Under the Wheels

deathly

 

Is it in a kiss, or in words, or a gaze? Can you feel it in the air or is it just the flesh? Is it in a cigarette or the bottle? Is it a knife in the guts, or is it something we have no comprehension of? Don’t know. Don’t care. Well, that’s not strictly true. It’s a language that can’t be deciphered, so I don’t see much point in searching for what can’t be found. We come close with paintings and poetry and music, but the essence of what we feel inside is as fleeting as scent. It wasn’t meant to last forever. If you feel it, then cherish it before the breeze takes it away again. It comes and goes. It hangs around and then it moves on. Maybe it’s beauty. Maybe comfort. Maybe it’s in our bones, or could be it’s only surface deep. Whatever it is, I’ve felt it. Not often, mind, but it’s been there just the same as all the other stuff. Y’know, the depression and anxiety- the less than attractive stuff. But we are what we are. You take the good with the bad. You take beauty along with the perverse. There are good hearts and cheating hearts, sometimes both. Sometimes, when you’re not looking, ten years will get behind you and bite you on the arse. Some of us drop like flies, and others stick around. We remember the useless shit and forget the moments that matter most. We destroy what we should protect and protect that which destroys us. Guilt, pain, and regret. The holy trinity we need and despise all at the same time. And to think of all those truths we keep buried inside. What a circus. And yet the days come and go and with them the lovers that shape who we are. Remember their faces. Remember their names. Remember each detail because they’ll fade, and one day soon, they’ll be gone along with everything else and despite your best efforts, you’ll never get them back because there’s never a way back.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com 

27 replies »

  1. I was thinking this morning that emotions are a wave that you either ride or drown under. But I prefer your eloquent description, the essence of what we feel is as fleeting as scent. Through your eyes, there is more hope. And spot on with the trinity. I love this piece.

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