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Here's to the man, waiting in his car, frustration and anger running into the creases of his deeply contoured face. He is reaching his hand to the air, grasping, trying to grab hope from somewhere. He clutches the steering wheel, tightly, makes his anger spread among the cold metal and plastic. And from this, he gathers more hatred. His head is thumping.
The girl sits beside him, staring out of the window, pretending she is listening. She can only hear the car shake with his enraged self.
"Mmm" She agrees.
What was she agreeing with? That the French traffic system is outrageous? That the sky will fall from the heavens tomorrow? That life is pointless?
She knows that he is not angry at the traffic, he is infuriated with life itself. The slow pace, the fast pace. The fact that it is never regular. The fact that he might lose her and be alone again. Life is unfair and unfamiliar, he cannot come to terms with it. He twists and turns in his bed every night, his mind can never be at peace, not even whilst he is sleeping. She is forced to sleep on the sofa. She wishes he could just let life flow....
But she loves him. She doesn't mind. All she craves is for him to touch her hair, smell it and kiss it softly. For him to let her lie on his chest, just for a little while. She'll feel warm inside then. She'll feel loved.
What is he fighting?
Life.
How can you fight life? You cannot control it.
It is the sea, dragging you under, washing you up, drowning you, refreshing you. You can gasp above it, hold your breathe below it. Sometimes you feel helpless, but eventually someone will throw you a lifeline. You cannot fight the ocean, it's a being more powerful than us. All of our thoughts and feelings put together couldn't meet the might of the ocean.
We are all predominantly made of the essence of the sea. Water. Simple and clean. Why can't he let himself flow like the water he keeps inside? Don't fight, listen to your heart, not your mind, for that is where the ocean would take you.
Lie in a little boat in the middle of the vast, blue beyond. Rock with the waves of eternity, gently rippling away. Listen to the calming sound of water lapping against the side of your life raft.
And the sky growls, lightning bolts streak across the rumbling mass of dirty clouds. You open your eyes, worried about the path the sea has chosen for you. Cling on to the sides, with both hands, tense your body. Watch as the water rolls in great crests of rising "things that might be" and fall into "things that never were, but could have been". They roll around you. And you shake from the cold and the wet, you shiver. And cling. And tighten your grasp as the "thing that might be" finally comes true, crashes over your little life raft, lurching you off your safety, into the terrible wrath of the aching, moaning ocean. You scream with it's sorrow, trying desperately to hold on. This time you just don't want to watch, so you close your eyes, try to find an escape in the form of a dream.
He folds his eyelids upwards to open his sleepy pupils to the dim light, he hesitates as he does so. His head is still thumping. Ah. The cars are moving. Frustration flows away. His head turns to see his girlfriend, they both pass a fake smile. He drives the car along the lengthy, grey road, in the inflexible way that has been with him for such a long while. She prepares her mind for another night of shunned sleeping. Her shoulder curved away from him, she stares out the window at the stars. They are finally going home. Rejoice. They are finally getting somewhere. Rejoice.
But he knows he's in for another night full of sleeplessness.
And she knows she isn't really getting anywhere, but is stuck in the love which she cannot drag her unappreciated self away from.
But it's a narrow margin, not that far to jump. Happiness is just a leap over that 100 metre wide gorge. Just a short leap. Just....a....short...
.....She lies in the middle of her life raft, holding his chest, swaying with the ways of the tides. He is there. She needs him for life. But as she glances up, his face is a blur. All of his defining features are sunken into the fleshy white. And the sweep of the water around her mind makes her eyes gleam. It dawns on her. It is not him she needs. It is the person who is waiting for her among the shadows, he has not been discovered yet. And so she sighs, she knows what she has to do. All you can see from the distance is a figure clambering off her life raft, beginning the long and difficult journey to that person in the shadows. She treads the water with her limbs.Gazes back at his dull body lying there, she swims away with regret in her heart, but knowing that leaving is the right thing to do.
His boat never had her slender body within it. He was always alone in life. She was only thought to be on his life raft with him because she was beautiful. That is all he ever thought of her. Not even once did it cross his mind that she might be amazingly strong to put up with him for all that time, and find a way to love him. The water is calm now, but he can hear the sky growling over to the west. The sun shines over his ragged, ripped clothes. He is beaten and hurt from the hell that the sea flings at him. He can rest now, but soon the waves will throw him off his rickety wooden path again. He'll hold on, get through it. Just like he always does, but he'll be left with his inflexibility and frustration forever.
She lifts the suitcase over the front door step, she had packed whilst he had been tossing and turning in his bed, stained with the tears of his devilish nighmares. It wouldn't be like he'd miss her. She realised that now. It was time to swim away, away to something new, something that would keep her safe and loved. She would leave him to his anger. And she closed the door behind the mass of his blue ocean...
And the thunder rumbled across the ceiling that was the sky, over his thumping head. He was really alone now...
And he felt it.
The girl sits beside him, staring out of the window, pretending she is listening. She can only hear the car shake with his enraged self.
"Mmm" She agrees.
What was she agreeing with? That the French traffic system is outrageous? That the sky will fall from the heavens tomorrow? That life is pointless?
She knows that he is not angry at the traffic, he is infuriated with life itself. The slow pace, the fast pace. The fact that it is never regular. The fact that he might lose her and be alone again. Life is unfair and unfamiliar, he cannot come to terms with it. He twists and turns in his bed every night, his mind can never be at peace, not even whilst he is sleeping. She is forced to sleep on the sofa. She wishes he could just let life flow....
But she loves him. She doesn't mind. All she craves is for him to touch her hair, smell it and kiss it softly. For him to let her lie on his chest, just for a little while. She'll feel warm inside then. She'll feel loved.
What is he fighting?
Life.
How can you fight life? You cannot control it.
It is the sea, dragging you under, washing you up, drowning you, refreshing you. You can gasp above it, hold your breathe below it. Sometimes you feel helpless, but eventually someone will throw you a lifeline. You cannot fight the ocean, it's a being more powerful than us. All of our thoughts and feelings put together couldn't meet the might of the ocean.
We are all predominantly made of the essence of the sea. Water. Simple and clean. Why can't he let himself flow like the water he keeps inside? Don't fight, listen to your heart, not your mind, for that is where the ocean would take you.
Lie in a little boat in the middle of the vast, blue beyond. Rock with the waves of eternity, gently rippling away. Listen to the calming sound of water lapping against the side of your life raft.
And the sky growls, lightning bolts streak across the rumbling mass of dirty clouds. You open your eyes, worried about the path the sea has chosen for you. Cling on to the sides, with both hands, tense your body. Watch as the water rolls in great crests of rising "things that might be" and fall into "things that never were, but could have been". They roll around you. And you shake from the cold and the wet, you shiver. And cling. And tighten your grasp as the "thing that might be" finally comes true, crashes over your little life raft, lurching you off your safety, into the terrible wrath of the aching, moaning ocean. You scream with it's sorrow, trying desperately to hold on. This time you just don't want to watch, so you close your eyes, try to find an escape in the form of a dream.
He folds his eyelids upwards to open his sleepy pupils to the dim light, he hesitates as he does so. His head is still thumping. Ah. The cars are moving. Frustration flows away. His head turns to see his girlfriend, they both pass a fake smile. He drives the car along the lengthy, grey road, in the inflexible way that has been with him for such a long while. She prepares her mind for another night of shunned sleeping. Her shoulder curved away from him, she stares out the window at the stars. They are finally going home. Rejoice. They are finally getting somewhere. Rejoice.
But he knows he's in for another night full of sleeplessness.
And she knows she isn't really getting anywhere, but is stuck in the love which she cannot drag her unappreciated self away from.
But it's a narrow margin, not that far to jump. Happiness is just a leap over that 100 metre wide gorge. Just a short leap. Just....a....short...
.....She lies in the middle of her life raft, holding his chest, swaying with the ways of the tides. He is there. She needs him for life. But as she glances up, his face is a blur. All of his defining features are sunken into the fleshy white. And the sweep of the water around her mind makes her eyes gleam. It dawns on her. It is not him she needs. It is the person who is waiting for her among the shadows, he has not been discovered yet. And so she sighs, she knows what she has to do. All you can see from the distance is a figure clambering off her life raft, beginning the long and difficult journey to that person in the shadows. She treads the water with her limbs.Gazes back at his dull body lying there, she swims away with regret in her heart, but knowing that leaving is the right thing to do.
His boat never had her slender body within it. He was always alone in life. She was only thought to be on his life raft with him because she was beautiful. That is all he ever thought of her. Not even once did it cross his mind that she might be amazingly strong to put up with him for all that time, and find a way to love him. The water is calm now, but he can hear the sky growling over to the west. The sun shines over his ragged, ripped clothes. He is beaten and hurt from the hell that the sea flings at him. He can rest now, but soon the waves will throw him off his rickety wooden path again. He'll hold on, get through it. Just like he always does, but he'll be left with his inflexibility and frustration forever.
She lifts the suitcase over the front door step, she had packed whilst he had been tossing and turning in his bed, stained with the tears of his devilish nighmares. It wouldn't be like he'd miss her. She realised that now. It was time to swim away, away to something new, something that would keep her safe and loved. She would leave him to his anger. And she closed the door behind the mass of his blue ocean...
And the thunder rumbled across the ceiling that was the sky, over his thumping head. He was really alone now...
And he felt it.
Beautiful. :0)
Everyone of us needs our comforts... we all find it in different things. Some in alcohol, some in drugs, give us all our kisses, give us all our hugs.
*reminds self to stop rhyming all the time*
But it's comfort for being who we are, without opening up and being yourself... Hiding away comfort, instead of not actually needing to be comforted, because you're so happy with life and all. I guess just needing to be held is a comfort in itself... even when the love isn't there.
Something Comforting, thingy I wrote the other day... that was all about subsitutes for love, I suppose.
Everyone of us needs our comforts... we all find it in different things. Some in alcohol, some in drugs, give us all our kisses, give us all our hugs.
*reminds self to stop rhyming all the time*
But it's comfort for being who we are, without opening up and being yourself... Hiding away comfort, instead of not actually needing to be comforted, because you're so happy with life and all. I guess just needing to be held is a comfort in itself... even when the love isn't there.
Something Comforting, thingy I wrote the other day... that was all about subsitutes for love, I suppose.
Wow.
Great - The fakeness that seems to become part of our lives is something that really gets me!
And the French Traffic System!!!! ;-)
And the French Traffic System!!!! ;-)
Here's to the man, waiting in his car, frustration and anger running into the creases of his deeply contoured face. He is reaching his hand to the air, grasping, trying to grab hope from somewhere. He clutches the steering wheel, tightly, makes his anger spread among the cold metal and plastic. And from this, he gathers more hatred. His head is thumping.
The girl sits beside him, staring out of the window, pretending she is listening. She can only hear the car shake with his enraged self.
"Mmm" She agrees.
What was she agreeing with? That the French traffic system is outrageous? That the sky will fall from the heavens tomorrow? That life is pointless?
She knows that he is not angry at the traffic, he is infuriated with life itself. The slow pace, the fast pace. The fact that it is never regular. The fact that he might lose her and be alone again. Life is unfair and unfamiliar, he cannot come to terms with it. He twists and turns in his bed every night, his mind can never be at peace, not even whilst he is sleeping. She is forced to sleep on the sofa. She wishes he could just let life flow....
But she loves him. She doesn't mind. All she craves is for him to touch her hair, smell it and kiss it softly. For him to let her lie on his chest, just for a little while. She'll feel warm inside then. She'll feel loved.
What is he fighting?
Life.
How can you fight life? You cannot control it.
It is the sea, dragging you under, washing you up, drowning you, refreshing you. You can gasp above it, hold your breathe below it. Sometimes you feel helpless, but eventually someone will throw you a lifeline. You cannot fight the ocean, it's a being more powerful than us. All of our thoughts and feelings put together couldn't meet the might of the ocean.
We are all predominantly made of the essence of the sea. Water. Simple and clean. Why can't he let himself flow like the water he keeps inside? Don't fight, listen to your heart, not your mind, for that is where the ocean would take you.
Lie in a little boat in the middle of the vast, blue beyond. Rock with the waves of eternity, gently rippling away. Listen to the calming sound of water lapping against the side of your life raft.
And the sky growls, lightning bolts streak across the rumbling mass of dirty clouds. You open your eyes, worried about the path the sea has chosen for you. Cling on to the sides, with both hands, tense your body. Watch as the water rolls in great crests of rising "things that might be" and fall into "things that never were, but could have been". They roll around you. And you shake from the cold and the wet, you shiver. And cling. And tighten your grasp as the "thing that might be" finally comes true, crashes over your little life raft, lurching you off your safety, into the terrible wrath of the aching, moaning ocean. You scream with it's sorrow, trying desperately to hold on. This time you just don't want to watch, so you close your eyes, try to find an escape in the form of a dream.
He folds his eyelids upwards to open his sleepy pupils to the dim light, he hesitates as he does so. His head is still thumping. Ah. The cars are moving. Frustration flows away. His head turns to see his girlfriend, they both pass a fake smile. He drives the car along the lengthy, grey road, in the inflexible way that has been with him for such a long while. She prepares her mind for another night of shunned sleeping. Her shoulder curved away from him, she stares out the window at the stars. They are finally going home. Rejoice. They are finally getting somewhere. Rejoice.
But he knows he's in for another night full of sleeplessness.
And she knows she isn't really getting anywhere, but is stuck in the love which she cannot drag her unappreciated self away from.
But it's a narrow margin, not that far to jump. Happiness is just a leap over that 100 metre wide gorge. Just a short leap. Just....a....short...
.....She lies in the middle of her life raft, holding his chest, swaying with the ways of the tides. He is there. She needs him for life. But as she glances up, his face is a blur. All of his defining features are sunken into the fleshy white. And the sweep of the water around her mind makes her eyes gleam. It dawns on her. It is not him she needs. It is the person who is waiting for her among the shadows, he has not been discovered yet. And so she sighs, she knows what she has to do. All you can see from the distance is a figure clambering off her life raft, beginning the long and difficult journey to that person in the shadows. She treads the water with her limbs.Gazes back at his dull body lying there, she swims away with regret in her heart, but knowing that leaving is the right thing to do.
His boat never had her slender body within it. He was always alone in life. She was only thought to be on his life raft with him because she was beautiful. That is all he ever thought of her. Not even once did it cross his mind that she might be amazingly strong to put up with him for all that time, and find a way to love him. The water is calm now, but he can hear the sky growling over to the west. The sun shines over his ragged, ripped clothes. He is beaten and hurt from the hell that the sea flings at him. He can rest now, but soon the waves will throw him off his rickety wooden path again. He'll hold on, get through it. Just like he always does, but he'll be left with his inflexibility and frustration forever.
She lifts the suitcase over the front door step, she had packed whilst he had been tossing and turning in his bed, stained with the tears of his devilish nighmares. It wouldn't be like he'd miss her. She realised that now. It was time to swim away, away to something new, something that would keep her safe and loved. She would leave him to his anger. And she closed the door behind the mass of his blue ocean...
And the thunder rumbled across the ceiling that was the sky, over his thumping head. He was really alone now...
And he felt it.
The girl sits beside him, staring out of the window, pretending she is listening. She can only hear the car shake with his enraged self.
"Mmm" She agrees.
What was she agreeing with? That the French traffic system is outrageous? That the sky will fall from the heavens tomorrow? That life is pointless?
She knows that he is not angry at the traffic, he is infuriated with life itself. The slow pace, the fast pace. The fact that it is never regular. The fact that he might lose her and be alone again. Life is unfair and unfamiliar, he cannot come to terms with it. He twists and turns in his bed every night, his mind can never be at peace, not even whilst he is sleeping. She is forced to sleep on the sofa. She wishes he could just let life flow....
But she loves him. She doesn't mind. All she craves is for him to touch her hair, smell it and kiss it softly. For him to let her lie on his chest, just for a little while. She'll feel warm inside then. She'll feel loved.
What is he fighting?
Life.
How can you fight life? You cannot control it.
It is the sea, dragging you under, washing you up, drowning you, refreshing you. You can gasp above it, hold your breathe below it. Sometimes you feel helpless, but eventually someone will throw you a lifeline. You cannot fight the ocean, it's a being more powerful than us. All of our thoughts and feelings put together couldn't meet the might of the ocean.
We are all predominantly made of the essence of the sea. Water. Simple and clean. Why can't he let himself flow like the water he keeps inside? Don't fight, listen to your heart, not your mind, for that is where the ocean would take you.
Lie in a little boat in the middle of the vast, blue beyond. Rock with the waves of eternity, gently rippling away. Listen to the calming sound of water lapping against the side of your life raft.
And the sky growls, lightning bolts streak across the rumbling mass of dirty clouds. You open your eyes, worried about the path the sea has chosen for you. Cling on to the sides, with both hands, tense your body. Watch as the water rolls in great crests of rising "things that might be" and fall into "things that never were, but could have been". They roll around you. And you shake from the cold and the wet, you shiver. And cling. And tighten your grasp as the "thing that might be" finally comes true, crashes over your little life raft, lurching you off your safety, into the terrible wrath of the aching, moaning ocean. You scream with it's sorrow, trying desperately to hold on. This time you just don't want to watch, so you close your eyes, try to find an escape in the form of a dream.
He folds his eyelids upwards to open his sleepy pupils to the dim light, he hesitates as he does so. His head is still thumping. Ah. The cars are moving. Frustration flows away. His head turns to see his girlfriend, they both pass a fake smile. He drives the car along the lengthy, grey road, in the inflexible way that has been with him for such a long while. She prepares her mind for another night of shunned sleeping. Her shoulder curved away from him, she stares out the window at the stars. They are finally going home. Rejoice. They are finally getting somewhere. Rejoice.
But he knows he's in for another night full of sleeplessness.
And she knows she isn't really getting anywhere, but is stuck in the love which she cannot drag her unappreciated self away from.
But it's a narrow margin, not that far to jump. Happiness is just a leap over that 100 metre wide gorge. Just a short leap. Just....a....short...
.....She lies in the middle of her life raft, holding his chest, swaying with the ways of the tides. He is there. She needs him for life. But as she glances up, his face is a blur. All of his defining features are sunken into the fleshy white. And the sweep of the water around her mind makes her eyes gleam. It dawns on her. It is not him she needs. It is the person who is waiting for her among the shadows, he has not been discovered yet. And so she sighs, she knows what she has to do. All you can see from the distance is a figure clambering off her life raft, beginning the long and difficult journey to that person in the shadows. She treads the water with her limbs.Gazes back at his dull body lying there, she swims away with regret in her heart, but knowing that leaving is the right thing to do.
His boat never had her slender body within it. He was always alone in life. She was only thought to be on his life raft with him because she was beautiful. That is all he ever thought of her. Not even once did it cross his mind that she might be amazingly strong to put up with him for all that time, and find a way to love him. The water is calm now, but he can hear the sky growling over to the west. The sun shines over his ragged, ripped clothes. He is beaten and hurt from the hell that the sea flings at him. He can rest now, but soon the waves will throw him off his rickety wooden path again. He'll hold on, get through it. Just like he always does, but he'll be left with his inflexibility and frustration forever.
She lifts the suitcase over the front door step, she had packed whilst he had been tossing and turning in his bed, stained with the tears of his devilish nighmares. It wouldn't be like he'd miss her. She realised that now. It was time to swim away, away to something new, something that would keep her safe and loved. She would leave him to his anger. And she closed the door behind the mass of his blue ocean...
And the thunder rumbled across the ceiling that was the sky, over his thumping head. He was really alone now...
And he felt it.