Days Of Calm


Trees glorious trees.

Ink across the eyes, moving invisibly like ghosts. Woken by a car alarm, dreams of a sexual nature shattered making me bury my head beneath a pillow in despair. It was a good dream as well. So much flesh and desire. So much warmth, only to be lost so cruelly in an instant. Sunshine shining through the window, and no work to talk of, I’m gripped with a sense of peace. Downstairs a few minutes later after dressing, and I’m sucking on an ice cube. Spat out in the sink, I feel fresh. A cup of tea and a cigarette follows. No plans for the day, just go with the flow. This is how my life should be. Writing, dreaming. No need to slave away in a job. Jobs shouldn’t define people, their dreams and love do that for them. If you need a job to feel happy, to make you feel alive, then you’re doing it all wrong. Happiness comes from within. Opening the patio door, I lay down on the floor and look at the birds in the garden and the trees as their branches sway in the breeze. There’s a ceramic skull on a step that’s looking at me with hollow eyes. It’s been there for weeks now, ever since I found it in the shed. The doorbell rings, but I refuse to answer it. There’s no need. Everything is calm, and I feel good.

I write until midday, and then a walk around the quarry follows. The sun illuminates the fields of grass and corn, and it makes me happy to be alive. I’m at one with myself. There’s no repetition of acts here. No empty words. Nature and life, everywhere I look, in perfect harmony. All around me, flowers and birds. Butterflies and field mice,  magpies flying between trees. Time disappears, and I’m lost in wonder and the pleasures of the mind. Fragments of my dream come back to me. Naked flesh, the curves of her breasts. Placing kisses upon her nipple, and sliding my thumb inside her mouth. Smiling, I leave it all behind and roll another cigarette. With no one else around, my fantasies play out with no interruption as clouds slowly dance around the sun.

People care too much about trivial nonsense. Useless appearances and social standing. They weigh themselves down with how others perceive them, and they measure the quality of their lives in terms of success. Life should be measured in terms of kindness and compassion, not how much money you have. People cling to the blueprint of what a life should be, because without it, they wouldn’t know what to do. It’s a form of accepted slavery. They happily allow themselves to be ruled. They think they are free, but they are not. It’s a shame that we allow this to happen, that instead of loving, we just plod along chasing status. Desperately seeking what we think is an accepted appearance of how we should be, just in order to fit in. Where’s the magic in that? Where’s the beauty, in becoming like everyone else? Instead, take my hand and let us float down stream to a place that isn’t real. Lets get lost in our dreams, and taste what it feels like to be truly alive.

Maybe that’s my problem, that I’m too much of a dreamer. But I can’t help it. I want something more from life than what people are so eager to settle for. Sitting here eating an ice cream, it feels good to be a dreamer, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have no worries about peoples opinions of me. They could hate me for all I care. You should never try to win people over, to make people like you. Be yourself, if they don’t like who you really are, then it’s their loss, not yours. Life’s too precious to worry about stuff like that. So do what you want. Spend the evening sat in your pajamas whilst reading and looking up at the moon if it takes your fancy. Maybe with a beer or two as well, just for luck.


I may be a dreamer, but I make a point of never smiling for photos.

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