Forever

A pulse; definition of character?
Reality; dependent on heartbeat?

If I stop breathing, does that make me any less human? I cease to exist because nobody can hear me, feel me, smell me - and after all those senses have failed to persevere- I am judged simply on vision. Perhaps if you do not see me, it is on account of you having no vision and not, on the contrary, as a result of my supposed non-existence.
Truth is reflective of life. Apparently, you hand me a piece of paper entitled 'the end' and I believe you. Then what happens? Nobody knows. But if you hand me a piece of paper entitled 'tomorrow is the end', I shall not surrender. Why? Because you give me hope. Tomorrow is something, anything, everything...but maybe, just maybe not 'the end'.


Truth is not the culprit. It is hope that is wretched. And hope cannot exist without love. You love the thought of a, b or c that the tomorrow will bring and so you hope for it. And with this phenomenal union of hope and love comes great uncertainty. Love will bring you both tremendous strength and undeniable weakness. The uncertainty, then, exists in the essence of the unpredictability of love itself. In the end [forgive the irrefutable pessimism and the tiny violin playing 'woe is me' on mute] but weakness prevails. Why? Because everything must end.
Love brings with it a distinct array of emotions so profound, so inexplicable - that one simply cannot escape. In the delusional repercussions of this extensive strength, born inevitably from such concrete love, the disease of 'forever' is unveiled to the human spirit. And so it begins...
Forever corrodes away, quite unsuspectingly, at love, hope and finally, truth. Yet all this time, you are convinced of your realism, your unwavering strength against fantasy whilst forever quietly reigns over your undefeatable subconscious.
Then as if everything in the universe was working specifically to spite you, endings attack.
Emerging from beneath the rubble, you dust off the remains of forever from what was your best dress and head in the direction of love only to discover that the ending was rather unforgiving to all that you deemed significant, profound, your…tremendous strength. Enter undeniable weakness, stage right.

In the midst of forever reigning over the kingdom of your imagination, you forgot to monitor love on the intensity-Richter scale and it inevitably, rocketed – taking hope and truth as front seat passengers. And there you stand, shattered – stunned, convinced that had somebody warned you about endings, you would never be in this position. But that is, as a result of the absence of truth, a complete lie.

As human beings we are simply incapable of not loving. Despite suffering traumatically each and every time from the reality of endings, we continue to immerse ourselves with the genetics of love, truth and forever; but why? Surely we are supposed to learn from our mistakes. If something burns so mercilessly inside you, why would you ever want such an unpleasant, unbearable sensation to return? Simply on account of helplessness. No individual makes the conscious decision to fall in love, neither do they make the conscious decision to sacrifice hope and truth in return for a malicious forever that exists only to devastate. It is innate, internal, embedded within the physical construction of the human mechanism. And it is the recognition of this very helplessness that helps return to us, our beloved truth and hope. It is not until you helplessly watch from the sidelines as forever dismantles, destroys and buries the love you entrusted it with that truth and hope will return.

And so you go on making the same mistake consistently through life, waiting – inevitably, for your ending. You make your love triumphant and donate segments of it to those you wish to have forever and when endings strike, they brutally vanquish every one of those forever’s in the form of cancer or hemorrhages or old age or disease and you watch helplessly from the sidelines, clutching the threads of the hope and truth you lost long ago to the enchantment of forever. Exit, forever.

But we are only human. We cannot function without loving or having the expectation to love and so we return… “hoping we can go on looking at life together”.

With love for you always, Silvia. Rest peacefully.

Casual Sex

Clutching the hem of Her plaid skirt,
They sit – stitched together like rag dolls.
Delicate, nervous –
eyes like wildfire.
Leaning in, listening intently
to how he writhed, so desperately, beneath Her

Twelve, Thirteen – not a day over Twenty,
black nails, Red Lips, notebooks left empty.

Her cheeks Pink; blusher or embarrassment?
Ribena bottles of burgundy wine,
‘I have no breasts on show’-
Her eyes,
realise,
that I am a malfunctioned female design.

Mind the gap – ‘my gap’.
Thrusting into the darkness,
‘No, I don’t want it hard,
Deep-
you wouldn’t know the meaning of the word!’

Light.
‘Am I sweating?’

Giggles. Unhurt by imagination,
they smile coyly to one another.
Sweat on Her upper lip,
She fixes her gaze upon me,
‘Frigid because at 20, I still say no?
A whore because confidence is over-rated?

She snatches her eyes away and
declares me a walking institute of anarchy.

They sway, together- fluid and untouched,
Rigid, unwavering – I cannot reach her.
But I plead, ‘Testosterone must never get its heart broken’.

This Is Kings Cross.

Clutching sweaty palms, they leap,
and She turns only once to approve her reflection.

My world falls silent and I stand with my

Legs wide open,
heart, reluctantly wider
Because You want so desperately to be inside her
Divide her
Break her inside
Physical pain she may deny
But who will speak for the unforeseen attachment?

You sweat and so does she
The World Applauds You- Standing Ovation.
she washes off Your stench, her blood
The Mighty, Victorious You
she sits,
You stand
The condom wrapper on her nightstand
Remains her only trace of You.

And that is all You want of
us.

Evepollution

Empty soul atop Nahal Sorek -
the Unbreakable Conscience of a Harlot;
a Woman drowns immersed in riddles.
From a single Fruit, to a Thousand Silver Coins
15 judges condemn the Loins
of a Mother and Her Wretched Arms,
And the fall of man from civilised Demands.

david perched high
in the sky
overlooks Cyclical Tragedy.

The Whore’s Red Lips as Black
as Her heart:
“Oh, Delilah, won’t you pluck the Strings of his harp”
Ropes are merciless and truth unsustainable,
but the reality of his love so vividly attainable.
Strength he sacrifices
his blood; the sketch of a You that transcends still life in his eyes.
Not a tear he cries.
and You…You…Faithless and Unwavering – stand not as a testament to Me.
Speak as You drown under Gaza’s fields of gratuity.
Dagon summons and You
forget the rib from which you breathe.

Never does he denounce You -
never once are You tried.
It is simply I
that drives back forth to
Purgatory.

Unicef vs Studentcef

10.06 on a Tuesday morning; I’ve just wrestled my way off the central line at Mile End and am already 6 minutes late for my lecture on Modernism and Democracy.
As I attempt to cross the crazy intersection, I am nearly run over by a number 25 that wants desperately to engulf me in it’s stretchy mid section. I contemplate how stunning I really must be if more than heterosexual men, giant red automobiles desire me…

I look at my watch: 10.10 – “I don’t think anyone expects to encounter profound epiphanies on Whitman this morning”, I reassure myself. Though, the cute American guy from last week was pretty insightful; making him even more attractive then his sparkly green eyes. I digress…which inevitably makes me walk slower!

10.12- I stop dead in my tracks – “Good morning, pretty lady!” ‘Calm yourself’, I respond to my man-radar, ‘it’s not George Clooney’. But instead, a Unicef charity worker. Leading me by the arm, he proposes we have a quick chat [no doubt concerning his rather hideous, luminous orange overcoat] I briefly consider the fashion alternatives I’ll give him – ‘Topman does a great leather jacket that will compliment your jet-black hair’.

“We are working to help all the world’s children in every sector possible – health, education, poverty and you could be a vital element in that process”.
“I’m so sorry! I’m already late for my lecture”.
“But this will only take a second my love. We are asking that you donate as little as £5 a month and you’ll save as many as 90 children a year…now, wouldn’t that make you feel just great?!”

Let us review.
“I am a 20 year old undergrad, already £15,000 in student loan debt, with a part-time job that hardly pays for a Nutri Grain breakfast bar let alone my zones 1-4 oyster! I have no solid career prospect aside from an inclination to complete a post-grad that’ll cost me another £12,000 and I have to pay £15 for a bottle of Gaviscon on prescription because I’m no longer 18. Not to mention the £56 a month eating out of my summer savings as I am married to the gym on account of popular culture denying my thunder thighs altogether. Save the children of the world?! I am a child of the world – save me!!!”
He smiles uncomfortably, backs away slowly and looks for another victim. Charity workers outside a University full of financially unstable, struggling students?! Please feel free to donate £5 a month to me anytime…that'll give me something to feel great about!