You could lay there all night. Captive you slam your body further and further down into the mattress. The length of quiet is unmeasurable, how long has this silence lasted? It would be pointless to end it now, so it goes on and on, like track six on your best record, the bit that skips repeatedly until you lean over and move it an inch.
The words you couldn’t form earlier roll over in your head, a loop hole free, locked up and checked out argument back up in your brain. Unable to come out with it, you tell yourself you don’t want to break the silence but you know you just don’t want to be the one to break it first. So you just stay, still and rigid with your epic retorts bouncing off the sides of your mind. You can feel them breathing behind you, aware of the small but epic distance between your bodies. It feels like you’ll never close that gap again.
I’m printing out flyers for me teas disappearance, there’s no milk in sight, an intruder reet near us.
Popping up, bobbing, floating around. A little tea bag is sleeping quite sound. ‘Away with you tea bag you’ve no business here’ ‘There’s a meetin with binbag in a room at the rear’.
A disastrous morning it’s been in my house, no biscuits for dipping. The suspect …
‘Leave it to me Jean’ when making the drinks. Perhaps ’twas her plan all along, I now think.
At the start of a new year you get to witness the people around you rejoice in the chance of a fresh start and it’s great to see so much positivity, however short lived that may be.
Now I get that people also see it as a chance to lay the past to rest to look forward to a better future. Great, fine by me. What I find odd is the compulsion to wait for 00:01 01/01/?? to make these changes, a yearly confessional that skims over the last 12 months of stagnation. Why wait? For me it is important to make everyday significant, to constantly evolve, learn, adapt, and keep moving in whatever form I can justify. If that means spending my whole day in bed only leaving to pee and grab snacks that’s fine as long as that stems from a pro active decision in my brain to do so. Too often I have fallen victim to my own sporadic anxiety or passive emotion that leaves me bed bound without my consent, but I’m learning to work with it.
That phrase ‘New year new me’…grim. Don’t get me wrong I think it’s great people are enthused and feel powerful enough to make changes they want to see. In two weeks time when dry January has turned into just a dribble Jan I won’t see it as a failure. I know that at any point I have the power to put that Gin down and walk away and even pick it back up if that’s what I chose to do. Even on Tuesdays…fuck Tuesdays. Stop restricting yourself to manufactured new starts.
If there is one thing I have come to understand recently, it’s the value of reassessing our attitudes and how we treat ourselves and the people around us. Remembering everyone’s problems are relative and how dangerous it is to compare your issues with others. What may seem insignificant to you could be causing someone else pain. I also believe offering support to those you know need it, is imperative. However it is equally key to understand when you aren’t capable of doing so. There’s nothing so close to failure as an empty promise or gesture. Less words more action.
Personally I have found the ‘transition’ into 2017 hard, my family and particularly my dad are still faced with the same difficult circumstances we had just a day earlier, there definitely isn’t a refresh button when it comes to health in all the different ways that it manifests. However we are so capable of adjusting our attitudes and forgiving ourselves in turn. So in some ways I’d love for a yearly do over but a year is a long time to wait.
Are they asking for some insight? Do they really want to know? If you lay it on them thick and fast will they excuse themselves and go?
‘D’ya know there’s a tiny bit of green stuff tucked in between your teeth?’
‘Excuse me luv…sorry to ask but is your first name really? …Keith?‘
I’m stumped for any answer and I don’t know what to do.
When asked the simple question. Hey Darlin, how are you?
lazy hazy days
step out into the sea
pull apart each deep breath
and count every beat
lazy hazy days
slowly sinking down to your knees
clawing at broken flesh
haunch of dead white meat
lazy hazy daze
pickling the red washed salt
wounded ache of the gulls above
come to sing their treat.
I’m writing to me, well you, us. To inform you that time is happening. It happened for a year, it happened yesterday and it’s happening again today. Very slowly and then all at once and you don’t really notice it creep by until it’s been and done and shown its colours.
I…you arrived home yesterday. All the trees are taller, as are the children. On my arrival the tallest taller small one gave me a rose. The smallest taller small one booted me in the shin.
Home is different every time I visit but it’s always home, my red bricked house on the summer estate. My adults though they seem to be shrinking and painting things strange shades of mauve. They keep mentioning something about moving but I inform them that’s a terrible idea and then everyone has a cup of tea.
we ponder, if time is happening then surely age is too. I decide to inspect this in the bathroom mirror. I suspect I’m probably correct, lines have grown out the sides of my eyes making me look a bit like a lizard and my grandmother..I presume having never of met her/them. It’s quite a big presumption but I imagine they’d look like me or rather the other way around. I’m not usually this coherent this close to lunch time but for once the dogs wagging the tail, as they say? They do say that?
Anyway the trains about to arrive and you know how terribly anxious me is when it comes to finding a seat so we should leave it at that. We should write again soon.
Pen and paper tubs of ink
that’s what I’ll use to hide this stink
no need for me to rant and rave
pages bound become my slave
etched upon these crisp white sheets
morbid slants and boring bleats
they’ll tell our story as it stands
and keep away from moral hands.