Echoes Below

The waste becomes a way to synthesise disillusion. Wondering what scars will heal and which will not. A verifiable token of esteem. Wittered away easily when complaints are done with the advent of mercies. A killing is in the offing. But we orchestrate to demonstrate and what use are we to argue? Twisting words decide what lies we can break with underneath. The small whisperings amid the low lying noise filters. The tarantulas working their way out of perspex ovens. What are we to do but accept the living fate of lives lost underneath. The traps used to ensnare and the little cost to look at illicit photos decry the path of an idiot's errand. A poor fool who wants to retreat into invisibility. Boundaries forged and crossed. The contents left unsaid. A matter for reflection but rejection is the final sum. A horrible context but somehow unsurprising. The theatrical appeal of being good running hollow. It's all so desperate and disparate to be dispiriting. If I only survive tomorr...

  In the moment that the word was said, twist the knife in me. The fact she's not around makes it that much harder. You've moved on from me and to her dying day liked me for who I am. She went to the ends of town to get the right food that keeps me somewhat healthy. I couldn't repay her enough with my gratitude. I'll miss her. I'll miss you. What you saw as hatred was merely fury and frustration at your stubborn refusal. Goading and belittling a genuine interest in things you didn't see as a problem. You never did, the sounds of "see how good I am, see how I'm helping you" just felt like a self-knowing Mother Theresa mocking me even if it seemed genuinely good intentioned. I wish things turned out differently and my anger never showed. You'd still complain about things I never do to you and bring up old complaints again because you just want to lash out. You'd cut me to pieces and expect me to run like a big old dumb machine. But a moment o...

It seems blackly comical that I persist in loving you even after the time has long since past. You misreading situations from the past like time immemorial. You wanted to be queen, you wanted to have the same feeling that destroyed me as a teenager. Petty jealousies run rife with you. Now you've got someone who has the same petty jealousies you once had. I'm just the enemy who gets in the way. The feelings I believed in but was always too muted for your liking - too timid, no grandstanding acts of love and devotion. You pinpoint the negatives without looking at the reasons why. And if you did you'd twist them to suit your agenda. But then again, this time isn't your fault. You got ambushed when your guard was low and I would've worn you out with my medical provisions. It just hurts when I'm the one who gets in the way. My bitterness has always been a part of me. I've said we'll still be friends but I sometimes wonder if that's the right decision. The...

The morning raids my feelings. And we're left behind at the beginning. Did it ever matter that you ransacked me? That we occasionally still share a flat from time to time. I play getting by. But the loss is hitting me in ways I couldn't foresee. If you felt happy at being the one who brought me out of my shell, watch now and see me retreat into my lowly shell. I know who you see and I'm in an exercise group being the token bloke. The fascination stops there given I'm at the midway point among all else. I kept pushing and pushing but my body has given out. It's nice of you to say you feel guilty but it doesn't do much for me. I still live with the pain. There's not a whole lot from which I can gain. If I could retreat further, if I could all but disappear, maybe I could feel something again. Both of us will move out, another chapter in our lives gone. You just had to needle your way and blame past history on me. You never took account of your actions until yo...

It's weird to hear myself being talked of as the enemy. I'm the one that steals his time with you. "What did he want?" I never thought I'd see the day. I never thought I'd be talked about like a pirate that hoards the bounty. I guess it must've always been this way. Down the lines of guilt entrapment, the recognition flows into seeing what we have here. Of what was and what is now. I guess I know my place in all this. I guess you enjoy one man's paranoia and lust and another's defeat. Go ahead and play the guilt, it doesn't change the mess I'm in. Yesterday's heroes are tomorrow's problems. There's nothing here that will change our lives. Closing the chapter. I wore you out with everything I had to deal with. I wish I had your energy now. I just feel you misread me on certain levels but it's not like I helped myself with my actions. I just wish I wasn't around to know of myself as the enemy.

It's here where we part with differences. It's here where I yearn not to see all the paraphenalia that you possess. It's here where I yearn not to hear you crow about your new heros of political vantage point. I'm not enamoured with your lust in identity politics. It's here where you will enjoy someone who has the same outlook as you. The one that doesn't go on about every new war in the world.  The coded smears for those you despise, the newfound lust in evangelical preaching of hatred. Dehumanising the enemy. It just isn't right. But then I do it too with politicians and their actions I object to. So it makes the point moot. But the point still stands in your dogma. In your language. I'll never understand your evangelicism when reading things that preach to your sensibility. "Then what does that make me?" Biological "Then what does that make me?" Pathological We're all the same in the end, it's just you want to intensely foc...