So Bloody Poetic

Sunrise

The sun rises and I begin to cry.

Of course, my life was always so bloody poetic. How the gods love their irony; the morning of my last day on earth begins with the most stunning sunrise I’ve ever witnessed. Oh,  yeah, sure! Humanity is lost! Everyone will die alone, shit-scared and without dignity; but gosh darn it, isn’t the sky just sweet today? The subtle blend of hues one hundred years ago would’ve inspired Monet to paint! Today’s sunset is predicted to be equally lovely… but luckily for me, I won’t be sat here in this truck weeping over the fucking colour of it.

I thought I was gonna die last night. When the city walls fell, I was so sure of it. But as Zack got closer to the apartment, flocking to the screams like hyenas to carrion, I went primal. Guess it was the ‘fight or flight’, but I don’t remember any of it – just disjointed snapshots, as distant from me as someone else’s holiday photos.

A broken-down door, muddy with footprints. Staircase – too many floors to count. A coiled bullet belt, empty. Glass-stained streets. Rotting carcasses; a dead baby, stomach bloated. A water bottle, empty. The most beautiful rusty old truck.  AK47, empty.

I do remember clambering into the truck. I drove through the night, didn’t stop once. The people by the side of the road were exhausted, desperate, dying. They plead, beg for the lives of their children, pray out in a foreign tongue. But how do you know that they’re people? Don’t trust anyone. Let them in the truck, they could start coughing and before you know it you’ve got Zack riding shotgun. Don’t trust. Humanity died the day they got out the grave.

The stupid fucking sunset blurs before my eyes. What good did it do? Running away bought me extra time, but ultimately I’m just as screwed. By the time the sun sets, I will be dead; whether by dehydration, human hands or Zack bite, it doesn’t matter. None of us matter. I squeeze my eyes shut, feel hot tears on my cheeks. When I look again, the rainbowed sky is so gossamer-clear I can see the morning stars.

A sunset like that is a good final memory.

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These are the things I never told you.

Sometimes I wish I was free
My head is clearer without you
Yet my shitty heart is relieved when you come home

You are extreme
I can’t find safe middle ground
Destroy me by day, adore me by night

Before you came I was alone
I had control and a good life
Now I’m yours, everything I touch fucks up

The Children Can Play

I came to this town to destroy it.

But then this little girl pulled on my finger
“Come down to the river with us!” the piggy squealed
I could’ve smashed her skull in like an eggshell
Snapped bones like breadsticks

But my human body was curious, and made me go with her

All the children of the town were there that day
Swimming, splashing, shrieking with laughter
They came to escape the heat and pesky parents
A naked boy ran up to me; “Have you come to play, miss?”

I almost smiled.

They were too innocent; I turned my back, leaving them to their happiness
They did not commit the crimes the town was guilty of
I could not smite these children
So I delighted myself as I tore the adults of that town to slivers
The King’s Justice.

And I left the children to play.

Exhausted

When people describe me, the first thing they say is
“She’s the happy one”
My character is defined by cheerfulness
But no-one can be happy all the time.

I can also be miserable,
Morose, melancholy.
The only difference between me and everyone else
Is that I shove that sadness somewhere where it won’t bother me

Everyone needs an optimist; but sometimes
Holding up a smile
Is more exhausting than simply being sad.

This Prison We Share

“Can we carry this love that we share
Into the open air?” (x)

As Anna’s fury began to drain away, like the puddles after thunderstorms, she was left with emptiness, no feeling but the throb of her cheekbone. The silent rooms around her yawned out, the music that Cally loved so much silenced. That was all her fault. She’s destroyed the music, and laughed as she did so; and the expression on her face would be something Anna remembered forever.

Oh gods, what had she done? She hadn’t meant to push the girl so hard, to cut her so deeply. Months of being cooped up on house arrest were driving her wild, but Cally was sweet and vulnerable. Snapping on her was like taking a magnifying glass to ants and watching them burn, for a lack of more interesting things to do.

Anna slipped out of the doorway, treading past the evidence of their fight; Cally’s broken records, lying smashed on the stone floor. Never again would their music fill the rooms, removing their grim reality and replacing it with hope. Now the walls pressed in, a reminder of the prisoners they were.

Anna slipped inside the room, moving to the end of the bed. In the gloom, Cally’s form was a dark island in the white seas of sheets. Even asleep, her forehead was tied up in unhappiness, and the moonlight illuminated silver tears trails staining her cheeks. She looked broken, tiny in the expanse of the room. The girl was so coiled up within herself, it seemed like a desperate attempt to hide; to make herself less of a target. Anna looked at her, and the dam inside her broke.

“Oh, gods.” Her voice, riddled with guilt, shattered the words. Lifting up the sheets the girl slid in, pressing herself to Cally’s back, wrapping her arms around her protectively. The girl stirred.

“I’m so sorry,” Anna whispered, again and again. “I’m sorry, Cally.” She was trying to heal wounds with words, perfectly well knowing nothing she said would be enough. “Cally, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The girl in her arms turned to face her, her hair dark in the moonlight. Cally’s fingers brushed against her girlfriend’s cheek, where the bruise was already swelling. She said nothing. Burying her face in Anna’s shoulder, her thin fingers dug in and clung, and she drifted off to sleep.

Anna stayed awake. The fragile body in her arms, so tiny and easy to miss, was infinitely precious. She kissed her cool forehead, wishing she could smooth out the worries that lingered there. How long will the two of them remain like this, locked up in this tiny cage? With Anna as the feral beast and Cally a mouse of a girl, there can surely be only one ending to this story. Anna shiverd, holding the girl close, and wished things were different.

Helicopter

High above, it prowls
Circling and scanning
Body thudding with a gruesome heartbeat
The propellers shred the skies
Compressing, squeezing, ripping up the clear night sky
Throwing down the heavens to cram into our eardrums
Children listen, wide-eyed, and yank their covers up to their chins
The noise becoming the backdrop of their nightmares
Parents wake to the throbbing sound and the scared whisper of their child
Above the city, the black fly buzzes
Restlessly circling, haunting, hovering.

The Girl Raised Wrong

This is the childhood fear
Of a sweet little girl raised wrong
To wake screaming from nightmares of sirens
And shudder away from men in uniform
To hide under the stairs at a knock on the door.
Now, as a grown woman
She walks the city streets with frozen eyes
Deep inside the child still sobs
And fear as ancient as god himself
Still tears her joy from lips that dared,
Just once, to smile.

My Mother Makes Me Human

My mother knows so many things
She knows how to make plants grow,
And how to soothe the ravage beast inside me
She knows how to cook for Kings,
And how to draw me out from my darkness
She knows how to dress in style,
And how to make me appear human in front of dinner guests.

But I am only just beginning to realize
That my mother does not know everything
I am only just beginning to decide
That it is time for me to live without her

Everything You Want

“You shitty spoiled brat! Do you always get everything you want?”

I snap. My temper finally gone, I stride up to him and smash my fist into the wall by his head. “I didn’t want my dad to die!” I snarl. His expression freezes in shock. His mouth hangs open so stupidly.

Adrenaline is giving me borrowed power, sweeping away any boundaries I might have had. The pain is too recent, the wound too fresh. My anger fills every spare inch of me and my hands itch. Grabbing his lapel, I yank him down and throw him to the floor. “Don’t. Don’t ever think you know me. Don’t presume so much.” I hack up a glob of phlegm, spit it on the floor by his feet. “Keep away from me, you fucking freak,” I command him, and stride away with a new swagger in my step.