DriftingHigh

The crunch of steel! The breaking of bone, blood splattered across the dashboard, like tomato sauce on a meaty slab! Crumpling, crumpled, dead. Another collision on the roadside, this time motorcycle and motorcar, never paying attention! The sirens, signaling the services safety, not like the three which troubled Odysseus and Jason! Dead at the scene, the shaking of heads moving of bodies, mutterings of men in yellow. Yellow for warning, red for danger! another fresh slaughter on the roadside.

It used to snow in December, shoveling the days away as though nothing had ever mattered, clearing the porch was an arduous task but there was no task as hard as defrosting the meat in the cellar. Christmas brought presents, lights, cheery faces upturned to the tree longing for prizes, gifts and love. There is a tinge of melancholy I wanted the red engine, not the blue. Dinner on the 25th was always the same, cranberry drizzled meats, roasted potatoes, and steamed vegetables. The crunch, crack and chewing, creamed potatoes were never allowed at the table. Scraps were given to the dog, golden haired, pink nosed through and t

1. From the porch we'd watch our shadows grow as candles blow out birthday wishes

                         Peaking,       a crack appears in the doorway accompanied by the bright eyes of youth       searching for comfort and solace                          Creaking,       as the first steps on the landing swallow bright eyes in yellow fluorescents       searching for comfort and solace                         Knocking,       sounds out on familiar doors as silence completely swallows bright eyes         searching for comfort and solace                            Stepping,       on steep stairs carefully, no sound, the house is quiet, as the bright eyes whimper          searching for comfort and so

Scenes of truth Sighing slightly, as he hung up the phone, Sam got up from the sofa and looked around the messy room he currently occupied- his parent's living room. He could see the remains of lunch, which at one point had rested on a plate, now scattered across the carpeted floor. He supposed they must have fallen off the sofa arm as he was jolted awake by the loud and rhythmic sounds of his house phone, a few minutes ago. The television was still blaring, though the show about Animal habitats in Africa had now given way to advertisements for a new brand of soap. His mind wondered back to the phone call- his parents were going to be back b

I had always left my love in a box, fourteen centimetres by fourteen. Mahogany, finely polished with rocks. It held many things that you and I had seen. It had always had a special place here, right beside me- i'd never let it go. I hadn't doubted once, not with it so near. This mahogany box, I need not throw. You couldn't see it, after all this time- because I shielded it from your gaze. This little mahogany box of mine. It was yours, to last 'til the end of days. And when we argue, in my 'lil box I see something there; your love- under lock and key.

To barter your love, I cannot conceive, our inversions of thought do tempt distrust; but strength of heart and mind - fashion believe a caring too tender for cupid's thrust. Oh solely remember thy taste, refresh and rinse your mind for future days to dawn. May hearts not twine body to spirits flesh, and bring another chance 'til breaking morn. The curse I placed o'er myself breaketh not bonds formed by strongest hands, yet choke a voice. From sunken earth, love not admits its plot; or yet morality of our rare choice. But through the looking-glass of our love, we shall never think of what others can see.

1. hill of violets thousand beauties beat you age conquers them 2. summer snow falls very slowly to bathers distaste 3. a sky filled ballet swirling flakes of white february blizzard 4. a river flows, swiftly now beneath the ice 5. hovering slowly fireflies glow brightly- banishing night

Your shattering realities create, imperfect unisons of minds alike. Assumptions of a single unit, always together- always two. But never one- that's just you. Unable to last, one remains one. Unable to end, one remains two. If this were love, if this were true, Would you be one, instead of two? This marriage of soul and love, was not meant to be. You true selves wish, to fly free. Of shackles placed, with the utmost care. And too fall apart, a condition- oh so rare. Yet with this, after all is done- One shall still remain as one.