Perpetuity

Riddle me this 

Why do we fight?

Though we know how 

To make this right. 

After all this time 

We're still treading 

The same tired circles

While pain keeps spreading

These silences a never-ending 

Soliloquy. 

But,

My ears are tired. 

ECHOES DOWN MEMORY LANE.

ECHOES DOWN MEMORY LANE.

She'd been here before. Her feet tentatively stepped on the faded grey metal of the run of the raised platform. Wind howling in the distance lifted the dried leaves and send them swirling in a flurry towards her. 

"You won't remember me but I'll always remember you."

The image of a face, open and loving, flashed in her mind. The very sight of him sent a jolt of emotions surging through her. Every cell in her being ached with a fierce longing and sense of rising frustration. 

This wasn't the first time Alice had seen this person and heard this disembodied voice. Lately they had been bombarding her frequently, not content to just stalking her dreams but stealing into her waking moments as well and causing her constant torment. She felt as if she was constantly on the brink of remembering something incredibly crucial but like trying to trap air, the minute she tried to hold on to that fragment of a memory, it slipped through her desperate grasp. 

I need to remember. 

I carry the weight of you in my heavy heart. 

Her head ached from her perpetual combing of her shattered memory, there were so many holes and blank spaces that she couldn't help but think that she had been tampered with. Surely feelings this strong couldn't be a mere figment of her overactive imagination. Right? 

Crouching down, she ran shaking fingers over the tarnished, dull metal. Fingers stirring up the dust that had settled there, she bent over it, tears running their smooth course down her pale cheeks. For some unknown reason she felt this press of sadness and the inexplicable burden of emotions she tried so hard to suppress overflowed and spilled out in a rush. Everyday she would return to this place to try to unravel the mystery only to find herself slowly unraveling, tearing at the seams. 

It had all begun a month ago. 

It started with the dreams.

First, every now and then she would get images of places she'd never been to. And then the unknown faces and the voices had started to plague her dreams. Then before she knew it they had stole into her waking moments and she felt as if she was being haunted by memories she never had. Which was too much of a joke for her to divulge to anyone what had been happening. Who would believe her anyway? 

And then somehow she had found her way to this field guided by the multiple flashbacks, she had finally pieced together one bit of the mystery and now here she was. 

The question remained, exactly where was 'here'. 

The result of her incessant puzzling had brought her to this field surrounded by a foreboding copse of trees where a large, really odd and suspicious, platform nestled in the middle of the long stalks of pale green grass. There she sat feeling slightly idiotic. A real sight, crouched over the metal rim of the raised circle, tears streaming from her dark blue eyes, her long black locks a mess around her pale face. 

What had she gotten herself into this time? 

Air-conditioners

Freeze 

Cold air 

Frozen

Cold air

Silence. 

Futility.

When you try your best but you don't succeed. 

11:11 wish me another me

11:11

If wishes truly are granted 

Drowning these voices 

Is all I've ever wanted 

11:15

Sprinting in circles towards the edge of a cliff where free falling in mid air makes more sense than being the bandage to your unmarked skin where perfection is you incarnated and I was only ever a smear on the crystal clear glass of shops that line the streets where the roses strut their exuberance. Interacting with you is playing with fire but maybe even after all this time I like the way you simmer on my skin and the burns you leave behind are the only ways I know how to live my life because it's only always ever been pain and more pain. It's a circle a mean cycle, second best is just something forget-me-nots have to live with because the only way they are remembered is because they are a symbol of things not wanting to be forgotten. Because if nobody really remembers you did you ever really exist? 

11:28

The light from the moon shine through the windows painting a runway of yellow on the wall like the voices in my heart begging you to come back home. When people break like glass and the shards you tread on don’t leave a mark, indicating that drunken brawls bring out what you thought was the best that I couldn’t bear and the sirens are calling again as your feet mimic the speed of a racing car speeding on the road going to nowhere and yet I feel safe and comforted in your presence just like how a leaves on a tree in the strong wind shake and shudder and know that they are dangling by a thread. Looking into your eyes is as if staring down a microscope and wondering how such a specimen came to exist, playing games with never ending processes, writing stories that never end because it’s been made true by your existence, that stories with happy endings are ones that haven’t ended yet but I’m tired and I don’t want to play anymore it’s time for Wendy to leave Neverland and grow up but Peter you never will.