The violence of thunder to come

 

Take in the silence,

the inviting silence.

The quiet solitude

of a nightfall horizon.

The wispy clouds swooping

into dreamy waves.

Enjoy the way the daylight fades.

Ignore the sound in the distance,

the violence

of thunder to come.

 

See the way the colours change.

Green to deep blue. Marooned

in this island solitude, only lit

by the shiver of the moon

falling in fractured slivers

over the grassy view.

Ignore the red smears that

streak through your thoughts.

The light fear in the air

that fizzles with hate.

Ignore the leer of menace

that permeates the atmosphere.

 

Sit for a second.

A brief existence flicking by.

As the silence of that

 

tick

 

is followed

by a static hiss,

an alarming sound, ignore this.

Sit in bliss watching the

moonlight kiss the oncoming dawn.

The most devastating storms

always arrive as humanity sleeps

away its fears.

 

For in this second of tranquillity,

all sits peaceful, easy.

The wind whispers breezily,

as the nocturnal animals

feed hungrily,

ravished, famished.

 

Shaken.

 

The air tastes metallic,

but the song she sings feels

uneasy, for she sings of terrors

to come, tragic warbling screams

in static haze, London calling

a late, ghostly warning

shaking through the airwaves,

the pounding ache mistaken as

flames licking the sky in one final

dance as daylight awakens

to the annihilated scream

of the flaming sun

and the blinding light

when all is

 

 

 

gone.

 

Enjoy the silence.

Plasticity of fragility

 

She shines through broken smile.

A simile of the miles her

mind has strayed already today.

The gaps between teeth;

pits she has fallen in,

but her mind is turmoil swirled

storms of denial. Finality

at the thought

of a door kicked shut. Hurt

at the scars it has dug up.

99 smiles of unbridled joy,

undone by one grimace of pain

at the thought of another night

under the same roof as her thoughts.

 

Fingernails dig into clenched fist,

indent where a ring once bit

like teeth chewing into

chicken drumstick bones.

Her moans

scatter her home as

she swings

and hits concrete reality,

bruising only her sanity.

Crumbled dust

and smeared blood mix

on freshly vacuumed carpet.

 

I'm so sick of this shit.

 

She hears that voice echoing

in warbling cascades of grey.

Failed screams

rebound from fragile walls.

Her angry breath never levelling,

a kettle simmering, a rolling

shimmer, ticking

like a countdown timer. 3 2 1

Then boom. It's done.

Boiling over

in foaming eruptions

that seem to last forever.

 

Her frustration at not being

who she was supposed to be.

A life lived in a lie,

a mannequin by his fragile side.

This was all supposed

to make me happy, I have

all I ever dreamt of,

but my mind betrays

my facade of glee.

The plasticity of my fragility

painted in shades of blue;

The life laid out for me.

Think of me

 

Do you think of me,

by candlelight

in the flickering

embers of the heart?

Do I cross your mind?

Could you open up and speak?

Even in a whisper, a please,

sighed in silence

to the moon that

you see. Whispers seeking

me somewhere

in your midnight sky.

 

Do you dream of me?

When those blinds drop

and the curtains billow

over the mental stage show.

Am I pacing stage right, or am I

standing under a spotlight

holding the audience enthralled?

Do you dream at all?

And do I wander those hallowed halls?

Teasing my fingers

lovingly across the walls.

 

Do you listen for me?

In the aching

of the wind

sailing

through your

seascape mind,

and do I seem to be sinking or soaring?

Are the thoughts hopeful, warming?

Do you hear my voice

in the way the heavens

speak mystically?

And do songs paint a picture

in your mind

that you can’t unsee?

Do you see the swirling skies

unveiling a heart that can never die?

 

For when I sit in silence,

when I listen to the duality

of day and night, I hear

your song singing to me.

It makes me see

the future I want for me.

 

And when I think,

I see ships afloat

like dancers on an ice rink,

swivelling and swirling,

in hopeful chorus flows.

 

And when I dream,

I see your smile

and the way you look my way,

the way your hair strokes your face

as gently as I desire

to trace my fingers

to the sweeping waves

that flow in hopeful

choral echoes.

 

And when I dream

I see your eyes,

and I never want to

open mine again,

whilst I see the beauty

I so wish to embrace,

So I dream of a wish,

a kiss whispered into space.