Spaceships over Glasgow.

In my dreams, I used to talk with her like I would in real life. She would respond with a smile and I was happy with this life. Slowly as time moved on, I stopped seeing her and yet I still had dreams of her. In these dreams she was still with me, but no longer responding. No longer smiling.

Now she just sits there without responding to anything. She has become little more than a human mannequin. Reacting to nothing.

Please wake up.

There is no justice

But there is

Just you

&

Just me.

I danced with my hot hands against your cold

Just a sideways glance

I could feel you looking at someone else

That night you broke my heart

Don’t worry I won’t talk to you again

I couldn’t ever call you again

Because even once was too much

And three was suicide

When you left me here

You left me here to die.

I somehow tripped and smashed my jaw into the corner of the washer. My jaw crumpled in as it hit the corner assuming the machine’s shape into its newly adapted architecture. I tried to yell as loud as I could but my jaw wouldn’t move and instead I only moaned in pain. I could feel blood slowly drip down my body trying to comfort me. I finally hear footsteps in the hall coming towards the room I was dying in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my grandfather illuminated my the fluorescent light of the hallway and I moan once more. I try to move but it feels like I’m still stuck on that corner. He says that it’s too late to do anything about me and walks away. In the world where I’m supposed to succeed, instead I black out forever.

Silent revolutions all the time change the world around me.

Time to let my dreams say a big Fuck You to reality.

There is a large group of us running away and as we turn around a bend in the road, I look behind me and watch a man get shot from behind. I hesitate for a moment and consider saving him but I don’t. Instead, I take a picture of him as he slowly falls to the ground. I keep running with the few remaining people still alive and for a minute or two, I’m running for my life. I run into the first corridor I can find and try to grab as much garbage thrown around onto me so it’s harder for them to see me. I hear footsteps slowly walking by with men laughing stupidly as if this was all a game. Among all that horrible garbage, I was shivering for my life.

It was wartime. I’m sure that I remember some snow falling pleasantly around me.

I’m sitting in a cramped bus and the air is so thick that I can hardly breathe. There are people next to me, in the centre aisle, on top of the bus and there are even some hanging on to the back. All I can smell is rust and sweat and it makes me want to puke out my empty stomach. Sitting next to a window, I look outside into the cold, wet world and its raining so hard that I can’t even see a few metres out. What I do see is people walking the streets with just some simple clothes on. As if the rain isn’t even there. Mud is the next most dominating feature of this place. Its everywhere.

At first we go through a platform that is window height and we slow down as we pass through it. I see a man sitting on the platfrom handing out bread to all the passengers. So as the bus slowly moves forward, all the windows anxiously open for him. When it’s my turn, he takes a bite out of my bread first and then hands it to me. I notice that he does this with everyone. I take a few chunks from the otherside and hand the rest to my neighbour. We keep going until we’ve passed through the platform and everybody has had their fair share of bread. We drive on for a little while longer with the bus swaying back and forth almost tipping over on a few occasions. I can tell that the bus is slowing down… probably because we’ve arrived in some town and there is too much traffic to go any further. I get restless and need to find a way out of the bus so I look around me and there is absolutely no space to even try a conventional exit. The only escape route I can think of is the window and not caring about if I’ll fit or not, I grab my bag and find a way to squeeze out. I walk ahead of my colourful bus and we’re at a junction just packed with people and vehicles of every type. The vehicles can’t move any further because they’ve come in from every angle. They are now perfectly fit pieces in a very large puzzle. Walking on, I remember the pouring rain and it feels great on my bare skin. I walk by shops and people and just then realise that I’m in what is probably South or South East Asia.

I watch people go about their lives and to them, I don’t even exist. It wouldn’t make a difference to them if I were alive or not. What an amazing thought! Then to the right, I find a little four or five story building maybe two or three metres wide. I notice that the first floor is a foot above ground level. On it there are maybe four people sitting around a table. They must be having dinner about now. The rain is as strong as ever and I walk up slowly to the building and it has no walls. Just platforms and stairs connecting the different levels. They looked perfect sitting there on the floor around that one low table. So simple and yet so perfect! I finally take out my camera and take a picture.

I don’t want to be there when they’re seeing eachother for the last time. Those final moments that you cling onto forever. To have known him for so long and to accept him. And for him, she was always his favourite of the two. That last hug and those last tears. To make that last bit of eye contact into those weightless milky eyes. To touch him before being forced to leave and then to cry all the way to the airport. For him to know that it’s all coming to an end.

Life works in beautiful ways.

The frozen white landscape was covered with giant iceballs that could be seen for thousands of miles. All of them were cut perfectly in half with ancient trees perfectly preserved as if they were still alive. Walking by them, I examined these giant iceballs. They were as tall as buildings and the leaves on the branches were still green as if they were not only surviving, but thriving. I walked among them as if they were people on a busy street all frozen in time.

Getting onto the bus I sit at the first empty seat I can find and start looking outside, through a fogged up window that makes seeing anything almost impossible. It looks like it’s about to rain. I’ve completely turned myself towards the window when I feel someones hands on both of my shoulders. I take the hands and without talking, I know who it is. Her hands feel like clouds that I could fall right through. I’ve missed her. We still have a while until the bus leaves so we decide to go outside into the cold night. I can see my breath float away like a lonely ghost as we walk the path lining the old shops with all their warm lights inviting us in. When we get back to the bus, she asks me why I’m not talking to her properly and I don’t know how to respond. I still don’t know.

Enjoy everything that ever happens to you, forever.

I could hear the them ease onto the rocky earth, and at night, it’s lull always helped me sleep. Sometimes I even thought that it was speaking with me. Trying to communicate a message from places lost in time. A message in a bottle.

Dear Ms. Evening,

I think I’m addicted to cherry flavoured Fisherman’s Friends and lime flavoured Tums.

I came home drunk last night and forced myself to throw up. I loved the clean feeling I got afterwards.

The drugs I take make everyone look beautiful. They make the world perfect again. The way it was supposed to be from the start.

When people start talking about how they feel, be it a friend or a friend that I can’t stand, I just think about how weak we all are. It’s great that nobody can hear my thoughts.

Power feels great, have you ever felt it?

…& all these are lies. Except for the first and last one. Although maybe there is truth behind a few of the others? Anyways,

Looking forward to the reply.

Mysteriously (slutty),

Mr. Beast

To Mr. Beast,

I never thought about that. Then again, I never think about anything. It’s probably just teen crap that everybody goes through at some point. I don’t care enough about your good side so tell me the bad things about you. They end up saying more about a person than anything else. Now tell me about yourself, you mysterious slut!

Tell me!

Still calling you a slut in her mind,

Ms. Evening.

Just bought a Norwegian second skin today that’ll keep me warm up until -30°… not too shabby. I’m now in the process of getting ready for a trip tomorrow and we’re leaving at 0600 and I still haven’t gotten all my camera equipment ready. Not good. I also no longer have a working body clock… I can wake up when I want and sleep when I want without ever getting tired. My body isn’t used to it fully just yet but when gets into the flow of things, it’ll feel great (like it always does).

Good times ahead?