We Who Walk

Wrong side of the tracks, that's always where we seem to walk, apart from the rest of the pack. But throw caution to the winds, we don't give a damn. We'll be who we'll be and not lose any pride to those who try to tell us how to live. We'll love who we love, we'll do what we do. And all the while we'll try make sure our hearts are in the right place.

The Latern Graveyard

Well, I'm sorry I took a breath for a moment of wishful thinking. I'm sorry that I let my mind wander. I'm sorry that I allowed hope to stir within my chest. I'll lock it away, hide it in the graveyard of lost causes in my heart, and pick myself up from the disappointments, brush loneliness from my clothes, and take another tour of the cemetery, looking out for someone who might spare me some sympathy, or some love. I'll leave a candle burning in a lantern for you, dear, and walk in the light which mingles with that from those other flames, already hung, old and dim; illumination to a brighter future.

Thief, Giver, Executioner

Sleep. Sleep, come, arrest from my soul the things I would not miss - memories of long lost friends, whom I could offer no more sympathy for their hardships than congratulations on their successes, steal away moments idled away in days and months and years, and with them those moments when someone's opinion crossed the line from hopeful to contemptuous. If you should want times of false self importance and narcissistic resolve, then they too are yours.

But take not the loneliness, or the invisible scars rent by the clawed fingers of another's ego, the giver hiding behind anonymous bricks and latticed windows. Those things I shall keep. And take not the moments of achievement following self pity, nor the gratitude and relief which follows the completion of a great work. Take not those times which shaped me.

And if that be the case, take nothing from me at all, for I would not be who I am without them. Therefore, one final request, my dear slumber: render unto me the visions which ease my tormented days as they resurface in snatches like time lapse photography. Leave me with everything, slowly fading behind the transparent curtains as the ivy uproots the mortar.

The Incredible Journey

Pack your bags, your old battered trunk, and wait for me by the side of the road in your red beret. We'll go away, anywhere, disappearing into the haze of heat rippling into the horizon, a couple of dreamers with no direction and active imaginations to match. We'll curl up together in cheap motels and complain about terrible food; we'll take the long road, explore antique shops and stop wherever we want, snapping photographs on old film cameras.

It doesn't matter that we don't know each other very well, or that we've exchanged more glances than words. I want to walk the forgotten places of the world with you, and trace my finger along the length of your arm as we lay among tall grass, the crickets the only orchestra we know. We shall learn each other as we learn the country, the sky and the stars; we shall learn each other as we learn ourselves. You only need say yes.