The Importance Of Being Idle

I must say that my absolute lack of talent with regard to anything creative is disturbing.I've spent the last one day trying to play Blackbird on the guitar and also In A Little While, and in all honesty I am amazed at how unlike The Beatles and U2 I sound...vaah.. I am thinking it is time to try my hand at something else.And of course being absolutely BORED out of my skull I have attempted to draw several cool pictures which I have to say are second in hideousness only to my rendition of In A Little While.Suddenly finding yourself on an unexpected 10 day break does wierd things to your state of sanity.. For example barely 24 hours ago I was stuck in college, thinking sourly about the slimy capsicum aloo thing that I was going to have to eat for lunch.. and now, I'm at home playing around with my nyyooo ultra sooper fast broadband connection..Bwahahahahahaha!!!!!... I think today, I'll do nothing all morning, sleep all afternoon, eat HUGE lunch and dinner, and then sleep some more... vaat a good laiph.. You can always tell that it's going to be a good day when you wake up not remembering what day of the week it is, and then subsequently realise ( as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and inhale the coffee smell thats wafting up from the kitchen) that you don't need to.If it werent so buggeringly hot, I'd consider going out for a walk or something, but instead I'll just stay inside all day and go for a walk in the evening. ( if i wake up).. Should I do something exciting today? Like water the plants? Or give my dog a bath? Or make experimental pasta?Naaah... I'm just going to sit around all day till I put The Edge to shame with my guitar playing prowess. and also till I manage to secure a pleading letter for my artistic assistance from Neil Gaiman.. Hah. I love using words like prowess in ordinary sentences.Everything's Going To Be Alright. Rockabye.

Freedom Dreams

I sit on the edge of a pier, next to a boy with an old face. The sun is a violent pink cirlce, firing its last rays into the universe of blue sky and blue sea, like a lone warrior, surrounded by his enemies, casting his last vestiges of strength into battle. We look out onto the sea, and I feel scared like I always do when I look at the sea, like if I let my guard down, its just going to swallow me up, strangle me till my lungs burst and I die screaming wordless screams under the water... The boy holds my hand, and his tired eyes look at my face with a resignation tinged with tenderness. We are friends, I know we are, but I know he occassionally grows weary of me, of my ignorance, of the sheer folly of my youth, of who I am.
I do nothing but grip his fingers.
Someone on the beach has a radio turned up high, and its music dances around in my head, soothes the atmosphere, makes me sit back and enjoy the melody. We feel no need for conversation now that the music has taken the place of words, no need to communicate, except to wordlessly tell each other that we sit side by side for a reason.
The music takes my mind to thoughts other than of the here and now, I look at who I am and where I am, I think of where I want to be.Where do I want to be? How many times in my life have I wondered?
I can't swim. My companion speaks for the first time betraying that the music set off a train of thoughts in his head that were completely different from mine.
Swimming's the only thing I'm good at, I reply.
We relapse into silence. I look at his face, study the lines around his eyes, the worry etched into every crease of his forehead. He's too young for this, he's too good for this. I wish I could free him, I wish he could learn to be happy. All I have to offer is my company. My silent company, since I can think of no words. And maybe this is a time to not say a thing.
In attempting to liberate those that you love, in attempting to aid them in finding their salvation, are you just tying yourself up in them? Giving them and you one more thing to be bound to? Should you just sit back and let them be alone?Can you bear to see that?
As I stare at him, I wonder how much of my concern is concern for him, and how much is actually my own depserate need to be with him.I never tie people down, atleast I try my best not to. It shouldn't be a net between people, it should be two threads tied together, that can be untied and retied at will.
The wind picks up suddenly and the sea that licks the bottom of my toes turns cooler. The sweat of the day drips away down my spine and slowly, the phantom of the night spreads his cloak over the sky. A thousand words form on my parched lips, words of friendship, words of love, words of reassurance and questioning, never daring to say, never daring to ask for the pleasure of his company again, and they die before I can get them out.
How can I want to be both free and caged at the same time, so badly?
How true is any freedom that I may aspire towards, if at the back of my mind the thought of being tied down still appeals to me somwhere? I cower behind my mask, I am my own phantom as I wallow in the cellars of my despair, never believing that anything is worth being tied down to, never thinking for one minute that someone won't kick me into the street the moment I fold my wings.
I smile at the boy sitting next to me, he smiles back, and suddenly we're both laughing, we're not sure why, but everything seems so ridiculously funny. How can we be anything but happy, when we sit together on a pier, watching the sunset, untouched by the road that screams like a dying bird behind us? We are free when we are together, they dont hurt us because they don't matter.
I lean forward and kiss him gently. He smiles at me sweetly, the smile lifts some of the sadness from his eyes.I jump into the water and beckon him to join me, even though I know he doesn't swim.
This is freedom. We are friends, nothing more and nothing less. We love each other as much as we love ourselves. We do not dare long for each other because in the longing we are not free. In desire there is despair. We dare not go there, for where we are is perfect, where we are is where I want to be.
But only for the moment and for the moment alone.

Pleadings In Perdition

The knot inside,

It tightens nice

The fist it closes,

Like a vice.

Blood it pounds, through the veins,

The anger pours,

The rage it rains.

Goodbye, goodbye, we've had enough,

Just a minute to clear our stuff.

So long my love,

The die is cast,

We are the oblivion of your past,

The glass that crack'd is whole no more

My zephyr walks out through the door.