“Hairstyles of the Dead and the Restless”
That was the title / idea of a prose piece that surfaced this morning after seeing Good Charlotte on the telly. There was going to be a bit of Trump in there, a few red-necks and a Wall Street sign post. But after realising that no further inspiration whatsoever came to me, I abandoned the idea.
Picture yourself having an accident, falling down the stairs let’s say. You break a few bones, arms and legs and dislocate a few fingers.
Now picture yourself not getting any help with your injuries. You lie in bed for a couple of months while you wait for the broken bones to heal and eventually you feel strong enough to get out of bed. Your legs aren’t as steady as they used to be, nor are they straight and your arms, well they could put a smile on any scarecrow.
As you make your way down the stairs you stumble and fall head first into the hallway. This cracks your scull and gives you temporary memory loss and a strange hissing sound in your ears. You are yet again facing recovery in your bed without any professional support, the cracked scull could have used a few stitches.
Some time later you decide that you want to leave your bed as you are feeling so much better and as there is no-one to stop you from getting up you eventually reach the stair again… SO YOU MANAGE TO FALL DOWN THE F* STAIR AGAIN. Breaking arms and legs in multiple places. Sigh. Back to bed again…
Now picture yourself in front of a mirror many months later, seeing yourself with disfigured arms and legs, fingers pointing in all directions.
Physical injuries upon physical injuries has created a monster, someone you hardly cannot recognise. If only you had received support along they way in straightening out those arms and legs and fingers too, that would have made all the difference.
You realise then for the first time that internal injuries, mental health issues that are recurring and left to heal themselves might also lead to monsters being created, the only difference is the lack of visual signs. You find yourself wondering why physical and mental health are not equally valued in our healthcare system. You feel the rage building inside.
They came in sets of four,
the harbingers of death,
from each corner of the void,
their mantra reverberated,
murmurs of old;
scattered through the realm.
They came in sets of four,
and left none to record the
wind; the storm of ruin
foretold
the knights in black; passion of stallions crucified; prancing gods overturning the dawn; the fists rising; guttural reverberating overtones; the iron men – acolytes of past tense, emerging
My mortal Sin
Breathing
Down my neck pearls of sweat
Dripping
Cold;
Wet air
Arrows shot in tandem;
Cupid in error
Embrace me
Solely
Rubber gloves
Mandatory
Maybe one day I will go to uni, maybe one day later I will feel adequate, maybe years later I will understand my purpose, here on earth.
another night on Tumblr spent
YESTERDAY asleep in bed
no sunlight seen
no fresh air felt
spiralling downwards fast
as the corkscrew anew
no regrets
no punishment
sticks
no worries
only sorrows