...waiting on an Angel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muF_0cIQBes&feature=channel_video_title

Mechanical Thing

Eyes look out from this cell, limbs of flesh and bone function mechanically on the hard black plastic, a puppet with no strings, I don't recognise this thing, sounds come, they echo of reality, is this whats expected of the shell? must it continue to function? they talk to it, they smile unsure at it, but it leaves no shadow from the sun.
Mechanical, mechanical, mechanical creature, what function do you serve? the space you occupy wasted, how long still?

We Argued

“You need to stop doing this to yourself” she said

“I need this, I need the pain, I caught myself feeling a bit better the other day, thinking about something stupid, wasn’t thinking about you” he said

There’s nothing wrong with you getting on with life

It made me feel like I had forgotten you, forgotten us for that minuet, the pain is the only way I can keep you here

Its shutting them out, they need to grieve with you

They all have someone, I only have these memories, and this pain

You will eventually push them all away

Im scared

I know

If I give them one bit of this love, Im scared it will take something away from our love, and I will loose a piece of you

They don’t understand, they think you are being selfish, you need to tell them how you feel

They are expecting me to move on, to find some way with this and returning to who I was as a person

Not all of them, some of them just want you to live, they will give you all the time you need, don’t shut them out

I can’t risk loosing this, its all I have left of you

You will never loose me, we are forever

I cant, im tired

Go rest, you need some company?

Always

I love you

I love you

I am flame

I am flame, see how many are attracted by my dancing light

you give me fuel for more to come, your eyes, my mirrors, I seem so bright

I am flame, I beckon you closer to feel my warmth

You come too close, I cause you pain

I am flame

A life cut short

The old man opens the projector room door, under his left arm he holds his life’s work, he enters the dimly lit room and places the reel down on the table near the door, closing the door behind him, he wanders over to the small peek window and looks down, the cinema below him is full of old friends and family, he can feel the anticipation and excitement of the people below, and it fills him with pride.

Everything must be perfect, they can wait a few minutes longer he thinks, he places the reel on the editors bench and looking through the magnifying lens, he winds the reel on, checking each frame one last time, such pride for a life well lived, he reaches to where would be close to half of the film but is startled by a dark figure emerging from the shadows of the room.

He cannot make out physical features, but the shadow moves closer, as it stretches out a hand he sees the blurred edges of a pair of scissors, and it snaps the film in half. “No!” he shouts in shock, but the figure gathers the cut film, turns, and slowly disappears back into the shadows.

Sitting stunned for what must have been more than a minute, the old man begins to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened. There’s a knock at the door “Ready when you are!” a voice calls out from behind the door, and he remembers the waiting crowd below, panic sets in, he rummages incoherently through the old cardboard boxes of film on the shelves in the room, knocking over boxes without care, he must find something to finish his masterpiece with, but nothing, not a single frame shot of there later years together.

Not concerned anymore about the waiting crowd below, he runs to the door, opens it and stumbles into the passage, down the stairs, feeling the deep red wall to wall carpeting burn his finger tips, he can’t seem to move quick enough.

Entering the foyer the smell of popcorn and the glares of the counter hands are left behind him as he pushes through the large glass doors out into the night.

Its raining outside, not hard, but enough to have turned the night street into glaze, the traffic outside buzzes past him, the headlights mirrored on the wet night street, he runs, almost falling every few steps, but as fast as his old body will carry him towards her restaurant, not too far from the movie house, she might be there, she didn’t want to watch the premiere with all of them, she had said, “the following night we will make it just the two of us, alone in the cinema, like the old days” she said.

Turning the handle on the restaurant door seemed like just another irritating obstacle that he had to complete before he could see her, but getting inside proved another waist of his time, and panic turned to frustration, no one at the restaurant could tell him where she was, she might be at home, in there apartment.

Out back into the night he pushed, his old body ached as the cold wet clothes clung to it, always practical, always planning there future around an elderly age, they had chosen an apartment close to her restaurant, and his movie house, but it felt forever, and the rush of adrenalin that fueled his body to the restaurant had now left him, his lungs burned with exhaustion, his heart pounded inside his rib cage, “Please, not too far now” he mumbled.

Sliding the key into the lock of the front door, he turned the brass knob and burst inside, ignoring the little white cats advances for affection he ran from room to room, shouting her name, nothing, empty, where could she be?

The cinema had no doubted emptied by now, he didn’t care about the film anymore, or finishing it, all he wanted was to hold her, and know that everything was alright.

He ran over to the window, slammed it open, the rain and icy cold wind pelted his old face, and he shouted into the night “Where are you! Where are you!” he was answered with only more wind and rain, he slumped down into the old chair next to the window, his body drained, he let his head fall into his hands in despair, the salty taste of his sobbing mixing with the rain on his cheeks crept slowly into his mouth.

“where are you” he mumbled to himself softly “where are you”

Memory

How can the clouds continue to move

How can the cars continue to drive by, the mechanical heads look left and right and drive on with life

How can the wind still blow and the suns rays still have warmth

Didn’t our love allow this place to exist, where is our love now? Is it in me, or is that just memory

The silence is filled with music in my mind, is this real? Or just memory, do you enjoy what I play for you in my thoughts, can you hear it?

I will play it again, listen my love, this memory is for you

Tuscan Sunset

The Tuscan sunset bows his head in despair, another day has passed, and your gaze of awe has not graced him, perhaps tomorrow? He thinks as he closes his eyes, awakening night.

But night knows, and she is sad for day, but cannot bring herself to tell day that tomorrow will not greet him with your gift, she embraces day in her cold arms and asks moon to shine a dim light of comfort.

Moon looks down expressionless, his face not showing emotion as he has promised night not to tell day the truth, but moon is brother of day and behind his still gaze his eyes well up and prays for the strength to keep this promise.

If day woke tomorrow and new you would never come, he would turn away in despair, showing night his back and darkness would remain.

Night would be angry with moon and send him away, there children, the stars would fall to earth hoping that day would pick them up and put them back with night, but day would not turn, his tears turn to flood and earth drowns, and life is no more.

…the Tuscan sunset wakes again, perhaps today.