What was is no longer and so never was.

Three.
What was. What is. What must be.


Some can live all.

I can only live one.
What is.

Don't make what was more than it is.

What was is is, but if it is no longer, then now it never was.

Don't make me a monster. The one who spews poison and fire at your very soul.

A monster can love. Just cannot feel the love it felt once upon a time.

It is a vague memory, bitter to reminiscence.

Bitter to the once precious gold, now decayed and mouldy.

It was a one way with only one destination. One does not regret a path they journeyed with joy and happiness.



I must go at once. Or be engulfed in this coming storm.

But be assured, I have yet to say all. But know this:
I am just a monster.
What is left behind on the contrary, is what it wanted to give to the world.

It's over.

Been thinking,

Now you're gone,

You won't be there to hold my hand.

I don't know,

How I'll come,

Without you there to help me stand.

When I'm forced to feel this pain,

I hope you know who is to blame.

When you left me all alone,

I learnt to make it on my own.

Know it's true,

When I say:

Thank you for everything you do.

But now you

Have hurt me

I'll hate you like you hate me too.

Celestial Blue that shineth from within.

She wore rose pink jeans. Rose pink jeans are not unusual. Many people wear rose pink jeans.

But her rose pink jeans were different. They were rose pink from within.

They shone with a rose pink so pure, it could have conquered all other colours.

For in those rose pink jeans, every colour could be found.

She wore a mustard yellow cardigan. Mustard yellow cardigans are not unusual. Many people wear mustard yellow cardigans.

But her mustard yellow cardigan was different. It was mustard yellow from within.

It shone with a mustard yellow so pure, it could have conquered all other colours.

For in that mustard yellow cardigan, every colour could be found.

In her rose pink jeans and mustard yellow cardigan, people saw the colours.

So they sucked them out and made her rose pink jeans and mustard yellow cardigan the colour of nothing.

But even in nothingness, every colour can be found.

Dreamers

Together, we were Dreamers. Together, we could have closed our eyes against the current of human ignorance, and stood, alone and aloof, watching as they suffocated under their own stupidity. We dreamed that we, and we alone, could make the world a better place, that under our rule, it could rise up and be strong once more. We were going to be the beacon that shone through the galaxies, lighting the way for passing stars, we were going to be the hope that kept the universe going. We were going to be greater than God himself.

Popcorn

"Pardon?"

And she repeats the question. I open my mouth to answer just as I had practised hundreds of times the night before. But no thoughts are forming.

I can feel my body almost radiating the desperation of my ballooning panic. I'm a minuscule clay man figure inside my own huge, useless brain, mindlessly trying to grasp at something. At anything. I nearly snigger.

This reminds me of something actually. Popcorn. A tiny little secretly brooding corn was triggered to explosion and the insubstantial puff dominated every corner of my brain, squashing all coherent thoughts into indecipherably compressed, perhaps into the equivalent of computer zip files.

And she repeats the question. Again.

Fighting the impending doom of crushing failure, I try again. No, I am suddenly fixated on the previously envisioned fluffy white puff. I never did like popcorn.

One word presents itself clamorously, defying the dense puff.
"Canard".
Duck.



Duck.


Duck.

It's too late by the time I've realised I've just murmured the word out aloud.

Now it's her turn to ask,
"Pardon?"

Untouched by Time.

The old man was proud of his wrinkles. He would have been so even if it hadn't been his philosophy to make the most of what he had. To him, his wrinkled and pitted face was not a hindrance, not a thing to be ashamed of, but a record of his life. He wore his past like a map on his face, a map that all could see and follow. Each line marked a moment, of happiness or sadness, joy or worry. Each line was a sentence, on a face that could be read like a book. The crinkles at the corners of the mouth, the light in those eyes, remnants of a long ago youth, when the fire in his blood had burned bright and strong, chasing him away from his childhood haunts and responding to the siren call of faraway lands, people and places. That fire had driven him recklessly through life, motoring him down long and winding paths, barely heeding the damage it suffered, and caused. His travels could be seen on his face, his hurt, pain, and anger read in the depths of those bottomless eyes, that truly were, in his case, a window to the soul. But, nonetheless, he was proud of his face. And he was proud of his life.

Few are able to claim as much.

Dad.

Could today be the day she doesn't upset her dad?I think not.

She makes sure her morning does not involve her dad in any way possible.

No dad means no problems and this day has to be perfect.

So with everything sorted to her dad's liking she waits in the car for him.

Hoping nothing could ruin this perfect morning, he starts the engine.

She sits and hopes. Nothing is said and the radio is turned on.

The journey begins and so far so good.

Gentle banter is exchanged until he pulls up into the car park.

She gets off, takes her bags, shuts the door and turns to wave. He smiles.

Morning over and all seems well.

Today could be the day.

School.

Friends.

Bloody assemblies.

Teachers.

Bus.

Jokes.

Train.

Home.

She gets dressed for her party. She's happy. Today could go well after all.

She gets in the car and talks with her dad, tells him excitedly about this party !

He laughs at her enthusiasm. Today is going to be great she says to herself.

She gets out of the car, kisses her dad, says thank you and goodbye.

She shuts the door and turns to wave and gets another smile!

Today is going be very good she says to herself!

Party.

Joke.

Laugh.

Chat.

Rave.

Party over.

She calls her dad, giddy with how good this day has gone.

He pulls up and she sees him.

She starts to walk towards the car as she waves and he smiles.

This day has gone very well she thinks.

But then, she is stopped, right in front of the car, in full view of her dad.

Aaron says she forgot her phone, she takes the phone and thanks him dearly.

She looks at her dad hoping he hasn't realised she nearly lost her phone,

because that would mean this day would end in disaster.

It looks hopeful yet doubtful, she nearly lost her phone, what awaits her in the car?

She turns to get in the car and Aaron says, not even a hug in thanks then?

And.

Without thinking she hugs him. Briefly that is.

And as her hands touch his body in the friendliest way possible she remembers her father is watching, and she thinks:

Shit. So close..