This is life in colour

September 28, 2014 § Leave a comment


Two nil and you fucked it up, two nil and you fucked it up, two nil and you fucked it up, two nil and you fucked it up.” 

And just like that I was back in the game. I found myself humming and clicking my fingers and nodding and just, only just feeling it again. That feeling, that lonely rush, that heat. It had returned. I’m not sure how long for. I’m not sure if it’s here to stay and I’d wager that it’s not but I’m fine with that for now. Back to licking my teeth and laughing and those wild eyes moments with smile and the hair and blood. “This is life in colour” I’d think. Gone are those dark days of the black and the white. Poetry is back in my blood. It’s not that I feel young. It’s not that I feel drunk. It’s that I feel hopeful. Hopeful for more. Hopeful that it isn’t over just yet. Hopeful that the down I was on isn’t the one which puts me through the floor. Hopeful that when it comes to be I find myself heading skywards. There will be bumps and scrapes and drops but I’d hope to find myself, at some point, levelling out a little higher than I started. Until then this is Bruce Springsteen. This is the shift and the haste in my blood. It’s the hope, oh god the powerful, twisting and dancing blood in my veins pulls at my limbs like a warped puppet show. I go with it. Why fight this feeling? Let it take you. Let it ride, let it go. Oh god. They chase this you know? They hunt and they work and they get out of bed at 6am to feel this. This rush. This Saturday night peak. The one where you blink and feel and love the bones of each and every person you see. You close your eyes and you let it swallow you whole. I had a dream about Herman Melville last night. I had a dream that this friends told him his idea was stupid as he stacked paper upon paper upon paper of draft and lost thoughts and stream of conciousness literature as he fought to put his idea down on paper. Something he wanted the world to see. His legacy. Like Van Gough, he would never know. He would never see the fruits of his labour of his love of his toil and his sweat and his blood shed and the sleepless nights and the fighting. Fuck. It’s all here now. A legacy to leave behind. I think I’ve got it. I think it’s done.


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