Monday, May 23, 2011

May 2011


She lay at the edge of the Pacific Ocean, the largest water body on the planet. Wave after wave crashed on her, and carried her away. It was not consciousness she drifted from, but monotony, the constant nagging awareness of the everyday. The warmth of the sun's rays washed over her naked body, carressing her with great tenderness, and, little by little, she was carried away.

Sometimes, when this happened, it was difficult for her to venture back into the world she'd fought so hard to gain some semblance of control of. It was difficult, because having gained this control, all she wanted, really, was to drift away from it - back into a realm where control was not an issue, not something she needed to possess. There was something in the flow of the ocean's waves, something in the lack of surety of being touched and tempted by the grand, unknown quantity of the largest ocean on planet Earth, that was addictive.


She didn't know how to let go of the pleasure it brought her to, so brutally primal. So infinitely out of control in a place where she had no reason, no ability, and was no longer a mass of thoughts and jumbled horrors, so much as she just was...

...a passing, fleeting notion, beautiful and complete in the transcience of her own existence.

March, 2011

Little Boxes

By the end of this, she will be very good
at putting little things into little boxes.
She will know how to erase wayward lines
so precisely that the process does not
disturb those little things in the little boxes,
and what to do when the tiny lines begin to
struggle against the logical entrapment.
She will know how to rigorously control
and to feel proud for it,
the lack of chaotic squiggles, the absence of colour,
and letters that look exactly like one another.

November 2010

Things With Boundaries

The things in her room all had boundaries.
The pictures were all framed, the woodwork
painted a firm brown that contradicted boldly
the light cream of the rest of the room.
She made sure the cushions were a dull white,
so that that frame of the bed could stand out.
Even the edges of the wardrobe seemed more
angular than normal.
It was as though a child had been scolded into colouring
strictly between the lines and nowhere beyond.