Chris

A little bubble on the edge of a big one. 

"Weirdo" the hoards chant at you., "Freak, unnatural, not right." In your head.

Trudging through grey cities, blankly noticing the colour. 

"Where's the point?" you question yourself. "When you love what's meant to be unlovable." 

Betrayed and hot blooded. You were, are, like them, cut, buffed, blonde hair, blue eyes, 

a picture of perfection. You rebuffed enough in the name of knowledge. 

Lusted for protection, for the great black bird to stop hovering over you. 

Swooping down when it sees easy prey, casting them to the deserts, leaving them at sea.

Caged within a cage. Just longing, weeping, looking at freedom like the forbidden fruit. 

"I'm alone." You say to yourself, in the dead of the night. And you walk, just walk. 

Not turning up anymore, not really. You're there but not here.

Black and white in a coloured world. 

Until you walk away. You go to the allies, the backdoors, the abandoned. 

Sit, in a corner, next to rubbish and orange brick wall. Your legs drawn up to you, 

head leaned against your knees. Dyeing the floor blue. 

And then comes Peter. You look up swift, 

Seek his hair, slow your eyes to excite.

Knights, pawns and kings. He saunters in, smiling. Shift. 

Darkness rolls over your board, tinged white. 

You still look up for the dark bird. Is this right? 

Need the key to the cage. Want to be brave. 

Leaving sport. Taking poetry and flight. 

So you speak to him. It's a tidal wave.

Like Apollo's weight gone. Things get on track.  

Meetings in the mists and dates in the dim.  

The bird’s elsewhere, there's a door at the back. 

He sneaks in, through the dark, you smile with him.  
He takes off your clothes, you feel hands swim. 
Looks like Poseidon. It's summer with him.

On a friday night, you've been out, just about, nothing bad, you feel a little mad. 

You had strong stuff, he keeps calling your bluff, you say bye, he's a little shy. 

You kiss, don't want to miss. You're seen, by that girl, who everyone knows. 

There's a flood, the night turns from neon to black. He hugs you, you stay with him. 

Your calendar said no but it was going to happen. He tries to stem the flow from the wound. 

"It'll be alright, trust me, what's the worst that could happen?" 

"You could leave, I could be shunned, I don't wanna be hated." The black bird spotted you, 

round the back of the cage for a quick snog. You should have just shot it. It can't really 

hurt you, up there in the sky. Your legs are intwined, as you stay up all night. Thorns

on your mind. He strokes your arms, doesn’t hit the lights. A fire rages, a new bird is born. 

"Did you hear? Did you know?" A text here and there. "What'd you think? What a waste." 

You find an army waiting, spears are thrown, you take hit after hit. "Is it true?" 

You say… Yes. They're mad, don't turn bad. "Why didn't you say? I would have been happy."

And those who do what you thought... the black bird chases them, of into the fen. 

And you find that you're there, at that final destination, elation, you just had to be patient.

Summer has gone and you still look back. To when you were so secret, why were you that?

The bird was sent down, relinquished its crown, the new one rose, that's right you suppose.

You wander, but this time with friends, and you smile, at what you can add to your pile.

Realities Fantasy

Minus minuets, make me small.

Zero light and tiny sounds,

no smell and little taste. 

Nothing but a privation of feeling. 

Four thirty and still no buzz. 

Fabric and lipstick, you look good. 

The trees for the wood. 

The floor for the sky. 

Music with laughter. 

Tears with kisses and words, 

that stir. Water cascades and 

fireworks. Intoxication. 

Eyes across a dance floor. 

Drinks and taxies. 

Bedsheets and latex. 

Headaches and phone numbers. 

Talk of books and TV, 

who won that thing we both watch? 

Mutual friends and schools. 

Curtains and smashed dishes. 

Awakening, clouds and pillows. 

Dogs barking and people yelling. 

Regret fear envy lust longing sorrow. 

The trudge away, the reality. 

Monsters Under The Bed

Green eyed monsters seem to leap from your eyes every time you look at her. 
What do you want? Her sunset? Her miracle? Her song? 
No. You want what she's got. 
But the moment you board that ship you want to jump over board. 

Hands linger on flesh, caress, barley touch.
Twelve summers, to your thirty one. 
The kicks fly, they arc, but come down. 
Hands swoop, like birds spotting prey. 

Grey, white, a future flashes in front of her eyes. 
A rainbow flows from your very being. 

A lone fly dangles from a web, until the spider comes. 

Liquid Monsters

I watch as you shoot happiness into your arm, 

As you begin to drown in your own euphoria. 

I see it ebb into everything you do. Your life, 

Swallowed by liquid monsters, your undoing 

Is done in front of my eyes. 

Flesh seems to melt of your bones, 

Money becomes fluid and is sucked away, 

People, who used to swarm to you like bee to honey, 

Flee like your fire. Your skin tightens. Eyes darken. 

We don’t get you back, not the one we wanted. 

You die. Or you may as well have.

Dream Diary

So I've been having a lot of crazy dreams lately. And some of them are pretty whack, I don't know where my head comes up with all this stuff. So I thought because there more creative than I am being lately that I'll write my latest one down:

It's set in this massive perfectly round citadel. With a low wall going all the way round the edge, with the city inside being a kind of shanty town of houses. Out from the citadel is nothing but perfect green meadows and in the distance are snow capped mountains. Also running around the edge are train tracks. But they're suspended high above the ground, above the entire city, on high stilts. I'm now somehow on this train which just goes round and round in circles on this track and I report to a woman sitting at a desk behind a ton of boxes with vinyl records in them. I've reported to become a radio DJ and she begins to show me to where i'll be broadcasting from. We move a long the train. Some of the compartment are like normal trains. But others are like sleeper compartment. We get to a bathroom with a massive bathroom, the water tipping to one side all the time cause the train never stops moving. She then slides open a secret panel and we go through a secret passage. We step around a corner and then are in a more run down bathroom, with an old style empty bath. We both stand in the empty bath and hold onto the shower curtain rail. I ask her whats going on and she tell me we're about to travel in time. I look at her confused as the roof opens. The underneath us a giant spring releases and we're propelled into the air. This was where the dream ended.

Hope

A small light penetrates the dark. Lying in bed, trying to sleep, he sees the dim glow. Alcohol, sex, money, drugs, life... Infinity spiraling in front of him are his years. He see’s it for what it is in that moment. And he’s sees it is nothing. Curled up however he feels the force. The uncontrollable unexplainable force that tell us to go on, that there is some sort of purpose. He names in a survival instinct, but really we’re all just scared of the dark. Well no, we’re not scared of the dark, we’re scared of whats in it, or more importantly, whats not in it. 

Lying in bed he sees the small specs of a larger world. He says there’s nothing out there. Life is pointless and all he wants are simple pleasures. He kids himself into believing there is not greater purpose. 

In the darkness he feels the warm embrace of drink, standing idly back as it consumes his body and demons drag it away. In the breaks he feels the solid comfort of money, the small promise of safety and life in simple numbers. In the wilder, insane specs of his existence he feels his being get killed and turn to euphoria in one insane swipe. And then in his slow, monotones life he feels the sweat and pleasure of the human condition. 

But then, he doesn’t see the light, he notices it. He looks upon dawn and decides it’s for him. He kicks the floor and demands it’s his. But as he does it withdraws. He fails, he lives, he dies. 

Exit Wounds

I wander in and out of colours.  

A massive chess boards with red and blue pieces,

Tree’s made of lego and houses made of books. 

I swim in an ocean of oranges juice, 

Walk along talking to my shadow. 

I saunter into darkness. 

A black, knowing smirk looks down on me. 

Dark haunted eyes watch me turn in fear, 

But behind me no longer exists. 

I see flashing lights, red triangles and bright orange. 

Then darkness, then I fall, then reality restores. 

Black, White and Colour

The world in front of me is black and white.

While only I walk in colour, I see my family in colour. 

Cold comes and cold goes but that’s all that’s bright. 

Until one day you seem to fill in, you’re fuller. 

The blonde of your hair, the blue of your eyes. 

A second, the smouldering brown the jewel green. 

I look up and see the clouds, see the colourless skies. 

You don’t shock me, though it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. 

In front of me lie two colours, blue and red. 

Red burns bright, I almost feel it on my skin. 

Blue beckons me, it takes over my head. 

I want to choose one so my life can begin. 


*Poem taken from one of my narrative's 

By The Sun, By The Edge

Heaven would be a hell of a place. 

Watching eyes in the walls wait for me to slip up. 

I rock the corner, the tiny part of my world lights up with blue, 

Snow covers the ground of my existence, I shovel it away, 

But it just tumbles back on top of me. 

I make snow angels. I look at the never comig sun. 

I watch as I go over horizon and horizon, the sun sets 

Somewhere in the distance, behind the edge of the universe. 

But then it comes up to me, and I look and realize I’ve lost everything 

In a sea of sorrow, my wants drowned. Now I fling myself of the edge 

But then you grab me by the collar, turn me round and say. 

“Go to the edge on the other side” And I smile. As me and her go 

To save my wants. 

Inverted Worlds

Swimming in a sea of bed sheets

We drive a drown and drive again. 

Running on a road of feathers 

Passing nowhere and heading to nowhere. 

Climbing a mountain of stairs

Reaching the summit we pulsate. 

Light streaks through the rafters, 

Columns of dust sway in a non existent breeze. 

Ribbons flare over the purple sky. 

They duck and dive, tensing the orange water

Next to the blood red grass. Alone a single doves wanders. 

Inverted is the world alone, half of it missing. 

In bed sheets she wakes, colors in the right place. 

Flesh still next to hers, life still in her veins. 

Empty Battlefield

I think I know every detail of the floor.
My eye's refuse to give into my desire to look,
My breath doesn't want to be steady.
I feel my arms shake, my fingers grasp at empty air.
The life around me is being sucked away,
I would give it to you if I could.

The results say I'm wrong. But I know I'm right.
Heaven and hell are going to war but I don't know which is which.
Fire laps the skin of my existence, threatening to destroy my world.
Yet excitement rises in my heart.
Clouds drift by, a long summer day, friends away, emptiness in the world.
Yet, this is simple, this is right.

At the centre of the battlefield I wait, ready to be consumed.
I will it to happen but it never does, nobody ever charges for me.

You and I, Love and Hate.

I live in a circle full of warmth. 

You live with the doors closed, but the ice still gets in. 

I live under sunlight, I see clearly. 

You live under darkness, your blind. 

You throw the dart but miss the target.

I sit and watch it fly by without flinching.

You pull strings and move puppets into place at will. 

I take hands, smile for a smile in return. 

I don’t love what I hate.

You hate what you love. 

They say we’re both stupid.  

We both know it’s true.  

Inferno

Ember floats from atlantis to land on the hay at my feet, 

it sits suspended for a moment the catches as if late for the bus. 

Fire slowly builds until it engulfs me. 

You look at me and wonder why I'm on fire, why would i do that?

But only you can put me out, you life is my water. 

But i’d rather blaze forever than feel your cold embrace. 

Then when you touch you catch fire to. 

Smoke signals everyone of our flames, they cheer us on 

We burn together, two fire become one. 

I fall of a cliff but you tug me back before i hit water

Our Inferno builds brighter and hotter

And even as we leave this earth are fire still ranges. 

We set fire to the world. 

We let it know what fire feels like. 

We burn forever. 

For As Long As We Both Shall Live

Smoke rises, beams of light are caught in it’s grip. 

The sun isn’t what it used to be, it’s changed the the world which it used to give life. 

Forever dusk, ash never settles. 

Crack appear, small at first but then they span out and consume. 

Things shift, once sturdy positions are now uncomfortable. 

The dust resettle after things find a new resting place. 

She smiled, it was like the sun had found a new vent. 

Connected, their eyes are glued, but by will.

They circle, towards there own destruction. 

The Zombie Diaries - Part 5 - The Thin Line

*All speech has been translated from Russian 

The first item is a order sent to army basses all over Russia. 

Because of the recent epidemic of the unknown virus the government has ordered the set up a line of defence against the infected heading towards russia through Europe. So the military will dispatch you to our border and you will form a line across the continent and hold it till a cure is found. See included information for where you will be dispatched. 

*An Interview conducted with the only known veteran of the russian dead defence. Currently living in a psychiatric ward in the only know siberian settlement.  

The dead defence followed the old russian border almost perfectly starting in the most Northern part that bordered estonia then going south going through other countries to maintain the straight line and also cutting out part of our own. Then it came to the north east tip of the black sea. The line went directly east from there until it met the Caspian sea and thats was it. We only protected ourselves for Europe and even that didn't work out, we never thought it would spread in asia so quickly, or that there would be infected coming from Alaska or Canada. Pretty soon after the army moved into place along the line it was seen how they were spread to thin, conscription was brought in, only in Moscow at first but after the promise the army would be the first to get the cure when it was ready many sighed up without hesitation. 

But the whole thing was ridicules I remember the darkness pressed against my eyes, the rain and the mud was all I could see. I don't know how I was suppose to protect my country like that, they’d promise big flood light but they were always late on. If a hoard of dead came at us we would be finished, it’s not like they hate the rain, or water, those stories about infected rising from the black sea might not be true but I'm damn glad I wasn’t on that front. I paced my section of the trench for about half an hour, it was up to who ever was in  charge of there section of line on how to guard it, we decided to build bunkers but it was slow going, supplies were thin and we have only just enough men to guard and build at the same time. Some parts of the line had simple chain link fences while others have barricades made from anything imaginable, cars, houses, whole towns converted into a long stretch of wall that went on for ever, I saw the picture on the news when I got of duty sometimes. 

All we had was a trench for the foundations of what should be a concrete house, it seems a little permanent to me, this amazing multipurpose building that will make are line impassable by anything. When Europe got quiet, in those days when it stayed there and we thought it had stopped, all of russia got tense, we knew there were millions of dead in there, helicopters and planes have flown over places like Berlin and Paris, they say that they wander aimlessly around the streets. I remember them talking about the groups that survived in there though, the refugee thats made it out and the bunker in london that was trying to make a cure.

I remember it all kicker of just as the lights switched, they illuminated the entire field on front of us and it was just in time cause a torso was crawling towards me. When it saw the lights it began to crawl frantically, I still wonder how it lost it’s legs, someone probably should have done a better job of finishing it of. To my left someone impatient finished it off. It slumped down not far from the line, I may have been examining it a bit to long cause it had gotten pretty close. The rest of that night was pretty quiet until it got to dawn. Just as I was beginning to get light I remember I saw it, in the distance was a hill and just on the crest was a swarm of undead. Im not talking about a few dozen there were fucking hundreds of thousands of the bastards. 

For the first time I understood why people called it the walking storm. You see it in the distance at first, it was like the earth was moving, like a land slide. They were running, stampeding, towards the line, there was no way we were ever going to stand up to them, and then the storm hits you, but I wish it was a storm. Several people started firing into the horde, only a few fell, the trained soldiers, were managing head shots whereas the civilian  army just fired blindly into the mass and most managed to hit but no where lethal, they only hit due to the sheer mass of bodies of course. 

*He looks of into the distance for a moment wide eyes like being back there. 

My commanding officer, was grabbed by one of them and then they all piled on, I remember the look of cheer terror in his eyes as they ripped each limb of his body and starting chewing on them, I managed to get him in the head, I'm sure he appreciated it but I still wake up at night thinking… what if that was me. 

*He shudders at the thought of the pain. 

I remember that I didn't shoot one bullet into those thing that night, I only killed him.  As soon as they were upon as simply ran, I’m not sure whether I did the right thing but I know I wouldn’t have made a difference. About two minuets after jets flew over head, they fired into the hoard, I’m sure it helped but it’s not like there human, the ones that get totally vaporised would be gone for sure but they ones who got just burt or an arm blown of, there still walking now. 

*He looks out the window as if to see them approaching now. 

I ran and ran and ran. Got on the evacuation trail into siberia. Lucky I guess, damn lucky. 

*He looks at the scars on his arms, with a look of curiosity, almost wondering how he got them. He asks who I am and what I'm doing here.