the world slips from the tips of desperate fingers.

What happened to the carefree days? With school and friends and life so simple? With the birth of every new sun it seems something else is taken from me. Friends, loved ones, family, innocence grated away like the limestone cliff faces ravished by sea and time. As life spins and twirls around me like a smoke haze. I sit in the middle of it not exactly knowing or caring to pay attention to the things that may someday not be there. Its funny how that works. Looking forward to tomorrow and regretting yesterday too much to realise the here and now. The sad truth is that one day we will all die, to an extent we can control where and how but that day is still coming, that freight train is steaming towards us with no sense of slowing. So why then are we all so rushed to get to that place or away from this one? When the ever changing ever shifting concept of time known as the “present” is all we have and like grains of sand slipping through our fingers one grain at a time, it too will soon be no more.

The Toyshop

The fog seems to seep in from every crack and pour, the smell of dusty old wood lingers in the air. The silence is pierced only by the sound of an old man working feverishly. He is the toy maker, his entire life has been devoted to making the beautiful little dolly for Susan or the best red train set for Tommy. His toy’s are renowned for their beauty, there symmetry and perfection as if made by machine, but there’s something more, though, something warmer than anything of steal could ever create. He is old now, his eyes are poor and his hands shake, but his toys still are perfect. On this particular night he is making a set, a little doll of a girl and a boy holding hands. “huh!” he proclaims as he adds the finishing touches to them both, for her, light blond hair and deep blue eyes, and for him jet black for both, with a well versed stroke of his hand he paints a pretty smile on the girl, a smile that could melt the hearts of any who see her. But as he goes to do the same for him, he realises this will be the last toy he ever makes as pain suddenly grips his chest. He slumps forward causing the line for the boy’s smile to arch downwards on one side. The old man’s years finally caught up to him as he passed away that night. Time passes and once the man’s funeral has come to pass his toys are sold off, as he has no family. But because of the boys broken smile nobody wants to buy the set. So there they sit in the toyshop on a shelf holding hands staring into nothing. The girl’s radiant smile beaming at all. She seems not to notice the boy’s asymmetric happiness, as she cannot see where his smile falters.

And So It Begins.

And so the night stills, the crimson still runs slowly across the black tiled floor, it’s time to go, it’s time to change. A new name, a new scene. The only evidence of this deed being in my own mind. A fortress in which no one may ever see. Stood in front of a mirror, broken, to match my soul, to match what you did to my heart. It’s time to begin again. To pick up the pieces of shattered glass and dreams smudged with tears and begin to rebuild again. Maybe a new outlet is what i need, a silent place to fill with screams so that they may echo back unto me so that at least one person may hear them.