Laying in state for far too long. I’ve had my eyes closed and my lips sealed with tincture. My voice.
For a long time, the temperature rose and fell too quickly, too violently. I discovered the blueprint post-destruction. Though, I admit I had seen glimmers of this a while ago and ignored it.
Graduation was a spiteful entry. Absorption. I became dehydrated and baked under the glaze of envy.
Fireworks ripped the restraints and broke up the mental chains of dystopia. For the first time in the history of our timeline, I chose myself.
Today, at this very moment, I sway my hands through clear blue water. I’m comforted by the sun.
My voice is heard, and honey truly heals.
To my cheese, my spicy cheese, thank you, forever and ever! I would never have woken up had you not found me.
The way your lips move when you speak has always fascinated me.
Let’s be real; no one is interested in you.
The way your fingers twitch when you tweet, and your voice wails out.
Let’s be real; no one cares about you.
The way you lie and you lie, and you gaslight and lie and reverse over a swan you ran over earlier. Then you fall asleep. Wake up and swear to your God that you’re innocent, and you hate how witnesses are reporting your crimes.
You cry out like a bitch to the feds about how your traits are on the line here, and you don’t think it’s fair that the news is printing eyewitness testimony.
After all, you know you’re innocent, right?
Let’s be accurate; you think what you think, and even the truth has no space in your life. So your head has you spinning, allegedly.
You make up shit and assume that the editor is spending time pouring gold on. She knows nothing about you, to write about you. However, past and present witnesses have the mic and the timeline of deceit, and most importantly, they can attest under oath that you regularly attack swans.
Crow chants out at 1800; your body bears witness to all your violent crimes.
Your lips move and echo your lies, with tears and pain on the hour. You snarl and snigger at your brilliant ways of manipulation. You play victim so well, yet you hold the knife perfectly, not even bothered about cross-contamination; you raise, and you stab. You stab, and you twist. You twist and assign blame, stating, ‘Your response made me do this.’
Then you hide your weapons, you cry wolf and explain to the authorities that you were attacked! Your character was defamed, and your traits were contaminated.
Crow now perches on my left shoulder, and he plucks a prawn from my portion of King Prawn egg fried rice with the soya-ginger sauce in a small dipping bowl.
We are silent in this space.
One of the surviving swans makes a statement that coincides with witness testimony.
You scream out, ‘I’m innocent’, as the detective finds evidence to prove you’re a liar.
Every time you have the time and space to improve, you do nothing.
I hint as I speak, I highlight with red rings of fire. Yet you sit back and act like a bitch.
Stomp your feet and throw yourself onto a bed of floral, fresh memory foam, and you peek before your soft landing.
You pluck out yet another appeasement and sprinkle it around me, hoping it remains as effective as the last dose.
You forget that all things have an expiry date, even plastic degrades, eventually.
I could draw a map daily, provide a flashlight and, of course, sustenance, and guide you myself, but you’d get lost again. I’d forever state how lucky you were to end up exactly where you started.
It’s a miracle.
Bless my soul for believing in you.
These days, I don’t even get my hiking boots on. I sit in a cosy chair, sip hot chocolate and catch up with EastEnders. There simply isn’t time to volunteer anymore.
You are there as a suppressant. I listen, I ingest, I digest.
My limbs aren’t getting me out of bed.
My eyes keep filling with tears and releasing streams down my face. My lips part, but my vocal cords are stiff.
My brain is screaming at me. Trapped beneath layers of your lies. Your deceit is fueled by my decline, nourished by my fear of growth. Yet you foolishly compare ‘accomplishments’ to credits you will never earn.
Crow shall not hide away.
Crow will not seal his beak.
Crow will never stand down.
Crow is forever.
Unique will not bend and serve.
Unique shall paint with every hue of blue.
Unique will speak through twisted coherence, and those who disobey will lose inexplicably.
Yes, I will console and consider. However, Crow will fly, and my voice will blend into everything.
I’m frozen with the memory that my writing was admonished for expressing my feelings. I’m cold with the thoughts that I thought you would never behave in this way.
Even knowing my trauma, you opened the curtains and re-enacted one of the worst things anyone has ever done in my life.
He saw I was down, injured by shards of misinterpretation. No! Misrepresentation! The information was ambiguous and clearly indicated a meeting.
I bled out, and he asked, ‘What are you up to?’
Then left me there for 24hrs.
Thankfully, I managed to get help. Miraculously, I survived the night. Regrettably, I sent a text. Notably, it went unanswered. Lazily, one word was sent in response. Secretly, I pondered over my next move.
I’m awake now. I reckon I’ll be okay. My new scars cover old scars, hiding my love for the unknown and perhaps the inconsiderate.
Tears are there, and a great escape is pending, but I push back. Well, step back. This is too much.
And just like that, sense has prevailed, and the fog has dispersed. You should’ve made it clear, my dear. You should’ve been truthful. 📵 ‘Fuck that liar! Fuck his friends and fuck his bitch.’ – Life Mantra
I walked into an unoccupied room and let the tears flow to a man I don’t have much respect for – a man who has treated me like shit and stepped out of his role into a cloud of ignorance.
I was crying due to a range of emotions festering in my mind. After all, who wants to listen to the negative aspects of your life? Like, I am going through a lot right now, and my head was about to explode. Surprisingly, it helped. Thank you.
Then followed the slurry of colleagues asking more than once, ‘are you okay?’
I had not slept in over 24 hours, and my body felt like shutting down. My eyes flickered shut on the cusp of five-minute intervals, and I struggled to complete my shift. I understand some people have good intentions; however, after I have answered you twice! Why would you ask another three times?
Sometimes, you should read the space and mind your business.
Wow! What a year it has been, the good, the bad, the dangerous? Cast aside to my think bin.
I set a few goals, a bit of this, and some of that; nothing has made me happier than writing. Though, after another 12 months of trying to play catch-up and not having the time to complete all I know I can. After 12 months of consideration, I have decided to take a break from blogging – it won’t be forever, just until June 2022.
I want to thank every one of you for supporting and inspiring my life. 2021 has been quite the challenge, and I officially recognise, I need to take a step back from this and focus intensely on my main goal. Of course, I will continue to read other blogs and show my love and support for my fellow Creative Writers – But for now, Crow and I shall fly through the skies in the hopes to return to you in two thousand and twenty-two.
What a time it has been so far; I’ve been restless with my thoughts and lacklustre with my writing—November of a month of planning and preparing but failing to execute everything.
I’ve listened to an array of audiobooks but did not complete the chain by reading paperbacks. Often I feel guilty about that, for I have a vast collection of creative pieces written by amazing people. Yet, I pass them by each day and note the new layer of dust each week.
At the end of November, I accepted that I had not written due to a mental blockage. Instead, I’m riddled with self-doubt and overcome with stress and fear of failing. It appears I have been struggling for months, and I need to break free to thrive and flourish.
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