RED SHOES

Delusional?

Just the fact you think you could be delusional, makes you and your delusions real.

To think is to make real.

He taught her that, well, 

he said

thoughts are things.

He

.he

.he said

He

he

She

could go on forever.

she had hoped, 

he

would join her.

She wore red shoes that day.

All the african schoolchildren sitting on the pavement, whistled and shouted as she walked past.

Even they knew she was up to something - something they wished they could be a part of,

even they knew.

THE WHISPER SHE COULDNT IGNORE

Three times that day she had called its name, 

THREE TIMES

Yes, yes she knew that now she would have to live alone.

A biography?

I don't think so.

Wandering and wavering, our roots lie within this ground, they wait patiently for us to

unite our earthly legs with them again, and once again become one with the earth in our death and decay. 

A marvellous fortune, 

i couldn't have planned it better myself.

roots, roots, oh where are my roots.

roots, roots, i long for my roots.

She always found it crazy, impossible, the way objects always seem to hide themselves,

the way objects pretend to sit still?

Bit you know that you don't and then you find them again and go 'aaah' but

secretly you KNOW that its not where you left it.

Also its consistency never let up, she could practically never put something down and find it again.

Scissors, pencils, sharpeners, pins......you heard me. 

DUSK = REHAB

'No, no, thank you very much Mr Moretti! 

Yeh everythings fine. 

oh that, oh its nothing, 

wait till you see what happened to my friend Jester.

Uh okay i gotta go and thanks again for giving it to me in fifties'

She always thought it better to linger with the dusk, to breathe in 

the blue-grey opium, 

the smudgy blue black air that opens the stage for night.

An ancients new day. 

The ever restless, changing of positions, 

transition 

positions.

She realised this was nearly rehab time, 

she was always getting drunk and stoned on dusk.

Then ever so quickly a sharp shard shaft of paranoid stung her, actually it more like

bit her.

Damn, it even left teeth marks.

Rose room spray, can it save the day?

The eternal question. 

JEMIMA AND THE FLAMMABLE MATERIALS

Jemima had found for herself a lover, 

she prayed that he would not burst into flame and scatter and disintegrate,

like those

who had gone before.

this was the one she had been hoping for, this was the one.

the notice read:

'NO FLAMMABLE LIQUIDS OR MATERIALS ALLOWED'

This one was going to last, even if she had to see to it herself.

She said it out aloud, 

to an imaginary audience, 

well imaginary or not, who can say?

It was an audience and she put on a magnificent performance  

 

WE WILL SEE

She, 

fell like an ash teardrop, 

she burst and scattered at the same time when she hit the ground. 

There were too many people, with too many sides to take.

Too many things to say and too many tides to get swept past on the rapids of the sidetides.

It,

seemed

magical

I assure you,

it

wasnt.

The harsh fluorescent light of day.

The constantly being on trial, will bring out - oh but - only your best qualities.

She

grinned and turned to hide her mouth.

We will see.

INDEED

We will see.