Beware: Double Negative.

The exposition trails of your heart
lace your words with ribboned clues
of your next move. Though
you ask me to cushion the past with
a silky fabric, I cannot help but
ponder upon the possibilities. There
you go. There you go again. I wish
with all my zest that you will be a
halcyon boy. Kiss my memory,
not my reality. I am here, even
if it be for no other reason, besides:
I simply cannot not be...

Thank you.

So, this is my thank you:
To the boy who held a bottle out
and said 'This is for you';
Well, yes it was a dinky deed,
but your tenderness was true.
To the girl who sipped the cocoa
whilst devouring my spiel;
I can't articulate the peace
you're Juice does make me feel.
To the boy who tapped, so sweetly,
a simple pretzel anecdote;
On the surface it was silly but
there was more to what you wrote.
To the girl who's creativity
leaves me dazed in pretty awe;
You're trinket box of secrets
made me ponder so much more.
To the girl who blessed me dearly
with a package full of love;
You perfected the lush harmony
to all of the above.
So, thank you for anulling
my woes of yesterday;
I've tried with verse to tell you, but:
I love you more than words can say.

I really, really, really do.
Thank you.
Natalie Louise Slade.X

Smelly.

I apologise in advance for being somber, but I really need to say something.
I've never really used this as a journal, but I really need to right now.
This has been one of the rubbishyest-est weekends in ages.
(My non-standard grammar is intentional to shock you into comprehending the extremity of my emotion)
I'm dehydrated from the leaking and I'm exhausted from the fighting.
I feel sick and weak.
And the worst part is, I can't even remember what day it is tommorow.
It's terrifying to know that mundane is my escape.
I'm craving busyness, just to take my mind away.
So, maybe I want sympathy, but I don't know why. I need more than that.
I need some cucumbers for the puffiness.
If only I were a woodland creature; I'd be hibernating right now.

Or something like that...

You ask me what I see when I
look into those eyes,
but vision is not a form of articulacy.
The eyes, they cannot verbalise
the heartache that they glitter,
but I'll try this anyway. It may be
the only way? Here come the words.

Imagine there is a sunrise
in the distance;
you are looking,
you are melting in this dream.

It is flaming with a passion of which
you long to truly feel. It is
glowing with delicious promises that
ooze from the slither
separating the soil and sea.

You lose all silly memory of
the fading pennies in the jar, or
the little petrol in your car, or
the dreams to be a star. No,
your senses become numb as you gaze
into the light that
smolders, shines with splendor.

Your heart succumbs to peace, it will shimmy
in delight;
tangerine, coral, scarlet, apricot, amber, gold
glisten with pride, licking the edges of your world.

They proceed to rise, elegant
in pace. Your lashes flicker as
your body liquefies in hope, a virtue
your heart has desired so long. So,
you smile. But:

Realism begins to seep through
your nooks, through
your crannies.
You hear their hypothesis. You
drown in their theories. You
suffocate in whos and hows and whys.
Stabbed by science.

For the sun is just a star at
the centre of the system they call 'solar'.
Simply hydrogen and helium and
iron and neon and chemicals that's colour true
is white.

No tangerine or coral or
scarlet, apricot, amber, gold. That
is just the atmospheric scattering, you
oh-so-human being.

The magic, she is sprinkled
in a land called yesterday, but
tommorow she will resonate in your heart
for the moments, just
like today.

So, you are the professor, who
of course makes 'scientific sense', but I?
I am the writer, who is lost in
not what is real, but
what I can feel. Which
will always be more real,
to me. You see?


That is what I see, when
I look into those eyes. Or
something like that.

I can('t) see you?

I can see your glazing
like a sugared cake, shimmering
your life at stake, breaking
a little more than I can take.
I can see you crying
tears of pure gold, smiling
through the broken mould, shaking
in your bitter cold.
I can see you striving
to defy your spoof tradition, searching
for a hidden intuition, dreaming
of people who will listen.
I can see you praying
to a God you cannot feel, holding
onto time to heal, knowing
not, not if I am real.
I can see you wishing
on your second-rate science, fighting
the vice of soft compliance, kissing
a dangerous defiance.
I can see you declaring
the words I long to hear, edging
with every sigh you near, longing
to taste this tangy fear.
I can see you paralysed
you beckon me, smothering
all that you could be, yearning
to feel faintly, gently free.

O' I can see you, so
I must close my eyes.
Sorry; I can't see you.

Save me?

Guard your heart (Part 1)

Alba Darcy was one of those rare human beings, who was ruled entirely from within herself by her delicious desires. She emanated a luscious ambience that was perceived by the doubtful as a curious disillusion. Her soft romantic readiness made her every word glisten with a subtle hope and her eyes sparkled in a reassuring way. To hold her glance was a satisfying moment in which every second but the present was made irrelevant. Her laugh tumbled from her lips, each note like a mellifluous kiss that resonated in the air and echoed silently. Should she have the lust to, Alba could break a heart in a single beat but she longed for nothing less. She was a girl whose heart was strong in it's surrender but wistfully weak in it's self-defence. And this, if any, is the single most profoundly humble and dangerous virtue to possess. However, the fact that one can only discover this particular ethic in it's present state, made the deluge of Alba's spirit even more inevitable. It was simple. Alba would only discover the caliber of her paroxysm when she was seduced to release her heart. And it saddens me to apprise you that Alba Darcy released herself to a boy, a boy who, being only human, intertwined Alba's intent loyalty with his own scarred heart.
But, I am getting ahead of myself. For the progression, climax and aftermath of love are all equally consequential. So, I will start at the beginning. When the twinkle of innocence in Alba's eyes still burned bright, still smoldered with a passion, still flared with an intense despondency for tomorrow. That was yesterday.

To be continued...

I dreamed a dream.

Hello. So, last night I had one of those really deep sleeps. You know the ones? When you wake up in the morning and have to wait a minute or so before your brain remembers what day it is and who you are. Then you wonder whether the dreams you were lost in, just moments ago, actually happened. Yes? Well, I had one of those sleeps. And the dreams I had were like snapshots of lots of different films. But one of them is really standing out to me. And I can't stop thinking about it:
I was in the middle of a huge open field, all on my own, and a stampede of horses were charging towards me. They were running really fast and I had nowhere to run because there were so many of them. And I couldn't move my legs, they just wouldn't listen to me, so I was just standing, waiting for them. And then my legs started to run, but I wasn't controlling them. They started running towards the horses. Running at them. And I could hear my heart throbbing in my head. And I could feel it punching my chest. But I couldn't stop running. And it was really terrifying. Then just as they were about to trample on me, my dream would switch to something else. But it kept coming back to the horses. And the same thing kept happening. And I believe it was symbolic. And now I'm not entirely sure what to do in these next few days. My fickle emotions are wearing me out. I'm certainly not a pessimistic person, at least, I try not to be. But this is my outlet. It's like a moment when I don't have to breathe. I can just be calm and pretend this is the real world. And to think, I use to crave the real world...

I see you in the distance,
As you surge towards my heart.
And you're running and you're charging
Just for me.
I stare at you with feeble eyes,
As you race towards my body,
And you're rushing and you're stumbling
Just for me.
I shake, with fear inside,
As you endure to fragment me,
And you're dancing and you're galloping
Just for me.
I feel you nearing to me,
As I flutter longingly,
And you're ruthless and you're running
And you're gracious and you're cunning.
And you're righteous and you're lying
And you're laughing and you're crying.
Just for me.
And I'm tender with Love because you broke me.
Just for me?

3+3=6

The words are on my tongue,
And I can see them in your eyes,
The whispers and the sibilance
That spill such saintly lies.
My heart is in my hand,
With my arm outstretched to you,
And you’re staring and you’re waiting
To simply break it clean in two.
You’ve done this once before,
Then you did it one more time,
And I’ve watched you, analysed you
Dancing to your selfish rhyme.
So, when you see I see you,
You sprucely hush me with your kiss,
Ammunition you've kept hidden
Until such a time as this.
You leave me lost in limbo,
Lacing lies in loyalty,
You tangle me pulsating,
Promise: You will set me free.
But my heart, she cannot take this,
As she quivers in my hand,
She glitters pretty innocence
You'll never understand.
Those words I said were on my tongue,
They're seeping from the seams,
Escaping to my swelling lips,
To save me from your dreams.
So listen when I speak to you,
As this could be the last,
And if you've anything to say,
Well, you better think fast.
There are six words that epitomize
The fluster within me,
Two phrases that I wish to say,
Juxtaposed, two groups of three.

Lullaby.

La la la. La la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la, la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la.

Little girl, little girl,
Lose yourself in a rainbow,
All the colours, glowing bright,
Are all that you need tonight,
Kiss away all the pain,
Your heart will beat again,
Gently dance, simply smile,
Love yourself for a while.

Little girl, little girl,
Please just shut your eyes tightly,
Lose the sorrow in your heart,
So he tore your dreams apart,
But the Love, that you yearn,
Is just waiting it's turn,
To come soothe, sweetly save,
Little girl, please be brave.

La la la. La la la. La la la la la la la. La la la la, la la la. La la la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la. La la la. La la la. La la la la la la.

So, this is Love.

BANG.
She gasped and inhaled the bitter air. She blinked her eyes open, although she didn't know why. It was just a natural reflex to open her eyes, yet she knew she would see nothing. She was alone. She choked on the atmosphere surrounding her as it stabbed her lungs. She wished that her body would grant her peace by resisting the indelible urge to breathe. But just as her eyes had opened, her lungs contracted. Her oh-so-human body was still fighting for life. If only it knew. But it did not know. Well, you try telling a heart not to beat. It will never listen. It can speak to you, with ever beat, every pulse. Touch your wrist. Touch your thumb. Touch your neck. It's speaking to you. It's commanding you: Live. Live. Live. Sometimes more fiercely than other times. Sometimes it's shouting. Racing. Demanding. Sometimes it's whispering. Soothing. Dancing. But either way, you have to listen. And it will never listen to you. When you're alone, you cannot stop your heart. Not with your bare hands. When you're cold and naked and shaking and alone, you cannot stop it. Not really stop it. Not completely stop it. But still, she was trying. It is stronger than your mind. Stronger than your senses. Stronger than the courage you muster; you coward. And they were laughing at her, and she could hear them as the reluctant symphony of her respiration droned on. The music score of her heart: the simple 4/4 signature, only one bar long. But she could see the end of the bar, and the end of the bar did not end as those two vertical lines were followed by two taunting dots. And the symmetrical reflection lay at the beginning of the bar, sandwiching the notes of her heart. Repeat. And so she lay there, numb. And the drums played on in her head. And she closed her eyes. And she clenched her fists. And she pierced her skin. But the beat played on. And she realised:
This is Love.

The Puppeteer.

So, you're pulling at the strings that move my hands and feet,
You make my body dance and sing, pretending all is sweet.
You move my hands away, away, from what my heart desires,
And tell me that you simply care; You'll save me from the liars.
You tell me I should help myself by following my heart,
Then smother me with how and why my world will fall apart.
You softly paint a broken smile, to ease your guilty eyes,
And tell me that I'm beautiful so I believe your lies.
You dress me in your history, you think you're looking down,
But this is only in your mind, just like your regal crown.
Nobody questions your mistakes, well, you don't think they do,
But they aren't as blind as they may seem, they will decipher you.
Your eyes, they glisten secrets, as you cast away the blame,
So, it never has been you my dear? You fight to clear your name.
You eyeball me, you follow me and snigger at my life,
Whilst all the time convincing them there's no blood on your knife.
But the truth is that it's dripping, it's diffusing in your soul,
It's saturating all you are, the honesty you stole.
And if you cannot see this, if your eyes they cannot see,
Then open up your ears please, and just listen to me.