Calling on Summer

Partner in Crime

She wants to run wild. Flowers in her hair, skulls drawn across her arm, tiny shorts, giant jackets. Sun beaming, rain pounding; electric. Life souring through her veins with an energy only grasped once before; during childhood.

But is she alone in this wanting? Is she alone in her dreaming.

She wants a partner in crime. A partner to hold hands with as they leap off cliffs and into ice cold waters. A partner who loves her spontaneity, her insanity and her sane-ity.

Because it is surely impossible to find a number of people who will run headfirst down a highway with their eyes closed. But just one other? Now there must be at least a snowflakes chance in hell for that to happen, she hopes. And having never been a big believer in hell after death but instead hell disguised as this life then yes, that is a huge chance seeing as plenty of snowflakes fall and survive to enjoy happy icey lives here on earth.

Fragile

And then she realised that she longed for the solitude of darkness and the little things that shine through and amidst it all.

Fireworks, the stars, the moon and the ocean are what held it all together… what held her together. Her life-source was music and love, a combination of the two, each responsible for its own beat of her heart. That’s why each time a little hope was lost for either love or music; her entire body would tremble and an audible and physical pain would strike upon her heart.

How can something so fragile survive in a world like this?

And what then would happen if both music and love were stolen from underneath her feet? She had experienced the quick swish of love escaping her life before and it had almost killed her; her very soul screamed out in agony. But surely if she were to lose both love and music; both beats which make up her heart; she would cease to exist.

Is that all it takes?

She had managed to grab love with the tips of her fingers once more and the pain had become much shallower, but its echo still scrambled around her mind.

If she lost both.. even the tips of her fingers may not reach, but instead curl inwards with little to no strength left; her life-source running on empty.

You May Not Want To Stop

So tell me. Where’ve you been? Seems like i’ve been singing hollow songs forever, they bounce back and forth inside the emptiness.

Tiny traveller how far have you gone? Does each mile make you stronger? Or weigh you down that little bit more. 

Alone? I don’t  mind it. 

Pain? Its a constant, but it fades. 

Happy? Why yes i hope so. 

Multiple equations, dotted around the stars.. I never really enjoyed maths, too repetitive. And when i couldn’t figure out the answers, i’d just take a peek at them in the back of the textbook. But life’s not like that is it? 

Well, not anymore. 

Answers, answers, answers. Who decides which ones are right? The textbooks were proven to be wrong on occasion, so what hope do we have then? Marking ourselves from faulty textbooks only proves ignorance is bliss.. 

Vero o falso??

Fuck fuck fuck. Multiple readings, equally correct, or are we just persistently blaming it on ambivalence?

Sorry, i got side-tracked. I do that a lot these days, for various reasons.

London, Brighton, Amsterdam, Hilversum, Hamburg, Berlin, Venice, Florence, Siena, Rome, Agerola, Sorrento, Barcelona, Malaga, Granada, Madrid, Auriol, Paris, Bruges..

Lost and found, scattered, broken, hidden, blatantly pronounced.. travelling works both ways. You lose something only to find a new something. 

Get lost, walk in the dark.. how else will you appreciate the light? Only don’t go walking for too long.. 

Why?

Because you may not want to stop.

Thats the Dreamer

Escape, run, disappear.. find a place that is beautiful, a warm place, a place untouched by the real world.

Talk to them, ask them what they think this life is about. They’ll give you their views, but only some  because some of them they don’t like to admit to people. Some of them they don’t like to admit to themselves..

Watch them in their ways, you may never understand. They themselves don’t understand, thats the issue. 

Forever dreaming, forever lost, forever dreaming of getting lost in order to find what they’re looking for. 

Thats the dreamer.

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