Thursday, 24 September 2020

The Song Challenge

 A song I discovered this month is Mary by Big Thief 

A song that always makes me smile is Electric Dreams by Philip Oakey & Giorgio Moroder

A song that makes me cry is Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits

A song that proves I have good taste is Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles

An underrated song is Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches

A song title with three words is Easy/Lucky/Free

A song from my childhood is Mamma Mia by ABBA

A song that reminds me of summer is 1234 by Feist

A song I feel embarrassed listening to is Feel by Robbie Williams

The first song that plays on shuffle is The Scientist by Coldplay

A song that someone showed me is Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

A song from a movie soundtrack is Worried Shoes by Karen O and the Kids

A song with no words is Gymnopedie No. 1 by Eric Satie

A song about being 17 is I'm Not Okay by My Chemical Romance 

A song that reminds me of somebody is Another Brick In The Wall by Pink Floyd




A song to drive to would be Halfway Home by TV on the Radio

A song with a number in the title is 99 Problems by Jay-Z

A song that I listen to at 3am is All In The Stream by S Carey

A song with a long title is Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh by Bright Eyes

A song with a colour in the title is Blue Suede Shoes by Elvis Presley

A song that I've had stuck in my head is Sticks 'N Stones by Jamie T

A song in a different language is , "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" by Édith Piaf 

Loose threads of thought

i. Phosphorus; atomic number 15, essential for life yet never found as a free element on Earth. It was given its name for Lucifer, for light-giver; surrounded by the oxygen we breathe, it glows.

ii. You and the colour blue have a lot in common, although I’ll always associate you with red. The cliché of an ocean, of a river that meanders smoothly through my blood and feels like it’s always been there, running that river, so I don’t realise until it’s too late. I’m empty. I’ve got no more tears, no more tides. The cliché of a spreading bruise and your voice a hum, the rest just spindrift. 

iii. Am I more like a swarm than a girl? I feel buzzing under my nails and tongue, my skin a hive of nervous bees. I feel dizzy in crowds and on train platforms because what if this body decides to jump? I picture bad moments so vividly; they never happen, the person under a train, a contagion of fire, a sudden silence and inexplicable emptiness. I count and count again what could go wrong and weigh it against the fragile goodness that I try to sew, but my calculations are always erroneous and nothing can put a leash on chaos.

iv. Combustible, relating to combustion; able to catch fire and burn easily.

v. We are brittle eyelashes and frostbitten edges, oxymorons and poor translations; our hearts are begging with each beat to escape this burning orbit, to crawl away and find somewhere beyond our atmosphere, where the constellations will have a place for each of them.

vi. Touch me and you will feel it- me as electricity. the blush of my cheeks and how my hair is always messy. In this simplicity, I catch myself wordless and that makes no sense. I  don’t have words for the burning- burns that left scars before, burns that won’t leave them now or do any damage at all because it’s not a real brand, it’s not the white-hot heat I try every day to forget I know the feel of or know of at all. It’s just the feeling that comes when you’ve so long been isolated and the touch of another burns so beautifully, so warm. There’s me and not just me and a switch flicking, no noise, no static, no unbecoming. I know I’m shaky, it’s been that way for years. But maybe now it’s just the shock of falling into something good. Something safe again.

vii. Melting, to melt: to thaw when exposed to heat. To become more tender, to become more loving.



Habits

I keep writing apologies, elegies, static frames with my palms facing up or framing a face without touching it. The same songs spin in loops on the intangible record player lodged in my brain. Then there are the poems, the verses. They are not the same. I sometimes wish they would return on a loop like a record on repeat so that I could put pen to paper, but my thoughts are racing ahead of me, riding gusts of wind or whistling through leaves or between the wheels of cars without having to pause for breath, because they don't run on lungfuls of air. I sleep when I can, as well as I can, but I seem to have taken up sleepwalking. That's the only explanation for why I was jolted awake between my bedroom and kitchen with my forehead slammed against a jutting wall. I rarely dream but when I do I am always either running away from or running towards something, or someone, frantically, and it's a terrifying threat that I'm escaping. I'm always cold even though it is summer. I was very lonely, but this is beginning to change. Among my apologies and lists of wrongdoings, I also keep writing litanies of questions to myself I still struggle to answer. I have stopped writing excuses but they still linger in my mind like an itch. 

Today I trailed my fingertips against the walls in my hallway so that I had something to focus on. I sleep with my cardigan and eyeliner on. I can't ever seem to get enough air when I breathe and I am terrified of seeing my reflection in a mirror or shop window. I still want to disappear but I guess I've become accustomed to living that way, and now I'm trying to make it work regardless.








Monday, 7 September 2020

Mistaken mind, hapless heart

Teeth marks leftover from half-eaten memories 
on my shoulders and among the knuckles of my fists 
feel infected, like some septic reaction I'll always have. 
I had given my heart- no romance but compassion, 
understanding, tolerance. That mistake was my greatest, 
wanting to help, waiting to heal, wishing to understand. 
All that trust, all those beatings with the words he knew 
would make me cry, make me hurt. It's a fault right here
in my heart, hoping for and trying for someone 
who left me most terrified, most sick and shaken, 
even more so because he knew it was my nightmare.  
He shoved me back in time so I had to see it, 
feel it, be it, be in it and there for it, all over again.