I stood alone on top of the world, touching the clouds, and gazing out across a new city. The space you left beside me swallowed up all of the light. In the darkness left behind, I tried to dream up a future without you. All of my dreams were in your care.
Anonymous
Shards
The woman at the counter cups a tiny heart of glass,
You swap it for the shards you found behind the underpass.
At last, what you’ve been searching for, now clasp it in your gaze,
Admire its weight upon your fate as surroundings start to haze.
Phasing out of your attention the ceiling drips down past the walls,
The windows start to peel away and thaw into the doors.
Shuddering now in a brighter place, there’s a light to bleach your Soul,
Put your hand upon your chest, attest, no brooding beat at all.
The floor begins to fracture as you struggle to stand still,
Keep your little glass heart safe despite the overspill.
A heat begins to sear your skin and eyes no longer see,
You’re just a little speck of might in a white hot fantasy.
Still, cling tight to this little hope as it’s all there’s left to feel,
A centre to the frenzy in a world of unending unreal.
Hurtling faster all around you are heavy chunks of brick,
They’ll crush your little glass heart if you flinch or don’t act quick.
So now the only way to keep it safe so nothing will collide,
Open wide your meagre, eager throat and let it slip inside.
Stef Elrick, Manchester, UK.
A small purple ant, crawling from beneath your lower eyelid.
A larger ant, its exterior a whitened pearl, finds its way out from within your nose and laughs hysterically at your face, which is now sporting no features but a large vertical slit down its middle.
by Dexuality Valentino
It’s dark. I’m rolling back from the usual selection of bars, rolling seems apt rather than walking, walking is more one step in front of the other than the side to side forward motion my legs seem to have chosen for me. Everywhere is silent, I glance up and see an old friend. ‘Evening’ I said. The star glimmered back at me. It took me right back.
I was seven or maybe eight years old and I was watching the sky outside my window. I did this a lot when I was sent to my room usually for some kind of sulk regarding a food related incident. I was a fussy eater then, still am now. These days I don’t tend to get sent to my room though a bonus of being an adult i can choose what I eat. I can eat my dessert first if I want to, though I never do. I recalled those days room dark and silent. I used to lean with my chest pushed against the window ledge and my forehead pressed firmly against the window pane. My hands around my eyes to see into the dark sky better. I would try not to breathe onto the glass I had worked out that if I breathed downwards it wouldn’t steam up the window and cloud my vision. I noticed a dot looking down at me. Funny I had never noticed it before. But there it was shining brightly, glistening just for me. My little star.
The moon always looked a tad jealous of my star. Never shared the same space of night sky. The star seemed so alone up there probably was until we found each other, I used to think. I knew it was up there trying to catch my attention. I smiled and it twinkled back at me. That was the start of our friendship. We spent many hours discussing important things like dinosaurs, what was on tv, what our favourite books were, I even read up on planets and the moon so I could talk about such things I thought my star would know. To be honest it wasn’t that bothered about those things and seemed more interested in cartoons. It sparkled animatedly when I talked about the adventures of bugs bunny, or how the roadrunner had thwarted Coyote once again.
My glittering friend was a restless one and didn’t stay in the same place from one night to the next. I always found him when the clouds allowed. Which was most nights in winter and summer. We only fell out once. It was a silly tiff over whether it was fair the coyote always lost. He didn’t like that and thought that at least once he deserved a little victory. I would argue as loud as I could whilst being very quiet in my room, that the show wouldn’t work if that happened. He disappeared for a long time after that. I thought he was sulking. When he came back he said he understood, but I knew he didn’t really, he just missed me. But I never pulled him up on that.
Now when I look up and see my old friend I now know he was never my friend, he was just a dying planet far, far away. He had never known I existed at all. I tipped my hat and said ‘goodbye old friend’
As I walked on home I wished I was young again with my face pressed against that window.
Dexuality Valentino, Manchester, UK.
The only way to a better society is to base things on what we, as individuals, truly believe and not, contrary to instinct, what we are told to believe. Only by doing this will we achieve the honesty of opinion necessary for real development in society. Challenge what you think and why. Challenge why you think and what.
Chris Petch, Harrogate, UK.
The site of my earliest adolescent longings lies demolished reduced to horizontality.
Michael Cullen
The Word of God
When I was a small child I believed in the omnipotence of God, and was terrified. My parents weren’t particularly religious, but a girl in my class told me that if I misbehaved Jesus would know, and said it with sufficient conviction that it had to be true. The thought that everything I did was being scrutinised by some invisible, all-potent deity was cause enough to make me petrified of ill-behaving. So instead I became introverted, studious and shy. I would, however, read voraciously, and once I had got beyond the Bible, I started on everything else I could find.
I think I was about 17 when I realised that most of the religious tracts didn’t make logical or consistent sense. By 22 I’d studied evolution, physics and chemistry to degree level and it was obvious that there was no divine intervention in the creation of the Universe and that it certainly hadn’t happened in 6 days. I felt weirdly torn, knowing the facts on one hand, yet still unable to cast aside my belief in the Almighty. It was, I imagined, never having even had a relationship, a bit like having an affair. There was loyalty on one side, and the years of faithfulness, but then there was an illicit joy to be had in the secret of my new found knowledge. I felt I had to make a decision between what I wanted and what I had, and with a sudden insight I realised that if God was omnipotent, He would already know what I was thinking my decision and the outcome. This scared me even more, because I didn’t want Him to know that I had any doubts. It came to me that if I filled my mind with enough stuff even God would be confused about what I was thinking; if I didn’t know myself, then how could the Lord know?
I had already read everything that came my way, but now I started to think that if I read everything that had ever been written, I would have so much knowledge that no-one, even God, could see through it to my own personal thoughts. I set up camp in the University library, and began with A. The staff didn’t take lightly to this, and by the close of the first day I had only read about four books before I was ejected. I withdrew a dozen more to keep myself going until they re-opened in the morning, but even then I was beginning to wonder how I would keep up this task. I would have to sleep at some point and then my dreams would be open to interpretation. I sought out The Doc, a character that hung around the Uni, selling drugs to students. Although I’d never used them, I was reliably informed that The Doc could supply substances that would keep me awake as well as ‘smart drugs’, although I had no idea what this meant.
The Doc was as seedy looking as he sounded; gaunt and unhealthy looking but wearing what appeared to be expensive clothes. I explained what I wanted and he laughed. “I’ve just the thing,” he said, withdrawing a small pack from his inside jacket pocket, “this is a new drug, it’s called ‘Bon Mot’. The effects are a bit like speed and a bit like LSD, it makes your brain process stuff faster and make new connections.”
“How much is it?” I asked, wondering if I could afford this minor miracle.
“The first hit is on me,” The Doc said, “after that I only want your soul!”
I took the packet of pills, inconspicuous white things with a cross in the centre, thanking him profusely. As soon as I got back to my digs I took one pill and within minutes I had settled down to read the first of my pile of books. It seemed like about an hour later when I felt I was flagging, so I popped another pill and reached for the next book only to realise I had read it. I had read all twelve. I looked at my watch, and realised more time had passed than I had thought, but I had still read all of them in a very short duration. What was more I remembered all the details and I was hungry for more. Although it was still not midnight and the library wouldn’t be open until morning, I made my way back there. Because I had studied physics and yet believed in the presence of an omniscient being, I now saw clearly that there was an easy way in. Both I and the bricks were made of atoms, so all I had to do was to pass the atoms of myself between the spaces of the atoms of the walls. Once I was inside I started reading almost at once, but I soon discovered that it was actually easier to read several books simultaneously rather than one at a time. I spread them out on the floor in front of me and scanned my eyes over the pages as they lay before me like a carpet. Within hours I knew all the plants of the Earth, the secrets of the stars and every murderer that Hercule Poirrot would ever reveal. By morning I had read every book in the library and I had run out of pills.
I left by the front door as the staff came in, hoping to track down The Doc, but instead I found myself mesmerised by words. Everywhere I looked there were words – on hoardings, buses, on packets in supermarkets, on peoples’ skin. Every two steps I took I stopped to read something. I became confused about what I was reading and why. I no longer remembered all of it, or what I had read during the night before. And it no longer made sense either. The ingredients of a cornflake packet were as significant as a religious tract; physics texts seemed like a shopping list. And that was when I realised the Word of God was just meaningless scribbles.
J E Rudd
March 2013
This project is a Cornerhouse Micro-Commission in association with the Paul Hamlyn Foundation.
Hartlepool, UK
Haiku
Fire fire burning bright
All it takes is two people
Rubbing together
Brighton, UK
Written in Skin 