ade

i rest for the night,
though in the dark
i cannot sleep,
for the glow of my
imperial bones.

they haunt me,
and they ache.
virginal & pure — i am new to life,
but innocence has left me.

i follow any lights now,
electric and so on.
a traveller of the streets,
following cars and so on.

i hitch hike,
or so i say; i never do
step in.

just look through the window,
leave my reflection
on the back.

they’ve had to grow,
adjust, accommodate
but there isn’t much more
to give.

heart pounding and head swelling,
my body can’t cope.

    it was a thursday and i was riding on the bus home. all alone, i was content and collected, my thoughts near here or there and my mind somewhat at ease. i felt a strange glow about me, as if i was caught beneath a spot light, and for a while i put it down to my mood but then, as i was about to cross over the alexander bridge — i just managed to see that between the spindles of green metal and the diagnol slants of some far off roofs, that the sun was especially orange and unusually magnificent. it had a tint that i had not previously came across; it seemed new, it seemed special and it seemed hopeful. i felt like it was shouting to me ‘Stay strong, Adam. Have faith, and a lot of it. Stay on the bus and keep on going till you’re exactly where you want to be. No matter how many red lights of traffic jams you get stuck in don’t ever get off, for life is filled with hope and each day has a new sun and you’ll see thousands more — so please, have faith.’

    but it wasn’t, it wasn’t saying anything at all to me. it was just an object far away, unaware of me and my troubles, unaware of anything - and that’s when i thought to myself, ‘Is this life?’

    sitting on some ugly & polluting craft on my way to a home that doesn’t feel like a home in a city that doesn’t feel like my city, is this life? lying on some guy’s bed, sharing kisses that will break hearts but not having the courage to stop, is this life? walking idly down some path that leads to a place you don’t care for and wouldn’t miss were it to vanish, is this life? sitting and watching the clock tick in a small and pitifull bedroom, wanting to do everything and being able to do nothing, is this life? eating when you don’t want to eat, and sleeping like some over worked machine when you want to be living, is this life? realising that not for one moment in the 16 + years you’ve been breathing that you have never felt truly happy, or truly fulfilled, or truly hopeful, is this life?

    honestly, somebody, anybody, is this it? the big deal? the divine being? the be all and end all? because it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and lately i sure as hell don’t want it. so if this is it, if this is really it then i’m sorry god, or allah or fate or whoever you are, but i think i’ll politely return your offer.

i shouldn’t be aloud to socialise nor live,

verbose, like the bird’s song
each morning. it is there,
and constant yet only as of
recent am i aware.

glass, glass - i look back,
through the days and
i look back through
the years

and i am bluntly woken—
it is my turn to see,
O, the obvious, the bright cascade.

it taunts me, and i weep,
for howlong have i
been asleep?

did i know then,
in the womb?
that the cheap white
and the lover’s touch,
was not mine?

just howlong, have i been asleep?

foolish, i am quite indeed,
that i had ever hoped,
ever dreamed.

so let me reveal, let me
brag—
some consolodation for the
wisdom i’ve lacked.

for i know now,
that within us each is a clock.

and we run not on a
beat-beat, but a
tick-tock.

and i feel how sad
it truly is,
the pain of when two lovers meet,
one at two
& one at three.

i’ve been fifteen thousand
shades of blue,
having thought of
you.

and i’ve blushed fifteen thousand
shades of red,

and i’ve sunken through fifteen thousand,
shades of green.

and now i’m white,
and plain,
but neutral tonight.

went to an art exhibition with a friend today, it was nice.

feel a bit weird now and i’m really pissed off ‘cause i’m cooking a ton of food and i’ll only wind up googling sexy men tonight and wondering where my jake gylenhaal body is hiding.

don’t know what to do really.

dearoldlove:

I am aware that our intense love affair is a fiction of my own making, but I can’t shake the beauty of the story.

the last ever brothers & sisters. tonight, a piece of my heart dies.

     it was whilst i was laying on his bed that i first noticed the portrait, for there, accumulated amongst the ugly shelves, i saw her staring downwards at us with a willfull gaze. high and beautiful, she was my very own mother mary and i knew now that this was special and pure. i couldn’t avoid her blissful blue eyes and she had the beauty of a fawcett lady, i wanted to know her.
     ”what’s her name?” i asked, and he shrugged in reply. “Faye.” i followed.
     ”No,” he said, “Faith.”

this page is slight,
ever so slight.

i usher a whisper,
wish a tug & i come—
loose.

barely a journal,
a mind,
a soul.

patchwork, staples.

a’dam/as -a’ntis m.

adamant.

steel: diamond.

a’dam/o -a’re -a vi -a tum vt.

fall in love with.