Some stars and a handful of tiny stones to throw upon the surface of the lake. Maybe they’ll skip along, or maybe they’ll sink to the bottom never to be seen again. As a kid, I wished for the ability to drain all the oceans just to be able to see what was underneath. The thought of glimpsing those wrecked ships and planes hidden for hundreds of years used to keep me up all night, such was my infant thirst for mystery. The idea of walking from country to country while in the shadow of those once underwater mountains; it would occupy my mind until I’d fall asleep exhausted unable to wake in time for school the following morning. Throwing each stone as well as my cold fingers will allow, I attach a wish to each one before launching them through the air. Those stars, they hang there the same as they’ve done since I can remember. At times, it feels like this place never changes, like I’m stuck in a stasis and life is as hollow and as empty as those cans of Coke that blow in the harsh wind on nights like these. And how they blow, so energetic and carefree yet directionless and doomed nonetheless. But it changes. Everything changes. It’s just that we hardly ever take the time to look closer and notice. Maybe I’ll pop into a store and pick up a bottle of wine. That place near the bus station, perhaps. I like that one. The guy working there in the evenings always makes conversation with me, and although he never knocks any money off the overpriced bottles of white, his smile and charm make me feel as though I get something a little extra for my dollars and cents. Yeah, I’ll go pay him a visit, and then I’ll listen to my music while walking back along the main road. The headlights of the oncoming traffic look so pretty at night, and in the distance, when the land begins to rise, I find myself gazing down upon the town and it too appears so pretty and serene when in reality, it’s full of decades worth of piss and rain dogs and more of those empty Coke cans that dance around streets with no name. You know them as well as I. Perhaps one day when the weather gets a little warmer, we’ll walk down one and make it our own.
A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.co.uk
A Journal for Damned Lovers Volumes 1 & 2 on Amazon.com
Categories: Lucid
Reblogged this on All About Writing and more.
Thank you! π
Your words always take me somewhere else.
Loved this one π
I am blessed with knowing that they do.
Thank you β€
Spot on. Full of imagery I can feel π
I’m so pleased you do! Thank you π
I love this.
β€
Wonderfully Entertaining. βΊ
Thank you very much π
You’re Welcome βΊβΊπ
Felt this one too….you are so good at getting ideas across.
That’s very kind of you, my friend.
I’m so pleased it reached out to you.
We are often forced, to give up on our childish fantasies, to grow up, by our adult counterparts’ demands, and they don’t realize, that childhood is what makes us into capable adults later on as we become adults.
Yes, childhood is the guiding light. It shapes us for our entire lives. Those that let go of their infant selves so often lose sight of who they are.
Wonderfully descriptive!
Thank you very much, my friend.
Reblogged this on jimmi campkin.
You kind beast.
Wow you wrote this so wonderful, i love raw and honest your work is. I could imagine each line truly remarkable.
That’s so nice of you to say. It touches my soul knowing my words reach out to you like that.