The Nameless

I am emotional. I fear, I cry, I scream, and I love; I find my world tearing apart. I have lost something so important to me that I don’t think I will recover. I find myself as a wraith, a whisper; a shadow. I can’t be here anymore. I find it so hard saying goodbye...what has become of me? I have sacrificed my heart for you, even when I asked you not to take it if you couldn’t care for it. I gave it to you so that you could grow and heal from the pain inside of you. But now I find myself so empty. There is nothing I can say or do to make this better, or to make this dream real. People warned me against you, but I saw you...the real you. The person you wanted to become, but I am left disappointed. You run away and I ask myself the same questions: Why am I not the one? Why am I not good enough? I ask these questions to numb the hole you have left in me. I blame myself for the pain. But the truth is you took my heart. You broke it. And you still won’t give it back.

What hurts the most is that you made me feel like I was deluding myself, and that I was the only one living in this fantasy. Yet, as warped as I am, and as imaginative as I have been, even I could not make up the feelings that were. I could not make up the times that we shared. Am I supposed to look at you and think that you wanted me to love you so that you could be stronger? Or that my heart was the one worth destroying so that you could find your way again? Am I supposed to believe that you did not care for me at all? If you ask this of me, then you are darker and colder than the pit I find myself in. It would be easy to say that this was all my doing and that I deserve better, but you should know. You should know how I went to bed at night feeling myself die more and more each day. You should know how your emptiness ravaged me. You should know how many times I prayed that this was all a bad dream and that you loved me. But twice you have denied be that which is mine...Now I am broken. I am not Christ; you will not deny me a third time. I need no Judas. As to you the pieces are too small to matter, but to me they do. They cut me so deeply every time I look at you. You think that by asking for space or by speaking to me as if you care that I will heal. I warned you about my love. I told you that it does not dwindle. You thought I was being dramatic, but here I am again. I lose again. I want to be the razor, the raging; the deep, dark demon that draws the dagger to your chest. But that is not me. I love you, but you don’t love me. You don’t love me because I am different. You don’t love me because you don’t want to change. You don’t love me because I am the person you will never be. You will never grow. You will always run. I was the one worth leaving and I was the one not worth sacrificing for. You will never tell people the truth and you will never tell me the truth. I am the fool.

I don’t care if you will never read this. And yes you have won. Yet in your winning you have lost somebody that you will never have access to again. In time you will regret this and you will understand the hurt you have caused. Yet I will not be there. Never again. I warned you.

This is not me trying to gain sympathy, or change your mind. This is not me showing you how much better I am. This is me. I am not wounded, I am broken. I accept that. This is all I am and ever will be. You have destroyed my faith in love. I won’t let anyone near again. I have grown tired of this story. I have grown tired of you.

 

The monotany of Heartache

They say youth is wasted on the young. I cannot say whether I agree or not. What I can say is that I am so tired of the fear that resides in my young heart. The fear to just let go.

 I am painted so thin that even the fragments of my soul feel the gnawing angst of it all. They say jealousy is never the right shade for anyone, but it’s a colour I find myself these days. I wish I had the courage to fight for what I want, but the consequences of such choices haunt me... the same as the cold and hollow echoes of your footfall; a sound I once loved so well.

Now please don’t think this a melodramatic attempt to breathe life into a dead horse, or to get you understand/ feel for anything for me. I am writing my thoughts down, sending them out in hopes to release my mind from the insanity that plagues me. Today I know what it feels like to be kept on a tight leash. I am only allowed to care when you deem it fit. But the truth is I stopped loving you in those moments when you said:

“Let’s not talk about this,” or “try and focus on other things,” or “I can’t deal with this right now,” or “try and get a hobby.”

Worst still, is the stagnant silence that had left me raw, because you were not ready to face the reality of me. Me—the one person who picked you up when you were down. The one who would never let you fall, who held your hand and gave you hope. Could you have a little time for me? You used to be so excited to be near me.

In those moments I stopped loving you. I inconvenience you, yet how about how you inconvenience me? Have you spared some thought to that?

You see the monotony of heartache is what drives those who are broken-hearted cold. It is not the desire for a second chance, nor is it the longing for a returned love... or even the hope that one day a dream will merge with reality. It is just that dull ache that seemingly has no cure. It is the constant circle of hurt, determination to get better and failing-to-get-better-and-ending-up-hurting-again that frustrates the broken-hearted. It is not about getting over you, because I have done that, it’s about killing a dream that you have inspired in me; one that I have nurtured and loved. It is about taking you into to me and then having to kill it; because the world tells me it is wrong... you tell me it’s wrong.  It is about realising the thing you are fighting for will never grow to fight for you. It is about learning that you are not good enough...for someone to love and to sacrifice for. It is about learning the true face of loneliness and realising that it is your own, because the hardest part for me is learning to be okay alone, with myself.

The monotony of heartache is the losing of oneself in the process of loving another and when that love ends or is not wanted, and the finding of oneself again. Where do I start? I don’t remember the way back. You’ve sent me away and I have gone, but to a place I do not know. I thought I knew you so well...but we are strangers in the night, our skin—our souls are stranger still. I speak your name and ‘nothing’ flows through my veins. I break, I fall, I cry, I call...only to realise that the truth is that you do not think of me. You have never considered me. The truth is that I have failed.

The monotony of heartache is the filtering of real life; as you are never quite there...drifting in fields of dreams... isolated from living, breathing, being. You will never hear the secret conversations I have had with you in my mind, or the countless fights and magical adventures we have had. You will never know how many times I have defended you. How my body was moved by your touch. You will never hear my moonlight confession. Instead all you will see is the fool I have come to be. A shadow of what I was before.

The monotony of heartache is the quickening in me to escape from you. I do not love you. I merely mourn for the person I saw in you. I mourn for the parts of me you will never see, I mourn for the dreams that still haunt me. I mourn for the hope you’ve extinguished in me. I mourn for me.

The monotony of heartache is the wake of the memory of you and mourning of me.

Killer Heels

My female academics, this one is for you

Graduation, the time in every academic’s life where for under one minute you are acknowledged for your dedication, resolution, resilience and in some cases (with reference to myself of course) masochism in completing a tertiary programme. Yes, it is a ceremony to show off your best ‘proper-suited’ self to loved ones, fellow academics and of course (an ode all those bitches in your year) a chance to swansong. Yet, at times this swansong can go horribly wrong and you may find that your ugly duckling has turned into a screeching crow rather than an elegant swan.

I believe that Jane Austin had it right with sense and sensibility. Sense, is coming to the event in your best attire and majestically receiving the culmination of those long nights of endless studying, piles of red bull cans and ashes of your social life. Sensibility, is making sure you don’t end up wearing a shoe that

a) Deforms you.

            b) Causes you to look like you’ve saddles a horse for hours until death and now your body has set in rigamortis, but your zombie-self has taken over.

            c) You’ve been perma-cast for LMFAO’s Party Rocker’s Anthem: “Everyday I’m shuffling,” across the stage.

I know that this may sound mean, but really consider this; you are walking across an elevated stage with the odds stacked against you.

You are wearing a ridicules gown that is made to resemble a bat cape and has one sole purpose in life, to cause you to trip and fall.

The carpet or floor you’re about to cross is a deathly contraption. If it’s a carpet, it is either new, or hurled out for special occasions, meaning increased likelihood that the ‘special occasion’ is the debut of your unique and dramatic interpretation of tumbleweeds. If it’s a floor, you can bet that it has been waxed or oiled to perfection...you do the math. 

Lastly that nine inch heel may give you killer carves, but it might as well be nails in your coffin of shame. AND GUESS WHAT? It will all be caught on camera as well.

In addition, if you’re graduating with distinction for Community and Social Work degrees, for the love of pizza, do not wear a leopard-print miniskirt, fish nets and purple high-heels it sends out the wrong message if you know what I mean, Happy Graduating!

Deliver me

(Inspired by Florence + the Machine)

You play me as a demon plays his pound of flesh. I am a fool and I am blind, but happiness hit me like a bullet in the back and I am dancing, doing cartwheels in your honour. And believe me when I tell you what I have become; you are the darkness before my dawn. It’s a fantasy and fallacy and you’re my tumbling stone. I choose to remain nameless, but call me when you need me. You are the hardest of hearts and a heavy heart that drags me down. Still I follow the heart-lines on your hand. But you kept me under and your fractured moonlight on the sea. I am at peace in the deep, in this cathedral where I cannot breathe; you never let me go. The stars, the moon they have all been blown out, will you leave me here in the dark?
But you had Jesus on your breath, that sweaty confession and selfish prayer. You say “this is his body, this is love,” as if I could get enough. We find it in the flights of birds, I have seen it in you,  there in enthrals of animals and the blood that runs through. You are the daughter of the rain and snow. But I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I am going to cut it out. You are the hardest hard to heart to translate, even with all my education. Still I wish to remain nameless screaming out this love song, let’s live without shame because what is in a name? Call us what you want. I have fallen from grace; I have fallen on my face.

I fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you.

Can you see the beast you have made of me?

And I will drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. You’re the space in my bed and I will 

your night time fear. My love, you were not much of a blessing, but can you keep it up? Holy water cannot help you now, or keep me out. You’ll be haunted by me, as I am by you. I am the body in the backyard.

Let us build our alter here. We are the damned and the divine...Deliver me

*I hold no ownership over the original works used here. 

Love?

Hello there fabled masses of the world; it is I Kaleb reaching out to you once more...

I have been somewhat absent from the mires of my thoughts for some time now, as the person I share a body with has been inundated with work commitments. But like a pirate I have stolen his ship for a while.

Today I would like to take the time to rant about love. It is a sore point for many and rightly so!

What is love anyway? It merely leaves you withered and broken. I mean, let us look at the reality of it all. You fall in love, your love is often rejected and then you have to climb your way out of that deep grave that you have dug. The only mourners at this funeral are you best friends ‘pride’ and ‘dignity,’ which you’ve pretended not to know when that false god winked his/her eye at you and flashed a smile. And do not for one second think that your road ends once you’ve scaled the walls of that deep grave...no, no, no...that’s when the real work begins. You see now you have to fix all the damage that freak train did to your world, changing the landscape once again; the driver and the train long gone. So you become bitter, jaded and cold during the day and cry like Bella Swan at night rocking back and forth to the mournful tunes of “There’s a possibility.” You promise yourself...NEVER AGAIN.

But then time goes by and you are really happy again. Suddenly a new he/she walks in and makes the world turn. You deny it, rationalise it and even justify your curiosity as “Don’t worry, I know what I am doing.” The truth is you don’t. But then you’re stuck in the movies together and the person you swore you’d stay away from is breathing next to you and you’re alive, again. Their presence in the world makes all the difference. This new journey erases the past hurt and you find yourself standing on that oh-too-familiar cliff edge watching the raging waters of whomever the latest craze is call like a siren song to you. Should you jump? That question is so engaging, but before you can even answer something happens and you fall once more into the raging depths below.

Yet is that not the point; that you, in your infinite wisdom and understanding and rationality, can through this single act of love find that you believe in life once more? It is the equaliser, the torturer and the reducer of grandiosity to remind you that you are capable of giving a gift so precious that even when it is unrequited you are never left the same. You have changed, grown and become so much more than you were before. You do it again, because it makes you ‘feel.’ I have always been a firm believer that we live our lives through emotions, but peace of mind comes from knowing where those emotions come from. Do not be afraid of love. Don’t fear its shape, form, colour and gender. It will not break you; only present you with a possibility, a possibility to dream once more.

Go tell them you love them. And if they reject it, remember that you have not lost anything but you have gained self respect and dignity. You have not denied your heart. And if the heart breaks, it will mend. It’s built for that. Hiding your heart only makes it weak, breaking it may only build a stronger braver you, but a ‘you’ worth loving yourself.

Dearest Reader,

here is a little poetry for you to read

Fondest Regards,

Kaleb.

Of these bones

Of these bones you will plunder, of these bones you will see. 

Of these bones you will whisper, of these bones you will come with me.

Often you will see me, 

Often will you wonder who I could be, 

Often you will tell me, who and what I should be. 

Often you will claim, that you can see, all that makes me, me. 

Often I will tell you who I am and what makes me, me. 

Often you will not listen and when you do it will only be for your own but's and maybe's.

Of my blood you will hunger, 

Of my blood you will feed. 

Of my blood you will become a lover, 

Of my blood you will bleed.

Never will you remember the gentle truth I've shared with you. 

Never will you endeavour to become more than my coldest enemy

Of my skin you will discover the soul that lives within, 

Of my skin you will remember all my sins that have left me thin.

And still you will tell me who I am and should have been. 

And who am I to tell you, when all you say makes you win?

And who an I to ask your forgiveness when all you believe are the lies within?

When my spirit sings no more and my flesh has turns to coal

When my eyes have seen their last and my heart stole

When we gather at the end of all, will you remember me?

Or will you remember the man you wanted me to be?  

My heart is broken

Dearest  Fabled masses of old.

Behold a piece inspired by my latest favourite song “My heart is broken,” form one of my favourite band Evanescence. Read this and envision it the next time your give it a listen.

The empress of night and shadow lay in fear-stain sheets as her bloody tears marred her white linen bedding. He had not returned to her side as he promised to do. She had to leave; she had to find her jaded lover who now battled the heavens to stay with her. She made her way from high tower-loft bedroom to the lower castle where should find the door. In her mind melodious angst tempered a storm brewing deep inside, “I pulled away to face the pain. I close my eyes and drift away, over the fears that I will never find a way to heal my soul and I will wander until the end of time torn away from you....My heart is broken...sweet sleep my dark angel, deliver us from sorrow’s hold: Over my hard heart,”  came her mournful soliloquy.

Her hand pull at the door when suddenly a raging gale sweeps it off its hinges as she flails to the floor. Ahead her eyes tear up in gaze of the battle she knew would consume her dreams. Gathering her strength she forced herself to her feet and exists the castles as the wind rapes her hair, sending it about her as angry whips. Her red corseted and black rhinestone encrusted dress ablaze with the dry red air that stole the night away. “I can’t go on living this way and I can’t back the way I came. Chained to the fear that I will never find a way to heal my soul and I will wander ‘till the end of time...half a life without you. My heart is broken, sweet sleep my dark angel.”

Struggling on into the bright red light of battle she fights the ferocious wind that threatens to steal her life. Her hopes and dreams are tied to this one moment. She must be what other refused to be. High above thunder crashes as she sees him battling one just like him. The angels rage as gods amongst men. He fights for his soul and for her heart. “Change-open your eyes to the light. I’ve denied for so long, oh so long...

...say goodbye, goodbye.”

A great light engulfs the heavens and clouds above and she shields her eyes as an angry thunderclap reverberates over land and sky. From the air falls a massive being, with tattered wings. Her broken lover lay before her barely conscious and she rushes to his side. “My heart is broken...release me I can’t hold on. ...”

The vampiress kisses her angel; biting his lip to taste his blood and feels is not-quite diminished life fill into hers. “My heart is broken sweet sleep my dark angel, deliver us from sorrow’s  hold.”