There’s a Time and a Place…

The stones cast upon my grave mark sorrow in such greyness that it is long before I can understand that each stone is marked with love.My grave is grey in front of me a deep sorrowful dullness that I didn’t ever consider before the colours that I had wanted were replaced.

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 and with the words that follow, I hope you will forgive my indulgence…

I found a voice when those eyes stared intently into mine/ granted i melted forcing my weak legs to stand around you/ without wanting to reach out and hold onto the perfect skin/ that almost vanished under my touch so pefectly pure/ i swear that those eyes are creations of centuries/ not of a human kind set on being with me. I wonder sometimes how it is that this world works/ spiraling into something of a circle for me to / get lost in the never ending lines and/ then your eyes catch mine and its all i can do/ to breathe and not blush deep red look away/ from you to catch those eyes when i look back/ its a wonder perhaps the 8th that you’re here.

She could walk that road for as long as it lasted
 the square inches in front of her kept repeating
before her eyes she could only concentrate on that
not let the surroundings enter her vision until it was too late
the road had ended before she’d decided to turn around
face the world head on eyes strong into the facing
opposition of a life she didn’t understand those people she needed
hidden by people that she didn’t need that she didn’t want
she turned off the constant road just before it turned
she saw something new and wondered what it could bring.

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the gentle dawn lights hit the room stirring one of the occupants just enough so that she could turn over, shifting her weight to her hip and gaze over the person lying fast asleep beside her. Each morning there was something new to gaze upon, in that half lighted daze of her first attempt at the day. She could always find a way of getting back to sleep, but she relished the few minutes of watching her bedfellow sleep, they seemed to be somewhere peaceful and happy, unknowingly looking more and more beautiful, each time their eyes fluttered, each time a little breath escaped their mouth. And with that she curled her arm around her partner and nestled her head into the small space that she had occupied when they drifted to sleep the night before.

Her Face

I can’t even remember her name it is just

A face though even that is through the

Resemblance we search in other for.

It is more years than my life and I don’t

Even think that I try to create a soul into

My mind it is beyond my life and that still

Echoes vacantly inside my mind I found too

Much in this life to fill it before I can begin to

Consider lives before mine even if the blood

They see in my face is that of hers before.

April 8^th 2006

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Those eyes 

Those eyes bore into me as if my world had

Been turned over and over spiralled into a

Motion of continuing deep breath’s and sighs

Into mouths and those eyes dear god those

Eyes bearing onto mine like it was the beginning

Nigh the end of the world before us like each

Movement each turn of the world was destined

To create beckoning to a new world, our world.

April 8^th 2006

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Darkness - Creative Non-Fiction 

I find this darkness to hard to bear sometimes and it drags me into nothing and then there is everything within me again and I wonder why I could not pull myself out of it all before. I guess that darkness begins to take over me and it is that cloud that masks everything not the feelings that I have but that great dark nothing that even covers the sun sometimes so my body wants it always to be night for it to always be the time when I can sleep.

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She can’t even remember when the walls had gotten so close that she couldn’t breathe any more, restricted all around her so much that she can’t even see the door that she came through.

She’d wondered how concrete could be created, surely that person knew that it would be used to drown those that couldn’t cope, to suffocate the lives of those that just didn’t fit into the small spaces that the world had created for them.

she’s so confused that the writing on the wall doesn’t even seem to be her’s even though the pen in her hand is leaking the same colour onto her own skin that is sliced in thick angles across the whole of the whiteness in front of her.

she can’t find the air to scream.

she can’t find the space to move.

she can’t find the words to ask for saving.

It’s funny sometimes how the world can keep every part of you apart for so long that you forgot who exactly you are when you are a whole person, you feel that a little bit over there, a thought or persona over there, and a little with you can’t change you too much, but when it all comes together, as it does sometimes, you realise who exactly you are…This shocked me, but in a good way.

For me, it seems to take someone else telling me for me to realise there are a few good qualities about me, for a long time before now I didn’t feel I had any, but even after I accepted myself, and got to even like myself, I still can’t quite see everything you see, is this a normal thing? I start to wonder sometimes, if Im sane at all…or do I just question myself too much and therefore can’t ever find an answer….

This is my way of answering things, but not through me, just my words, this is where the world becomes words in lines, whether they be about true events or not, and hopefully, some of those words will answer questions I have, and questions you have….afterall isn’t a blog the new voice into the abyss of the world?

Miranda Ragydoll