I suppose the Raven left his roost for a while huh. Not that anyone reads this. But that said, can’t really use this as an emotional dumping ground, since it’s technically a compromised digital “location” to begin with.

It’s been… what. A year? Done loads of things, met loads of people. Life’s pretty good.

I’ve got a textbook on EU Law opened up in front of me, my notes sprawled (digitally) across my “desktop” on the topic of Judicial Review and the review of the legality of Union Acts etc, etc. Oh, and a beer. And I’m watching 50-50 on an extended monitor (still amazed at how the Macbook Air can handle that much)

Met a girl recently. She’s quirky. Weird. “Recently” is not really accurate, we’ve known about our mutual existence for a while. She’s funny. She’s pretty. She’s altogether lovely. Reminds me of her.

God, I miss her.

Tipping Tender Traps Tripping Tripe.

When the burst of paper-white
Glares from between the emotionless gaze
Of hard-worded text,
Burning into my tender corneas with the force
Of twenty suns,
My soul barely shivers with careful expenditure,
Expelling strength and resolve
With all the slow purpose of a cow chewing turf.

Oh Lord!, purpose for purpose’s sake!
I have rendered such knowledge as is willing to be consumed
Into the grey linings of my dull’d mind.
Lo, do they resemble scars,
Cold and unfeeling, words and meanings,
Waiting for subtle or direct application,
The will of the pen by my will.
Will Will’s will, will?

The Invisible

They slip between the cracks
That lie between us all.
Blending into the grey of every day,
We’d hardly know they were there.

Some call them mad,
Heretics and Distant Dreamers.
I call them the Free,
And yet, with freedom comes its’ price.

It is said that those who wander out of the box,
Can never return.
There are no back routes or retreat,
No parley, no quarter.

Freedom’s flavour forever fickle,
Teasing the tongue
With colors hot and cold.
One even wonders if pain is the game.

Rocky Yawn

Out of my cave I quietly amble,
Wincing slightly at the sudden burst of light above.
I still myself, listening and pondering.
Waiting. Expecting.

Nothing happens.
A sniff of the air, crisp and chill
From a still fresh Spring
Betrays nothing exciting or dangerous.

A growl rumbles, tumbling through.
But I feel no threat, nor impending doom.
More so, a subtle kind of joy
Found in an expectant meal.

And yet that meal needs be caught
Lest the growling overcomes my being.
Over-thought has slain many a bear,
Crucified by the winds of chance upon the cross of too many ponderings.

And so ambling forward
I amble forth.
For ambling is the thing I do bestEven when I do not amble.

Senses

I walked sightless before realizing I had become blind.
The light at the edge of the world had dimmed;
Blending into the mundane and becoming nothingness.

Where was I? What had I become?
Lo, I could not perceive my very visage within
The murky depths of LIfe.

Long I wandered in senselessness,
Stumbling, though there were no obstables to fumble over.
The blade in my hand, and the one ‘pon my tongue; Useless.

That burst of Spring, I vividly recall
Came charging through my muddled mind.
Filling my ragged soul with a weight of Regret it was not fit to carry.

The winds of Time and Passing blew;
Autumn came, and Winter soon after.
From the blazing of the gentle boughs, to the freezing bite of the longest night.

Be still, be quiet.
Fear lurks just around the corner,
Flitting from shadow to darker shadow,
Thirsting, for pools of drained spirits.

Memory may lend you strength,
But they oft distract
As beautiful women
Holding forth sweet promise of forgetfulness

Honed blade that saves nothingness
From being.

The shackles, rusted and decayed,
Dropped shattered to the ground.
The ground, the cold, stone floor,
Chilled by the draft of a new dawn.

The old memories of sunlight and starlight
Blend and meld into this wintery awakening.
I’ve opened my eyes from the brightest dream,
Into the darkness of solitude.

I am scared, and sorely afraid.
Slowly, but surely overwhelmed by the magnitude
Of possiblity and a virgin track.
Oh wander not, hapless heart!

Rolling hills of grass and heather,
A bald head of granite on one hill,
And grand-fatherly white of sheep on the next.

Oh dampness, and the cold.
Rain, rain, it ever rains here.
Sometimes harsh, sometimes gentle as a lover’s kiss.

Oh land of my heart’s yearning!,
But not of my flesh’s belonging,
Stay green and young in my soul.

I don’t really know what to say. So stark, so grim a version of how this little film played out in my mind, in my heart, in my beliefs and in my soul.

Has it really come to this?

I’m losing my love, my spirit, my humanity.

I may become nothing more than empty virulence and being. I am sorely afraid. Ironic. So afraid. so filled with fear, of becoming something and someone I used to want to be with all my heart.

I’ve lost you. I’ve lost me. I’m holding on, and walking forward one step at a time. Just trudging along, as you told me you were, so long ago. I gave you my all, and then some. And now I have nothing left for me. Running on fumes and a near empty tank of air and pride. Hot air, as it were.

Regret burns. A younger me, filled with more naivette than the one I am now, if it is believable, once promised that I’d never be in a situation or condition of such intense regret. Life’s like that. It ignores whatever you want, whatever you hope to achieve, and deals gruel on your empty plate, to make do with it what you will.

I am now the enemy, I am. Where once I was a good friend, a best friend, a loved one, a beloved. Now, I stand before you as someone to avoid. To shun, to separate from, to be apart.

I bathed in the blood of my wounds, bleeding hurt and pain. I thought I knew pain. I though pain was a familiar. I was sincerely wrong. So very wrong. Pain had a new face that day.

So, trudge I shall.

I just want to …

I just want to scream. At the injustice. At the world. At the past. At the present. At the future. Nothing much in particular do I really wish to scream. No words, no sentences, no quotes from brilliant minds, no video game or movie references. Nothing.

Just pure, unadultered pain.

This feels like it’s going to be the death of me. Writing this out does help, somewhat, but it’s nothing more than a shaping of the knife that’s imbedded in my heart. Quit twisting the hilt. I think it’s pretty deep as it is. Are you trying to cut out a pony? Shit like that doesn’t happen in reality, honey.

Some of the pain stems from perceived injustice. Could you have no possible inkling what this feels like? How can you not see what you’re putting me through. I’m just tied up to a cross, and the crows of my imagined sins are pecking out my eyes. Apt, somewhat, since I can’t see. I can’t see how we got here, where we are, or where we can go. I look back, I see pain. I look here, I see a shitload, a wagonload, a bleeding tank of pain. I look ahead, and the future is hidden from me.

As it is hidden to everyone else.

I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m perceiving as I am, is because part of me, whilst being flooded with uncannily similar sensations emotionally as one would experience from a physical experience of identical description, is still hoping. Welcome to a Fool’s Heart. I’m hoping you can see me standing over here, across this river you seemed to have crossed on your own. I’m hoping you’d remember me, and stop piling on me the bondages of indifference, or throwing knives and sharp jibes from where you are. I am truly in pain. Truly. I may lie on occassion, but believe me you, I’m hurting bad.

That being said, I don’t really wanna be a bitch about this. I don’t. I still have some pride, but even that’s slowly disappearing as the days go by.

It really is the indifference that hurts so much. How could we have come from this, to THIS, in what seems to me to be a blink of an eye. The reasoning, the concept, the very idea ELUDES me. Hopefully, I will be enlightened.

I’m angry now. I am. But that’s only because of all this PAIN. Jeez, it feels like chilli padi water coursing through my veins. Feels like normal water, until it passes, and then it fucking burns the shit out of you. I really wish i could bury myself in work.

I really wish I could separate my mind from this, as easily as you seem to be able to, and dive into work and busy-busy-busy.

But I fucking can’t, unfortu-fucking-nately. No, I can’t. Sadly, the role of the Prime Minister in English Law, or even the doctrine of Judicial Precedence and all the accompanying arguments that come with that topic cannot distract me from this. Maybe it could, if i could just somehow crawl under the barb wire that my own mind has set to fence me in, but..

Barb wire.

And in my mind I’m essentially naked (and slowly dissolving. Let’s not forget).

Not exactly in my best interests to mix these two together.

HOWEVER, mentioning “best interests”. I’ve been a selfish bastard to you, no doubt. I have, I’m not going to deny it. But with that being said, what I’m doing now is absolutely not in my best interest, with regards to the present or the foreseeable future. No no no.. I’m delving into a mine of foolishness. Going against the better advice of my mind in favour of my heart.

Because I still believe.

I still believe, but I still need to say, all of this. This colourful, hateful portrait of words and imagery. Because this pain was never meant for mortals such as I.