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Current Mood: 
anxious
anxiousCurrent Music: Please, Don't Go // SHINee
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Dreamweaver
If you love me, well then, that's your fault...
28 November 2009 @ 11:35 pm
14 August 2009 @ 02:46 pm
Current Mood: 
geeky
geeky16 November 2008 @ 11:27 pm
A world without colour was painful to him. The only familiar thing being the paleness of the snow. He searched amongst the ruins. So many dead. Faces he knew in passing and faces he didn't; all strangers now, frozen by the winter. He didn't know exactly what he was searching for. The colour that had been so stolen from him, perhaps? The colour of a world he had taken for granted until the last minutes and lost for such foolishness.
Nothing now but white and the echoing shades of pale grey to pitch black.
Searching maybe, for the house he had left behind. The park in between their two houses. A street corner where he could see both their windows. Roses and Hydrangea's lining their inner city streets. A distance once not so far, lengthened by death. Socks and memories.
Only knowing that despite the pain, if he stopped there would be no more moving on.
For how long he wandered like this, he wasn't sure. He collected things along the way; rope, watches, chains, cigarettes; becoming a common thief from the dead no less and he could feel his soul wither, drop after drop until it drove him to a halt. To fall upon his knees and weep nothing but sobs into the ice.
I couldn't save you... Couldn't save anybody...
Something told him to continue.
When he found the boy, almost dead but not quite; whimpering, no more voice left to cry; he wondered if the messed together weaving frame and the web of tangled spiraling knot work inside was big enough to heal all his wounds, as the rope hurriedly burnt away with the rise of his voice. So much blood on his hands, a dark grey against his fingertips... In the snow around them, discoloured from the pure whiteness. A creeping taint.
It was as he held the boy close to his chest; broken bones protesting against sharp intakes of breath, that he wept those tears now stained the most vibrant red.
More than for singing life into the narrow body that convulsed as the hurried healing took place; it was the fact that colour was restored to his sight.
He wished to be blind again.
( .... )
Nothing now but white and the echoing shades of pale grey to pitch black.
Searching maybe, for the house he had left behind. The park in between their two houses. A street corner where he could see both their windows. Roses and Hydrangea's lining their inner city streets. A distance once not so far, lengthened by death. Socks and memories.
Only knowing that despite the pain, if he stopped there would be no more moving on.
For how long he wandered like this, he wasn't sure. He collected things along the way; rope, watches, chains, cigarettes; becoming a common thief from the dead no less and he could feel his soul wither, drop after drop until it drove him to a halt. To fall upon his knees and weep nothing but sobs into the ice.
I couldn't save you... Couldn't save anybody...
Something told him to continue.
When he found the boy, almost dead but not quite; whimpering, no more voice left to cry; he wondered if the messed together weaving frame and the web of tangled spiraling knot work inside was big enough to heal all his wounds, as the rope hurriedly burnt away with the rise of his voice. So much blood on his hands, a dark grey against his fingertips... In the snow around them, discoloured from the pure whiteness. A creeping taint.
It was as he held the boy close to his chest; broken bones protesting against sharp intakes of breath, that he wept those tears now stained the most vibrant red.
More than for singing life into the narrow body that convulsed as the hurried healing took place; it was the fact that colour was restored to his sight.
He wished to be blind again.
( .... )
Current Mood: anxious
anxiousCurrent Music: Paranoid Android // Radiohead
01 November 2008 @ 10:08 am
Those dreams I made for you...
He stared deeply into his palms. Blind. Amazed at how white blindness was, rather than the inky black he'd imagined behind closed eyes.
Sitting coiled amongst the rubble of some building, collapsed under the surge. Buried mostly by snow.
They never came true did they?
He was cut. Bruised. Could feel broken ribs protesting against his position but he couldn't move, that face imprinted in the whiteness that burnt into a headache so heavy he thought he might pass out.
Left on the edge of the world, to bloom as solitary testament.
I'm sorry, that I left you alone...
Because he thought he could do something. Anything. As he ran, the matching pairs for his feet and his heart left behind.
Dream them another existence he thought...
Dreams were thick around him, those left undreamt by the dead that laid so peacefully around him.
He couldn't see them, little more than afterthoughts and static flickerings, but he knew.
And ached.
He cried. Unable to see the black, black tears track down his face. Fall to hit the white, white snow that fell even at the end of the world and bleed into grey, grey, grey.
A world left in monochrome.
( ..... )
He stared deeply into his palms. Blind. Amazed at how white blindness was, rather than the inky black he'd imagined behind closed eyes.
Sitting coiled amongst the rubble of some building, collapsed under the surge. Buried mostly by snow.
They never came true did they?
He was cut. Bruised. Could feel broken ribs protesting against his position but he couldn't move, that face imprinted in the whiteness that burnt into a headache so heavy he thought he might pass out.
Left on the edge of the world, to bloom as solitary testament.
I'm sorry, that I left you alone...
Because he thought he could do something. Anything. As he ran, the matching pairs for his feet and his heart left behind.
Dream them another existence he thought...
Dreams were thick around him, those left undreamt by the dead that laid so peacefully around him.
He couldn't see them, little more than afterthoughts and static flickerings, but he knew.
And ached.
He cried. Unable to see the black, black tears track down his face. Fall to hit the white, white snow that fell even at the end of the world and bleed into grey, grey, grey.
A world left in monochrome.
( ..... )
Current Mood: 
contemplative
contemplativeCurrent Music: The One Thing I Know // Kate Miller Heidke
20 October 2008 @ 10:59 am
The ice on the window panes signified the end of the world.
He pressed a palm against the frosted glass, melting the shape of his hand into the ice then watched as it froze back over, the shape of his trembling hand preserved forever against the glass.
He was accustomed to being alone. It was no surprise. To find himself gazing head on into the coming of a forever winter night. Alone. Afraid. With nowhere to run.
A mismatched pair of socks sat beside him. Found in the washing machine on the morning of the last day of the future; each missing their match, plastered to those feet run somewhere without him.
"I'll look after you..." A voice throbbed from the background full of static, that promise forever said, forever meant. Almost too late.
He felt arms wrap around him. Protecting him. Begging to be protected.
"So don't be afraid,"
When he said 'I love you' with an intensity that burned hotter than that white light, blinding them... the last words he heard before the roar deafened them.
In the darkness... Alone.
He wished it was true.
He pressed a palm against the frosted glass, melting the shape of his hand into the ice then watched as it froze back over, the shape of his trembling hand preserved forever against the glass.
He was accustomed to being alone. It was no surprise. To find himself gazing head on into the coming of a forever winter night. Alone. Afraid. With nowhere to run.
A mismatched pair of socks sat beside him. Found in the washing machine on the morning of the last day of the future; each missing their match, plastered to those feet run somewhere without him.
"I'll look after you..." A voice throbbed from the background full of static, that promise forever said, forever meant. Almost too late.
He felt arms wrap around him. Protecting him. Begging to be protected.
"So don't be afraid,"
When he said 'I love you' with an intensity that burned hotter than that white light, blinding them... the last words he heard before the roar deafened them.
In the darkness... Alone.
He wished it was true.
Current Mood: 
blah
blahCurrent Music: Love in the Ice // DBSK