Knight stride

Mixed messages only clear when it suits.
Solely tired feet and a broken clock.
Callous words from a trained mouth. I obviously need more practice.

I noticed the clicking cease when the hands stopped.
Muffled sound, somehow luminous.
I woke up to it flashing. And I walked away from the sunrise with its heat all over me.
So easily tainted, I think it's gone.
I won't exhibit the screwed up sheets. I won't exhibit anything that screwed up that night.

I wish I'd been Delilah: that I'd cut it all off. Sticky secrets entwined between my fingers and your locks.
But there's an insignificant piece of evidence that you didn't spot.

Nocturne

Each string resonates.
Each forms a dissonance with the previous.

No phrasing, no key.
No thematic structure.

No Debussian beauty about it.

The twang almost perforates my drum. Inaudible but memorable.
Nevertheless: stinging.
No chance of a callous to shield the raw flesh. It's triturated.

Something bellowed from the clouds. A promising bellow, accompanied by an enlightening harmony.

* * *

Fantastically: a paragon; realistically: paradigmatic.

Beneath my dignity to climb a tree

All children, except one, grow up.
I put my faith in an awfully big adventure and have been held back by your hook.
You're lost and disturbed. It's uncomfortable.
And although you've boarded a ship, you will never disembark that island: your mental microcosm.

The many scrap books among heaps of shredded paper won't let you.
You can scar yourself with nostalgia eternally but your skin will grow whether your mind does or not.

You are static.
I'm jumping on the wind's back.

Position vs. Momentum

Mathematically valueless. It's a fat number.
Its worth is debatable and conceptual.
It can't be understood unless you're part of the race to that figure. It's laborious trying to crack this code but rewarding nevertheless.

Pieces begin to materialise. But I still can't see the shape you're trying to convey to me.

Shout. It remains indiscernible.
Wail. Still latent.
Try switching your lights on.
Leave them to burn.
Then blaze the dormant mask away.

Ash, soot and flesh cover the tiled floor and walls.
Your superfluous exterior coating: gone.

Spot on.

The best source

Satisfied and brimful with alacrity, I am no longer hungry.
My appetite is concealed within my teeth: clenched in a grin.

There's a storm but it moved East. I felt the clouds leave.
Breathless but zealous, I held on tight. The gale can't take me back to the eye.
Current resistance.
I blundered into your disturbance and misplaced my vision.
I've walked asleep into brick walls and minefields. It's so easy to sleep through the alarms.
But I emerged enlightened.

When you mislay one sense, another intensifies.
After the tempest passed, everything was amplified
and I could hear exactly what I wanted to be.

Bad signal

No wonder your mind can't get reception.
We've left numerous messages that won't get through. The smoke has caused a break in the line.
You're cracking up.

I'm not.

The marks on the floor aren't emergency contacts.
They're spillages of sanity.
Each drop collected the drop before it and united as a flood.
A social gathering of deceptive globules.

The murky puddle didn't cause a trip. It just absorbed you and drowned most of your mentality.


No one can get through to you.
That can't be a good sign.

Opaque eyes

Once encouraged and motivated, I am now frozen.
Halted, I am drawn by a human current to the deepest part of the circle.
Somehow, I still float in this whirlpool and my eyes are focused on various cryptic grimaces and frowns.
Facial features sinking inward and downward haunt my lights.
Blue lights are a blur; the sirens are a piercing din.
Worn away faces bearing black holes for eyes where the emotion flowed out, stare.
Evasive expressions can't judge; can't console; cannot see.

Modifying my size to fit the different frames of mind.

I can't fight my way out and I can't let anyone in.
My mind and my body can't agree on a pulse. No longer stirred, I am shaken.