Assail

,so I cradled my broken arm and ran as fast as I could using my shoulders. I could hear those dreadful footsteps slobbering behind me, tripping in hunger and desperation. The sound brought cold tears to my eyes. The insides of my cheeks famished and swelled from the constant, burning hyper-breathing.

I could not decipher which way to go, how to get away. So I just carried on, jarring myself against the thick parallel concrete walls that surrounded me. I prayed for relief.

I suddenly snagged on a creeping root and my entire body weight landed on my arm. With a terrible snack, and a pain that felt like someone had placed my arm on kerb and then jumped on it, came a horrifying, wet moan from just behind me. I scrambled to my feet and continued my agonising run. Every step I took stabbed me, and I could feel a juggle inside as my completely shattered bones shook from movement. I could hear those awful steps plummeting…

Closing in… Hot breath on my neck… I took the next left sprinting so hard that I sprung into the adjacent wall. This time my arm let out a falling-tree creak, but I didn’t have time to notice the blood that then started spitting. The impact surprised the thing and it hurtled forwards, being slapped by that long enclosure that kept us both trapped here. It gave me seconds.

But then it got faster.

I heaved everywhere, my life was just ache, my arm bleeding heavily through my white fleece. My legs fidgeted on each step I took. I was giving in. The thing had me. I was hopeless, my pace slowing, each turn and each shoulder against the wall knocking more from me than the last..

With pride, I snapped around, ready for a defeated dog fight. I was already dead.

But then it all glistened away in grey fog. The stone walls burning softly, their new state of matter drifting up slowly, in circles and bending lines. I watched, gently holding my broken arm as the sky formed into grey, and the walls came loose, and I could nearly see the shape of the maze I had bashed through now broke in suspension. Light as air it left me. With my broken arm I stretched, painfully, stained with blood on my clothes and my beaten hand that poked from the darkened sleeve, and felt the mist that rose from the wall beside me. It felt…slender on my damaged body. Healing almost, like deer tears roaming along the pain.

I turned to meet my chaser and found it lying in a massy mass. It was limp and fallen, just letting itself cloud. Its thick blackness eroded into grey too, it lightened as it flew.

The effervescence felt like home.

And then I realised, my devastated hand was dissipating too

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The Angel of Unlove

I was made human enough to be vulnerable, but angelic too, with gifts of unimaginable empathy, perception, love, and healing.

I have wings arched in my back, but sadly I cannot fly. My wings are beautiful and tender, they remind me of my purpose. I have wings, but I will never fly. I have endless love, but I am never to be loved.

I fall in love deeply and wholly and quickly. It is one of many curses. I am drawn to those with insecurities, those who do not know what it is to be loved, and I fall in love with them. I see this through actions, through speech, and most importantly eyes.

I immediately become a momentary guidance for them. I assure them where they feel their faults lie. I tell them things they do that are inappropriate, so they won’t make that mistake again. I shape them. I banish the broken from them and I teach them the ways of love – how to show it, how to act when you feel it, how to manipulate the negative outcomes of love (the things we sometimes do out of love and good intentions but are in themselves, a bad action), how to cope with heartbreak, how to use love to nurture, and many others.

I will give them gifts on every monthly anniversary, because I know that our time is limited, there won’t be yearly anniversaries, or engagement parties. All we have is the little time it takes for you to be healed enough to be capable of loving others. And I will present to you these gifts, in hopes that you never forget me, and maybe one day you will see them and smile. That is, something at least – to be thought of. To be remembered.

My love is always real, for it needs to be for my loved ones, who I have come to call “Passers”. They need to believe that their is no question in my method, or the love I give. They must feel its sincerity.

The final rule I teach is how to break someone’s heart – what that means for them, how they are hurt by it. It is a selfless act of giving empathy, and it is one of the main reasons I am an angel. I am to be everyone’s mistake – let them ruin me, so that when their one comes, they will know what to do, and most importantly what not to do. 

The distance that comes after our time between us will hurt me, but I won’t be broken. Whoever it was that made me this way made sure that heartbreak would wreck me enough to leave me on that edge, but never to be blown over. Because without me, someone else would have to do this job.

And I almost feel like Death. Trapped. Carrying people into adulthood, into love. But having to have myself used as the test. To see if they can love. And maybe sometimes Death wants to be alive? Maybe sometimes the Angel of Unlove wants to be loved.

Or why give me the ability to love? Why not have me as fake as the love I receive? Does it have to be genuine love? The love that cripples me, mentally begging for the passer to fall for me, as I have fallen for them…

And I love people enough to never let anyone feel this way, and so I will never give up my job. I will be tortured forever, I will bloom those who feel unworthy of love with the water of my arteries, and when they are ready they will leave me, or do things to make me leave them. And I will watch them forever through cloud, I will watch them all grow into loyal, beautiful, beings, and watch as they share their lives with someone deserving. Someone full.

I guess it’s poetic. I empty the vase of my love into someone, and then they are full of love and its ability forever, and that liquid will never deplete in them.

But for me, I leave the vase cold, until one day, scarred even more, my wings further dislodged, I will find that vase is full again. I will sigh deeply, and with sad eyes, I will fall in love for someone so that they can fall in love with someone else.

Hurricane

You promised you’d stay with me. Even after I’d approached the magician –

There was a man who was said to live in a house of raw unfurnished brick. He was rumoured to be a magician, with one of those eerie moustaches and a quick smirk that made your knees want to bend. He was also rumoured, but perhaps rumoured with a bit more circumstance, to be a pedophile. He was said to take the virginity of underage girls – though all was consented, and the girls who fell victim fell in love with him, so the police had trouble ever pinning the guy down. Given all the rumours about him, they couldn’t pluck one whisper up and say this is the truth anyway. The man was quite clever.

I went down to the man on a Spring day, my mouth flaming from the taste of Bourbon. You see, for some reason, the girls wanted to go to the man. It was like a shared unspoken wish for them. He was oddly attractive, and he had masterful hands.

One day my sister came home. She was fifteen, and liked to think she was older. I am the mishap of the family, and everyone else seems to have a level head, so I never worried about her visiting the man. She was small and brittle and pretty enough to fall in some high school love to keep her distracted until the age where she was wiser, or even to the age where the man would not touch her – they all had to be underage. All of them. But when my sister came home, she was shaky like a loose plank. It was just me and her in our little kitchen, and she sat down at the table, holding herself, and staring at the floor. Of course I knew. When she came to, which I waited for, she asked me for a drink. I was sixteen at the time, only a year older, but I was a drinker – as I said, I am the mishap. I took some of my fathers Jack Daniel’s and put a fair shot in the glass, and slapped it in front of her. With a rattling hand she drew it to her bottom lip and downed it, as tears flew like angels down her cheeks.

With a broken voice she asked my back; “What happens now?”

And I told her; “You’re older now. Now you have to fend for yourself.” And so I left the Jack Daniels out, for her to reach, and took the Bourbon and was on my way, as my little sister sat crumbling away her old skin.

The day was bright and it felt like Summer was peaking through the sky of Spring. I knocked on his door once. I wasn’t a virgin, I wasn’t a girl, but I knew he’d like me. The most popular delinquent, someone who was feared and respected, at his front door. He would know. And of course he knew. He knew who all the kids were in this town.

And he did take me in. And he held my hand as he lead me to the room. It was a tasty blue, the smell of soft baby powder scenting the light colour. The curtains were closed, the bed was made, and the decor was outstanding. Posters, drawers, a tiny marble clock with a loud tick.

I let this man inside my body, I let him do what it is he wanted, I let him feel in charge, and I let him smile as he did so. And then I took him captive.

I sq uee zed his jaw // tightly, I thr /ew him arou//nd the ro om. I ////smashed//// his head off th e drawers he so c aref ully clea//ned. I r/i/p/p/e/d the {curtains o f f their hook, I s mas./hed the window. I to/re the du-vet into sha-/-mbles, I k.icke,d the do,or o f f it’s hin/ges, I b//rok//e his no./.se and I b//rok//e his h-and..s. I to)(ok a piece of g.l/a.s/s and dr_ew his blood  //// from him and wr;o:te ‘RAPIST’ on his fore#head. I shaved his moustache. I cut his lip in half. Then I stopped.

I took a look at the devastation I had caused, as if a hurricane had left this place for rubble, and then I left.

And I told you. You promised you’d stay with me. And my friends celebrated me that night. They threw a huge party, and so many of the underage girls came and cried because that man had been destroyed, but so had a part of their life, and my friends assured me that I had done the right thing, and that night I had been crowned King of the town, and from that day on I was remembered as the boy who destroyed the magician, and me and my friends were respected even more, and we were called ‘The last of the hometown heroes.’ And we kept to that reputation. We fought every nightmare of our town. But we were so young. And the damage we inflicted took it’s toll on us. Such a burden to bear.

My friends and I decided we couldn’t keep it up anymore. We would devote our lives to our town, but our lives were dissipating, and so the younger folk, those who we inspired, would do our jobs. We had one last night, together.

I hated you. I needed to keep you away from me. We kept it all secret. We took LSD and hallucinated our day away.

I could see chemicals explode like fireworks on my skin. Me and my friends we all came together that night – in a romantic way – we connected in the only way we hadn’t connected yet. And I found myself heart-broken.

And I took it out on them. In the climax of it all I sank beneath them, and from under I raised  apocalyptic hell – I brought up our lives all together and i to/re it into tassels. My friends, my family, were r/i/p/p/e/d from the inside out. And then I stopped.

I took a look at the devastation I had caused, a personal devastation, my family, brothers and sisters, crying, screaming with hoarse voices. I shook their lives and everything they stood for and it lay in wreckage.

I had gone into that place, with the mindset that this was our last day as a family, and I had been correct. After the words I had spit, with such venom, all of our steel bonds melted from the acid, and we parted our ways. Our youth and all we did in the Summer and the Spring and the Autumn will never diminish, and in that way I suppose we will always be together.

And you found me. I don’t know how long you parked in that stiff spot, but as soon as I descended from the hooded room, you jumped from the car like you were the one on LSD and pulled me into you. You reminded me of your promise, and then you sheltered my face and put me in the passenger seat and drove off, away from the disdain. I could feel the gentle glow of harmony leak into tears of jagged discord all around me. My hands felt electric as lightning, my voice thunder.

You drove for hours. You needed to get me out of here. Madness was inescapable there. By midnight the rover ran out of gas and we stopped on some road-cliff in the dark. It’s a dangerous place to be stuck, right at a turn, with no lights to show you’re present.

You panicked. I waited in the car. You made a fool of the moon, and kicked the rocks, and I knew you were the last thing I needed to fix. You were the last ember of that town I needed to add substance to. So with a final breath, I went to the trunk of the car and took out the crow-bar you kept back there. Your arms were suddenly all over me, telling me to ‘snap out of it’ and not to let ‘it’ ‘overrule me’. But I knew what I was doing. I violently smashed your car windows, I stabbed at the tyres, as you screamed hysterically at me, begging me to stop. I got on top of the the car and let it r/i/p all over. When I was done, I dismounted from the car, and I went over to where you knelt defeated. And I took your face in my hand, and I softly kissed you.

“Hurricane.”

And then I walked off as it started to rain, wandered into a different town, and prepared myself for the connection I would have with it. And even though, my heart turned backwards and pulled against me like the tide, I wouldn’t stop.

Dillon #2

His skin is cold to touch. Colder than The Grey. His teeth are icicles. His tongue is vanilla ice-cream. His favourite colours are white and blue but he pretends they are red and black. When kissing his lips it feels like eating snow. His breath is always foggy. His blood has frozen, so he moves with stiff legs and turns slowly. He gleams with brilliance and cleanliness. He is immaculate and pure and those of wicked and wretched sin, those like me, are hurt to look upon his white statue. The light cuts the black of our eyes like a needle.

Nothing penetrates his glacier exterior. The pools of emotions inside him are never rippled. They are steady and lonely and never overflow and they are a young blue atop and embowled by a flawless white.

He deflects weapons and blocks punches. He is a white barrier. He is physically unbreakable. He doesn’t crack. He glows – a strict, skinny, skeleton glow that radiates from his skin. He is intimate with his surroundings and can surge them with confidence to withstand the wildest of winds and strongest of storms.

When he walks through empty corridors he glides his finger along the wall emitting little flakes from the contact that melt to a tear of water before they reach the ground.

I think he lives like he’s made of glass. Perhaps porcelain. A cold porcelain vase that doesn’t home flowers and acts as just an eye pleaser, a decoration on a marble mantlepiece. And so, he feels cold and worthless and looked at but not looked in, not studied, just passed, his existence fragile and unmendable once it shatters into fragments; picked up with delicate hands and let fall again. And again. And again. 

We could combine, little Dillon. You and I, the frost and the fog could attach and produce a new world. An illusionist and a shapeshifter. Who’s who?

Galaxy Goo

I could crack you open and galaxy goo would slime through the fissures, thick and dark purple and full of little stars.

You don’t even know that.

You have no idea what’s inside of you. What you’re made of. I guess that’s because you can’t see your eyes. Unless you look through mirror. But you and I both know, mirrors only reflect colours. Cosmic magic gets lost in translation.

I have seen your eyes. The first time I met with them, my lonely mind took their picture and replayed them to me – over and over. It connected us in that infinite land of dream and magic and imagination, where we will breathe and fly and implode even after this world has let us go.

You’re heavy. You carry yourself around and you tire yourself out.

Gravity despises you. You’re too hard to hold down. Gravity told Love to break you, so you chained canon balls around your ankles and kept yourself grounded.

That was bad.

You see, dreaming is flying, flying is rising above,out of reach from Shadow, the snappy-stick wetness that moves at night. We sleep to escape it. That’s why we sleep at night.

But you don’t sleep. Do you?

No. You shiver and stare at the stars and wonder.

Oh. Galaxy Goo! That’s us up there! Far from the ground claimed by malice!

I feared for your safety.

But you were safe.

When I turned and found myself deep within Grey depth and not alone, I found you! Oh, wicked truth! Beyond imagination! You are of Grey as I am, as she is! And I pondered just HOW A being of the Grey could survive the darkness without dreaming! Without sleep!

And so I realised,

At night as we leapt to Earths beloved universe and hid in a galaxy, you turned into your galaxy. The darkness couldn’t collect you because you collected yourself.

And so, you could survive the night. And, the night became your dream. And, you lived amongst devils and demons and were immune to their wickedness.

And then came the Grey…

Discord

The man of heaven lifted his hand so delicately so; and with a force, lashed it down toward the being underneath

and the being, a boy, hurtled into a windy curse, a curse of discord, and gravity became an anchor on his ankle

never to fly; to stay away from the man of heaven for all days. But the boy being smart, learned to run instead;

and he ran over the land twice million, until he knew it better than it’s maker – the man of heaven;

and so the boy took his curse and turned it into power; as he became the man of the land, a God too.

Stabilise

On my lonely venture, my love, I saw many things

From the shallow water to the monstrous fire I have walked

And I have ran too, and hid

My love, on my lonely walk I have been taken, abused, feasted upon, stared at, sang to. I have been praised,

And I have been feared too, and hunted

Many a life has twinkled by my presence and on, into on, there and back, around and under.

Bodies and Souls…

Lights and Fires…

and where are you?

Safe, in some warm place, with curtains and a bed. A tame fire opposite your sleepy mind, fed and clothed and perhaps patient for my arrival.

and where am I?

In some cold alley, my face stiffed with black smoke ash, my hair uneven and messy, my fingers burned and my clothes dashed with cuts from thorns. My nose bloody, my eye purple bruised, looking up to a frozen-twilight sky, sick, tired, unsure and lost.

Diminish and Replenish…

Effervesce and Fix…

Many a time, I would hold myself for the little warmth. I named that temporary warmth, I named it after you, and I kept you with me, and every time I got cold I squeezed myself to feel you. Guilty I felt, for bringing a part of you with me here, but then I remembered that I’m worlds away, and you are safe and I am not.

My love, do you cry at my absence? Do you reach your arm over your high castle walls, watching the roads in hopes to see me one fine morning?

Screaming – I’m screaming. “I am not afraid of you!” Scream I. In screaming, I scream “I am not afraid of you!” But, my love, I am afraid. I am terrified. Shaking, actually, breathing fear. I don’t know these roads! I have no friends here? I am here, in front of the face of horror, and its coal eyes do not blink as they follow me. It’s skinny jaw chomps noisily and I can’t see past it? I cannot run back, not again, run farther from you, run away, run ran run, running.

My love, do you miss me? Are you empty? Or complete? Has time crushed you back together? Were you ever not? My soul reverberates! What is this torment? Questioning questions never before questioned in a barren city overrun with bad-intentioned entities?

Oh, my love. In this dusky darkness may I confess something? You cannot hear me. May I confess something to the monsters around the corner, the spiders circling me, the lanky shadows looking down on me? My love, I found you. I found your castle, at the end of some forest, at the departure of some path, I found your castle. And there I stood, small to the colossal gate, weeping on its cold bars. But you – you who are, who can be, who is – terrify me. You terrify me more than those things that chase me, those things that catch me, those things that drag me from my bed. And though desperate for warmth and stability I ran fast away, blinded by wind until I was in lost again.

And I am looking for you again, because I have lost my way again, and nothing is familiar in this ever-changing vortex of a maze. And time…

I just need to stumble into your arms

Let the weight of everything I have done and faced, crash.

My last steps of this terrifying journey must terminate with you,

or it will never end