Works (in-progress)

11/07/17

twenty-third day, eighth month

Chapter One

For most people the twenty-third day of the eighth month passed by in an inconsequential blur. People woke up, eyes bleary against the sun poking through their curtains, already thinking about the three cups of coffee they needed if they had any chance of making it to work on time. For most people, their main goal for the day was to make it to 5pm without wanting to punch their boss, or getting asked out by the ever persistent Dave from accounting. The circumstances varied, of course. The name might change, but the day did not. It was another day. Comfortable in its monotonous predictability – rise and shine, you beautiful bastards.

For Her, the twenty-third day of the eighth month could never pass in a blur. It was painfully vibrant. From the moment Her makeup covered eyes opened, She could do nothing but think about this date. Which at this point, after six years, She knew was pathetic and ridiculous and monumentally unhealthy. Still though, it always began the same. Her eyes would open, her limbs would stretch, and her mind would wander in bliss for a few magical moments before she remembered, at which point her day was gone. On this day, she did not think about the coffee her body craved the other 364 days of the year at the unholy hour that was 6am. Instead she thought about the cheap bottle of wine on her kitchen counter that was begging to be consumed and purged within quick succession, before she began her arduous trudge to work. With that, she begrudgingly dragged the thin sheet that covered her body from herself, tossing it carelessly to the floor, picked up her dressing gown and made her way to the kitchen.

She shared the small space she called home with two others – David and Liv, who routinely woke up an hour before she did so they had time to go to the gym, a tactic she suspected was employed to curb their serious lack of sexual deviancy. As she blearily walked through the shabby living room she raised a hand in greeting, ignoring their raised eyebrows and heading straight for the wine she’d bought the night previously in resigned preparation. She opened the bottle and took a large swig, relishing the bitter taste as it travelled down her throat. She screwed her eyes shut and lowered the bottle, sighing deeply before raising it to her lips again and taking yet another large gulp. It leaked from her lips and travelled slowly down her chin, a red trail staining her translucent skin before she wiped her face and finally stared resolutely toward her two complacent housemates. They were familiar enough with this specific day to know that drinking red wine at 6.30 in the morning was to be expected. Liv had lived with her for four years and had known her for ten. David was newer, but hanging on the coattails of Liv had had its advantages and he knew not to ask questions or stare too long.

Liv spoke first, “Morning, favourite alcoholic of mine. What’s the plan for today then? Are we dwelling in piteous agony all day or just till the bottle is gone? Also, do you plan on sharing?”. Liv was the only one who spoke to her this way, because she knew she was the only one who could. David, by comparison, seemed to quell in fear as he stood between the two. It was a standoff he both expected and loathed. He stared at the bottle his girlfriend’s best friend clutched between her two small hands, before chancing a glance up and at her pale, withdrawn eyes that were too big for her face. Her face gave nothing away for a terrifying minute, before a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

She hated this day, but she did not hate her friends. She lifted her arm, stretching it toward Liv and tilting the bottle from side to side, an unequivocal invitation. Almost a plea - yes, join me. Help me forget… She knew, however, that Liv would not take it. After all, Liv was now as familiar to this routine and the reason for it as a Jekyll was to Hyde. Liv walked slowly forward, a twin smile upon her face, as she passed her friend and left the room. Liv knew how this day worked. She’d long given up disrupting its disturbing rhythm. It was one day out of the year after all, a vast improvement…As she left David spared one last glance toward the bottle clutching woman before him, before following Liv from the room.

And so she was left, which was how she preferred the mornings on this day, with her bottle and resolution for company.

17/01/17

FEAR

Sweet little girl, swimming to the deep

following a melody,

that lulls her straight to sleep.

No waking dream, but frozen lungs

her body lays quite still.

She cannot scratch or scream or leap.

But stare wide, frozen, upon it all.

Some soundless world she sees -

ravaged in decay

PLEASE! Reprieve, she begs -

through cracks and hollows.

Twisted, fervent agony.

11/01/17

POISON

I feel the weight of it in my skin,

twisting and burning its way through me.

Poisoning my blood so that I might expel it -

let it from me the way a drunkard

releases his own poison.

The smell sour and permanent.

As it pours from my mouth,

black and thick and covered in hate,

I watch, in rapt agony.

My humours out of sync,

what would the good doctor think?

Horror and wonder from me in black invisible gusts.

How I wish I could open my mouth and set it all free.

Push it from my skin, my blood, my dreams.

Watch it careen down an icy slope,

powerless against that force that pushes it.

All blue and black and hopelessness suddenly expelled…

Forced out to roam and ride the screaming wind

But no.

It is stronger than the wind.

It roams only skin, only blood, only dreams.

It is a black stain.

Dirt always leaves its mark.

So let’s not wear white.