you can’t see him anymore

He’s given in to what he’s become

Pain took his life and it took yours too

 

 

And I’m falling, deeper than I’ve been before

And I’m sinking, lower than I’ve been before

 

 

Step by, step once, Step back

Falling down, deeper than I’ve been before

Stand by, stand tall, stand up

Sinking down, deeper than I’ve been before

Step by

Back to you

Step once

Back to you

Step back

Back to you

Stand by

Back to you

Stand tall

Back to you

Stand up

Back to you

Step Back

Back to you

‘An Envelope Popped Through The Door’ Prompt

She hand-closed the door softly behind her, to keep it from falling to pieces. She let her strict ponytail loose. She took a well earned deep breath and her insides were treated with the taste of fresh-on-old mildew. “Home”, she whispered. She waltzed then through the dainty hallway, allowing her finger to trace along the many semi-circular hanging tears of wallpaper, like child-drawn waves. There remained only few doors in this framed rubble of a building, and none that separated the hallway from the kitchen. She descended from the pale beige glow of the hall into the skeleton light.

Everything in this home was devastated, but she kept it neat. Closed drawers, levelled and stacked books.. She was an organised woman, now that she had the freedom to be. What satisfied her about this place was her feeling of control. She would leave for weeks to come back and find everything as only a dustier form of its previous self. She felt powerful, finally safe in her own clay-stained hands. It was a rather new feeling of assurance, something she had not been familiar with most of her life. With no mother, she was hastily forced to be wed when she was still a girl.. to a man much stronger than her. And older, too.

But that was past her now. She gazed through the window above the sink, into an abyss of ash. For miles, there was nothing salvageable, and the rest was swept from an orange drift of wind, seemingly like a sandstorm, that hid the rest of the world. She was grateful for whichever bomb that had hit this place, leaving a piles of embers, and erratic poles dotted around. But she most loved that she could feel the mush of compressed ash as she walked.

On the sill. A dead spider. She gasped. It’s legs crooked in agony. She examined closer. It’s face was smushed, as if from weight. It reminded her of him, how he would kill everything in his house, break objects, leave things open and messy but never allow her to clean. Or to leave. She was to rot, as he trumped all over, just to see her squirm.

She cupped the spider, and dropped him into the sink and ran the tap. Brown water came and washed the spider down. Gone. Forever. She wiped the sill clean. Her brief moment of fear had been cleared. She was alone here, in control here, and safe here.

She began her ritual of cleaning. She had brought a purse full of Wypall wipes and a multitude of business-marketed cleaning sprays. She wiped the damaged counters of the kitchen, the frames with no doors, the old mahogany counter-piece in the hall, all along the bannister, up the stairs…

A noise. Right as she ascended the final step. As of a knock. On the door. Behind her. But there was nobody there. She could see through the frosted glass in the middle of the door. Nothing. She gave a plain smile. All but the sound of a footstep.

And so she carried on her cleaning upstairs, and she made everything in every room glean. Her last mission, was to batter the dust of the duvet in the only bedroom. And so she grabbed two corners of it, and slid it off the bed. And screamed.

On the bed. A stain. An ink stain. A lidless pen lay leaked. Permanent black. Her first thought was not to question its presence but to get rid of it. She went to rub at it with her wipe but the ink licked it. And stuck. She dropped it then, and backed away in horror. She had now realised. Someone had been here. Recently. They had stained the bed and killed a spider.

She ran. Down the stairs. Not safe anymore. But there. The frosted glass was no longer clear. 

A shadow. Something. With a top hat. Mad hair underneath. At the door.

“It’s not real…” Perhaps just a gathering of dark dust. It was quite probable. The wind could’ve placed it. She stood frozen on the second bottom stair for minutes, her heart rate slowly averaging as the something showed no form of life. It wasn’t real. She was not in danger, or in the presence of something else. She gave another plain smile. Just a trick of nature. She slumped down the last step.

An envelope popped through the door.

Hurricane

You promised you’d stay with me. Even after I’d approached the magician –

There was a man who was said to live in a house of raw unfurnished brick. He was rumoured to be a magician, with one of those eerie moustaches and a quick smirk that made your knees want to bend. He was also rumoured, but perhaps rumoured with a bit more circumstance, to be a pedophile. He was said to take the virginity of underage girls – though all was consented, and the girls who fell victim fell in love with him, so the police had trouble ever pinning the guy down. Given all the rumours about him, they couldn’t pluck one whisper up and say this is the truth anyway. The man was quite clever.

I went down to the man on a Spring day, my mouth flaming from the taste of Bourbon. You see, for some reason, the girls wanted to go to the man. It was like a shared unspoken wish for them. He was oddly attractive, and he had masterful hands.

One day my sister came home. She was fifteen, and liked to think she was older. I am the mishap of the family, and everyone else seems to have a level head, so I never worried about her visiting the man. She was small and brittle and pretty enough to fall in some high school love to keep her distracted until the age where she was wiser, or even to the age where the man would not touch her – they all had to be underage. All of them. But when my sister came home, she was shaky like a loose plank. It was just me and her in our little kitchen, and she sat down at the table, holding herself, and staring at the floor. Of course I knew. When she came to, which I waited for, she asked me for a drink. I was sixteen at the time, only a year older, but I was a drinker – as I said, I am the mishap. I took some of my fathers Jack Daniel’s and put a fair shot in the glass, and slapped it in front of her. With a rattling hand she drew it to her bottom lip and downed it, as tears flew like angels down her cheeks.

With a broken voice she asked my back; “What happens now?”

And I told her; “You’re older now. Now you have to fend for yourself.” And so I left the Jack Daniels out, for her to reach, and took the Bourbon and was on my way, as my little sister sat crumbling away her old skin.

The day was bright and it felt like Summer was peaking through the sky of Spring. I knocked on his door once. I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t a girl, but I knew he’d like me. The most popular delinquent, someone who was feared and respected, at his front door. He would know. And of course he knew. He knew who all the kids were in this town.

And he did take me in. And he held my hand as he lead me to the room. It was a tasty blue, the smell of soft baby powder scenting the light colour. The curtains were closed, the bed was made, and the decor was outstanding. Posters, drawers, a tiny marble clock with a loud tick.

I let this man inside my body, I let him do what it is he wanted, I let him feel in charge, and I let him smile as he did so. And then I took him captive.

I sq uee zed his jaw // tightly, I thr /ew him arou//nd the ro om. I ////smashed//// his head off th e drawers he so c aref ully clea//ned. I r/i/p/p/e/d the {curtains o f f their hook, I s mas./hed the window. I to/re the du-vet into sha-/-mbles, I k.icke,d the do,or o f f it’s hin/ges, I b//rok//e his no./.se and I b//rok//e his h-and..s. I to)(ok a piece of g.l/a.s/s and dr_ew his blood  //// from him and wr;o:te ‘RAPIST’ on his fore#head. I shaved his moustache. I cut his lip in half. Then I stopped.

I took a look at the devastation I had caused, as if a hurricane had left this place for rubble, and then I left.

And I told you. You promised you’d stay with me. And my friends celebrated me that night. They threw a huge party, and so many of the underage girls came and cried because that man had been destroyed, but so had a part of their life, and my friends assured me that I had done the right thing, and that night I had been crowned King of the town, and from that day on I was remembered as the boy who destroyed the magician, and me and my friends were respected even more, and we were called ‘The last of the hometown heroes.’ And we kept to that reputation. We fought every nightmare of our town. But we were so young. And the damage we inflicted took it’s toll on us. Such a burden to bear.

My friends and I decided we couldn’t keep it up anymore. We would devote our lives to our town, but our lives were dissipating, and so the younger folk, those who we inspired, would do our jobs. We had one last night, together.

I hated you. I needed to keep you away from me. We kept it all secret. We took LSD and hallucinated our day away.

I could see chemicals explode like fireworks on my skin. Me and my friends we all came together that night – in a romantic way – we connected in the only way we hadn’t connected yet. And I found myself heart-broken.

And I took it out on them. In the climax of it all I sank beneath them, and from under I raised  apocalyptic hell – I brought up our lives all together and i to/re it into tassels. My friends, my family, were r/i/p/p/e/d from the inside out. And then I stopped.

I took a look at the devastation I had caused, a personal devastation, my family, brothers and sisters, crying, screaming with hoarse voices. I shook their lives and everything they stood for and it lay in wreckage.

I had gone into that place, with the mindset that this was our last day as a family, and I had been correct. After the words I had spit, with such venom, all of our steel bonds melted from the acid, and we parted our ways. Our youth and all we did in the Summer and the Spring and the Autumn will never diminish, and in that way I suppose we will always be together.

And you found me. I don’t know how long you parked in that stiff spot, but as soon as I descended from the hooded room, you jumped from the car like you were the one on LSD and pulled me into you. You reminded me of your promise, and then you sheltered my face and put me in the passenger seat and drove off, away from the disdain. I could feel the gentle glow of harmony leak into tears of jagged discord all around me. My hands felt electric as lightning, my voice thunder.

You drove for hours. You needed to get me out of here. Madness was inescapable there. By midnight the rover ran out of gas and we stopped on some road-cliff in the dark. It’s a dangerous place to be stuck, right at a turn, with no lights to show you’re present.

You panicked. I waited in the car. You made a fool of the moon, and kicked the rocks, and I knew you were the last thing I needed to fix. You were the last ember of that town I needed to add substance to. So with a final breath, I went to the trunk of the car and took out the crow-bar you kept back there. Your arms were suddenly all over me, telling me to ‘snap out of it’ and not to let ‘it’ ‘overrule me’. But I knew what I was doing. I violently smashed your car windows, I stabbed at the tyres, as you screamed hysterically at me, begging me to stop. I got on top of the the car and let it r/i/p all over. When I was done, I dismounted from the car, and I went over to where you knelt defeated. And I took your face in my hand, and I softly kissed you.

“Hurricane.”

And then I walked off as it started to rain, wandered into a different town, and prepared myself for the connection I would have with it. And even though, my heart turned backwards and pulled against me like the tide, I wouldn’t stop.