disjointedhearts

[disjointedhearts]

Radiate.

Don’t glow Because glowing is not to share, Radiating shows you care Enough to let someone else Feel the way you do.

[disjointedhearts]

Flowers on a roadside

Matched bones catching auburn leaves mixed with dulcet dew. Hands of veins support structures so feebly withheld.  Ashen earth, volcanic stones line the streets, for the walk home. Charred remains of sunken skin illuminated religious thoughts from, within.

A boy crosses his heart. Kisses the sky. Mutters a drunken slur.

                                                     Goodbye.

[disjointedhearts]

Autobiographic- Beginning

“Fixation or psychosis?

Devoted to neurosis now

Endless romantic stories

You never could control me”

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Three in the morning-

I was woken up by a police woman. She was shaking me not hard but with urgency to try and rouse me from the uneventful slumber I was encapsulated by.

 ‘Come on sweetie wake up’

She soon realised that stirring a child of seven from sleep was hardly going to be an easy task. I was confused as I’m sure you are as to why when I so young I was being woken from my sleep at an ungodly hour by of all people a police woman.

There was shouting from the hallway; this added to my confusion. It was a Saturday was mum drunk again? I recall siting up looking at the police woman and asking her where my parents were;

 ‘I need you to get up, you need to come with us to the station for a bit sweetie’

Clambering out of bed was always tricky, I had a bunk bed and being afraid of falling out of it never helped when I had to climb down its wooden steps. My room was tiny, a shoebox yet I managed to fill it with as many useless trinkets as possible hoarding anything with a remote meaning behind it, a coping mechanism that my parents fuelled through buying me these objects with little use. The light spilled from the hallway in to my room revealing the specks of blue in the carpet that contrasted with the sandy colour of the walls. I’d wanted a room like the sea, we lived in the middle of the country; due to this the sea was something I had rarely seen but the imagery of having the crashing waves beneath my bed had always fascinated me.

I struggled against the strength of the light that the woman had turned on, I was groggy and slow in my movements, sleep deprived and struggling to understand what was happening, it truly was an unfortunate combination.

The shouting was clearer now, as I walked in to the hallway I glimpsed another police person, a man this time. He was standing straight as if someone had attached a straight rod to his spine, he was still as my mother hurled obscenities at him demanding him out of her house.

Years later I thought about what would have happened if I had yelled, joined in with the screaming, demanded they left her alone and let me sleep. But I hadn’t I just stood there shocked by the chill that penetrated my body from the front door being left wide open.

‘Do you know where your dad is sweetie?’

‘No I, um don’t, what’s happening, why are you here?’

‘You need to come with us we’ll take you somewhere safe’

‘But that’s my mummy I’m safe here, please, what’s happening?’

I didn’t receive a reply as my dad stumbled through the door, his shirt torn, dark bags beneath his eyes and cut on his hand. I could see that the police man had now grabbed my mother forcefully and was putting her in handcuffs. Dad looked at me almost with anger in his eyes, as if the entire situation was somehow my fault.

‘Now you’re back sir we’ll take her away but we’ll also need to take a statement from you about the events that have transpired tonight’

[disjointedhearts]

I'm not sure

what i'm waiting for.

Sat, but bent over

slouched but not over

everything.

        Rumpled sheets

missed calls

the world on hold.

I'd wait for all

your silly quips.

      Don't deceive

do derive

from your memories

not like a better time.

      Flock to shores

broken boats

nothing hopeless,

just a joke.

      Drawn the cord

on life consumed

never living

in the gloom

[disjointedhearts]

I wrote something in my mind, It's a shame that seconds later It was no longer mine.

[disjointedhearts]

[disjointedhearts]

But, if I gave in to the sadness would you care?

Would anyone remember, would anyone be there.

If I gave in to my sadness would it matter at all?

Would you cry over the memories, would you be able to stand tall?

If I gave in to the sadness would it hurt someone?

Would you stutter and cry, in the end what's done is done.

[disjointedhearts]

Lust is a liar Truths not your friend, What does it matter We all die in the end.

[disjointedhearts]

[disjointedhearts]

There's a soft film behind my retina.

The scene is always different after I blink. Reliving the memories of a person or people, I don’t think happened.Its to clear, shiny with a haze around the edges. Not sharp, not clear enough to be mine.                                                                                      

They tend to centre around the things I needn't think of.                          

Those memories are the ones on loop. My continuous stream of consciousness in the form of memory. Imagery.

I flash back to sensations; touching something soft, mewing at a cat, reaching for an object, the smell of a person. Those make everything stronger. More intense.  Emotion memory like something from a piece of art, analysis. But its not art. I'm not allowed that detachment.

These are mine. There hurt. I wish them away but the scene doesn't flicker, doesn't waver. These are mine. These hurt.

[disjointedhearts]

I asked if I could hold your hand, You stuttered in response; Made a gentle grasp for it In seconds it felt wrong.

I asked if I could comb your hair You said ‘if you desire.’ I noticed how it gleamed; Charcoal coloured, ashes of a fire.

You took little time to laugh, When you did, it reached not your eyes. Days later you thought again, Now it’s me that you despise.

[disjointedhearts]

Insomnia

Mutterings, mutted.

Walk now, speak then,

think like you're lost

hunt like you've got nothing else.

Haunt these walls, these rooms.

Why not?

Why care.

Sleep evades you, you slip again.

Beds unattractive, heat and flesh,

cold and careless;

rather stummble around.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Never coming, illusion of a mystery

the illusion of sleep itself.

[disjointedhearts]

Those pictures I see, they look like places I've been; with someone I used to love. Yet love, if love is infinite, then does it just fade? Waiting in the darkest corners, releasing itself when you need it least. What if love is not what you need, It is only all you want. That’s what caused your downfall. What then?

[disjointedhearts]

What if loves abusive

what if loves untamed,

what if loves uncomfortable 

what if love is pained?

[disjointedhearts]

What if the heavens didn’t care and there were no thoughts left here for us dear?

What if we were riddled souls, riddled with despair; what then, would the if’s, but’s, yet’s and maybe’s matter?

Would we be succinct in our knowledge of what was important to us?        

Shall we re-live the past for pleasure, or re-live it for regret we know not what is to come and it terrifies many. So maybe standing there, scattered thoughts of past and present bringing about our demise, bringing about our downfall to break us.

What if they don’t shake us, shake our hopes, shake our thoughts?                    

I forgave them. I wished to forget, better yet detach and what if we did, stared right through as this indifferent world would expect of us?

It should but make sense else we’d be fools, slaves to restricted thoughts and disapproving mind sets of things we shan’t revisit or re comply to. Our own pity withers as we fall at their feet in what hope of another’s approval.

Perhaps that’s what we sought; yet I know that is but a lie, a half truth told to keep the wicked at bay and the innocent out of dismay. We are a rattled people, a confused, demolished dis-human mob that need not tame it’s disclosure of information for there be little point in such triviality.

[disjointedhearts]

I stirred up your scent without a thought, the memories it brought me never aught; to reach within the  recesses of my mind as I wished for them to be left behind.

[disjointedhearts]

Sleep in your fearless ways, memories of you   yet a passing haze.

I thought you loved me yet now know for sure, she waits for you behind a closed door. (?)

Whisper me those tales  of woe, where we thought all the things we hated would go.