Detailing a lover's quest:

To know that you will never be as valued as another person is a difficult concept to grasp. Although, on the one hand your body as human and alive wishes to be part of something and wrapped up in someone so tightly your eyes bulge a little and your lips bleed, when your feet are hovering over the ground and you’re trying hoarsely to croak air into your lungs. On the other hand, your mind functions and malfunctions in a different way – hoping and striving for independence and self-sufficiency, wanting what you want and only to be happy, hedonistic, fruitful. This plane we live on is existence but it conflicts with the non-existence we so desperately desire; conflicts with the then and the now, the wanting or not wanting, the decision to make a decision and act upon the decision. When you’re finding these love cards, photographs and someone is calling you by another’s name, the non-existence seems familiar and close – a plane lying just inches away from your fingertips and one that your mind sees when you look in the mirror and you can’t put on a smile. To ache in this way is a definitive two fingers up at the decision – there is none here, as nothing is to be done to change the image you see in the mirror. I know that there will never be another her, that to try and be her is pointless and ever-lasting naivety and is only reflected back into someone else’s face. This is the existence, reality that stretches into absurdity.
When you are of the ilk of possession, and you cannot afford to see a lover lost from yourself into another plane – you are fucked. The reality doesn’t work hard enough to be bended or moulded to your satisfaction. Alright! I know you’re saying that forever is forever is forever and that you’re seeing houses and moving and love that lasts for years. We all see it now, you will never be as valued as that other person, never be as valued as they themselves and you know that this person wants a want that is not acquainted with yourself. To know what it means to be second best sums up reality, stretches it into absurdity and beyond – you can only watch as it eats up your long limbs; it starts with your body and callously leaves your mind behind to piece together all the gory details.

Stumble in Tandem

There was a glowing red splitting down the middle of the curtains, like a torch held to closed fingertips. The heat was all around our bodies and inescapable. I could feel the sweat on Holly's body. Or maybe it was on my palms. Either way I needed to get out of bed. I liked the early mornings anyway. If I woke too late, I always felt like a visitor to that day. It had been created without me and I was just tagging along. But today I rose with the sun and I feel as though, in some small way, I have helped create it. Outside, the sun splits the tree leaves that hang limply on their branches, the clouds are somewhere else - all gathered together above Fenworth, like a crowd of bullies hovering over their victim - the streets are alight with purpose as though today there is a celebration to be had; a carnival to be held; a race to be won. I have had a head start with my early eyes of the morning. I draw the curtains, pouring in the light to Holly's body, inviting her to join me.

Tosser bastards

My good memory for faces is bruised
Tosser bastards have large fists
And deliver heavy punches
I fear the next blow will knock me the fuck out
I will never recover
And my good memory will record nothing but the
shape and weight of hands and wrists
Soon they'll clutch my throat

Tosser bastards have bad memories
Too easily they forget, and change
But maybe I'll learn how to box
Myself
I'll put up my hands and defend my face
My good memory for faces will prevail

Tosser bastards will lose the toss and gain married parents.

-Trish