Friday, March 17, 2017

Here I am

A nightclub where I performed, nearly midnight. She finished work and came to get me after my stint promoting a bikini competition and being the emcee. She arrived a little late and sat with her friends. I spoke to her all night. Upstairs between segments I was surrounded by fake tanned, plastic and superficial girls. All of them were taking to me like I was a modelling agent, I was merely a pawn like them. At half time she came to me and said "these chicks keep talking about you and I told them you're my man!" I was never happier.

We overcame the barrier of a title.

She hiccuped the sweetest set of words that could melt an iceberg. I was changed in a moment. The girl I had lost and found again, the "one" was back in my life and now she asked for entry to the wall I had put up. I was a willing candidate and a happy participant in what I felt and knew was true and unquestionable love. She was my all and I would not let anything mess it up again, especially the biggest problem of all, me and my jealousy. Anxiety is a big demon that likes to sit on my shoulder and battle the angels. The demon is very strong.

The Demon was there. The night she left me I remember one thing. I went to an empty room in my house, placed a full bottle of brown liquid next to my side and listened to Damien Rice, Jeff Buckley and the Deftones on a loop. I don't think I've ever cried so much. It was a memorable nothing, that meant everything.

I forgot how to love. It all died with her. The romantic, the songwriter and the poet all died in one session. Prior to this trainwreck that was I, when my eyes closed I painted music videos, songs and pictures of a happy ever after. When my eyes close now it is often forced by the bottle and I am taken to the darkness. My demon waits there for me. He is cruel.

I am no angel, I will never claim to be. I was hopelessly in love with the girl of my dreams and she was hard at work trying to forget me.

Reflections are interesting. I am in the best place I've ever been in my life, but what I felt that night where all my inhibitions were left at the door and I was a hopeless lover is now a distant memory and an unreal fallacy. I messed a lot up. Lots. My mistakes didn't make me who I am. My mistakes are my scars to bare and I visit them every day. They find me with a movie, a show, a segment or a song. Some may be adamant that I am a bad person. I don't think I am, because the guilt in me is real and the regret is monumental. I guess I was stupid. I don't really have an excuse. I've been accused of cheating and lying but I just laid back and took it.

No matter what we experienced we always found our way back to one another. I know that the notion of that is deceased. As that is wrapped up in a bag somewhere along with it my soul-it is tossed in an ocean to forever be forgotten and love depart with it.
I am happy in my life. My heart though, is hollow.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

This is not my life

Open your eyes my beautiful love.
Look within.
Are you satisfied with the life you're living?

My ideal present at Christmas was always togetherness. Family time and collective moments with the significant other. This year, the best gift I received was spending most of Christmas and Boxing Day laying on the floor in the middle of my classroom. So many thoughts running through my head. My Christmas morning started with visiting my beautiful Grandmother at the cemetery. That feeling was followed by seeing a young man get hit by a car. That set the tone for where my heart took me on Christmas.

Her eyes spoke in volumes. I could tell whatever was on her mind just by looking into them. Now my only means of communication is by seeing if she is okay through google. Call it stalking, but my heart was entirely hers. She  may have disowned it, but it still seeks her. As I see the pictures of her and her man holding a glass of wine, I clench a bottle and drink away my sorrow.

I've always been a proud, cocky and  stubborn man. People were not  allowed to witness me in pain or hear me apologise. How times change. My heart is clearly on my sleeve now. The boy has died.

I look back to all the mess I created. I deserve to be here. The place I'm current  in is surrounded by constant denial, alcohol and regret. I miss her sweet sound, her faith and belief.. I wish I could change so much, but all I can do is think back to the happiness we shared and feel happy for just those moments. I re-read the letter that concluded this adventure and I visit that day in my head. I ask why, but know it doesn't matter to any other soul in the world.

Why the Christmas note? Well, I need To make you realise that Karma found me. I don't want any sympathy nor do I want anyone to even read this, I just hope that happiness exists without me. Each day is misery, the music was killed and I can't even remember who I own mother said she doesn't remember the last time she heard me laugh or saw me smile. I have forgotten those basic human functions. The autopilot is switched on. He takes me where I need to go until the next drop.
Some say that A change needs to occur, but I'm too weak. I don't deserve a change.

I'm sorry, I love you and I miss you. You hear those words and let them change you, it's when you wake up and realise they were a dream that they destroy you and your core.

Monday, November 11, 2013

A L W ...always

Some poets or literary figures marvel at their transgressions and mistakes and how they have shaped their art form or enhanced their outlook on life. It's the old saying about mistakes get us to where we are. The lesser of the artist world conquers the error driven ways of our human hearts as the traditional 'everything happens for a reason' blanket. No ideology is correct when it comes to actually proving their validity, but we can question the what if's and see what our own perception makes of it all. Johnny Cash said he built his life around failure, using it all as stepping stones from which he grew. George Bernard Shaw said that a  life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing. Both artists in their own respect and both lived great lives.
I think about where I am now, personally and professionally.

Would all this be the same if the love I found was still by my side or would it be all warped?
I know what I would prefer, but I doubt that will ever happen again. A big part of me knows that my life wasn't the bright light after all the mistakes, it's the mistake after all the bright lights.

Today I awoke and it seemed like a lifetime since I looked into your rare eyes. Again, I felt a massive hole in me, a void unmatched by anything I have ever experienced before. I don't know what to do. I re-read the letter. You told me to be strong in it. It was all I couldn't be. Can I look at your writing etched into my skin forever and not think about how much you meant, wait, how much you mean to me! The words of a song we always analysed late at night finally means something to me. The meaning was meant for you.

I watch you change and fly away from me. Never have I listened to a song I loved so dearly and remember my dear true love. Irony is a swirling theme that resonates deep within my core. Is this my karma?

My fingers tremble as I seek your online presence to give me a self assurance that you are happy away from my embrace. I sit in the corner of my classroom and hope no one witnesses the tears escaping from what I think is my soul. I remember gentle strums of the guitar and the angelic voice you treated me to every now and then. The talent in your heart and the passion that made me love each breath you took, and hated each moment I didn't hear it. Each time you sang, goosebumps found my skin. I loved your smile and your touch.

I loved, I love you...
but I pained you.

I remember the fear in your eyes when you read a post on this blog. I was emptying the vessel for our memories. It was a release, and for that I will forever be sorry.

Realisations are an interesting part of life. Like a chord, the emphasis we placed on a song is like the happiest times in our lives. They last within us forever and they make us feel like we are the only people on this Earth. I was lucky to experience so many glowing moments with you. The epitome of a perfect song. The perfect note I will always be chasing, you, Amy.

I look in my wallet. The receipt is battered and bruised, somewhat reminiscent of my heart. This ring was meant for you...

Sunday, September 8, 2013


“Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person.”  - Gerard Way

The beat is racing as the next song approaches. The smoke is clearing as the mic is switched on. A small echo fills the room from my forefinger ring touching the microphone. I can see the stairs waiting patiently, much like the audience. They're not here to see or hear me. Maybe one person is. I'm not nervous to entertain, I've done it before. I'm nervous to see her stunning eyes watching me. As I look at the converse plastic touching the timber of each step leading me closer to the stage I think about a million things in less than one minute. I have too many thoughts to try and make sense of one single idea. This weird feeling commences. What is it? I'm nervous and scared, anxious and sick. I reach for the bottle. This always cures everything. One sip doesn't cloud the emotions, the tense feeling grows. The sip becomes a mass consumption of two bottles in less than a minute.

It's gone. I'm alright now.

As I stood on the stage that night, the world was not there. Just her. Those amazing eyes and the cheeky smile that drew me to her all those years ago. It was then that I remember the first time she saw me perform, at this moment I realised how hard it must have been to listen to the 'music' I was making in my band. Still, she was supportive and never put me down about it.

As the night went on, people did not appear, the attention was only between two people. The biggest part of me knew this was too good to last, so I had to enjoy it while I had it. In each moment we experience in life, one of 2 things can happen. You either remember it forever or you forget it shortly after it has ended. I have forgotten so many moments in my current relationship, I could honestly list 2 moment I remember, and they would be very vagues.
Those moments from her and I in the past resonate with me forever as each of them ended with me holding her. My face buried inside the curls.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Something with numbers

Holden said it perfectly. It's not who you love but how. Stuck in misery, you often take those few moments at night when you lay in bed and you forget all the dismay sharing sheets with you. You linger behind closed eyes and wonder what if and why. I was asked today by a six year old student if I could change 3 things about my life what would it be. Never has a child inspired such deep thinking with such a basic question. I didn't answer him straight away, instead I thought about it while I asked him to share with me his 3 wishes. As expected his wishes were about iPads or pods and new shoes.
He then reiterated the question as if as though a greater force was controlling him.

I said 3 of the most honest things. I told him I would return to 3 moments that changed my life forever, the moment I took for granted, the moment I lost her and the moment I died. He said I was silly because I was still alive, and although he was right, it made me realise the darkness in me has created an amazing mask. It can't be seen. The me that died has completely vanished and a fake, lively version has filled the hole.

The moments I see when I close my eyes make me wish to keep them shit for eternity. The life I'm in is that of a prisoner, but with no yard time. I am looking back wondering where the wheels came off and all I can see is a friendly laugh infectious and rare.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Knfe Prty

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” 
― Kahlil Gibran

How do you tell that person that lingers in your every thought a few simple words?

I saw him. The man who wishes to speak.
A cold stare in a mirror, trying to let it all go. He watches the tears leave his cheek and hit the old basin where his beard shavings reside. Tears in a suit are usually reserved for funerals, but this is just the start of his day. His work day, the only thing he holds dear.
He is dying to tell the story of the girl that believed in him. The girl he believed in. The once notable notion of what he thinks was true, but the sheer feeling of happiness is long forgotten and much like love, he feels it was all a cruel dream. A life he once cherished, now a burden to bare.
He is living a life he knows shouldn't be his.
This is not him. He has spent so much time on a love that clearly wasn't his.
The lines on his face may disappear with a single smile.
A real smile. A phrase he no longer knows, much like the emotion's sign. Being the guy before the right one comes along wasn't something he planned in this journey.
A broken person in this mirror. He occasionally feels some excitement for what may be fun, what may be her music. Cold reality comes creeping in. This is not right, he says. This is not me, he thinks.
He falls to his knees, in the back of his mind he is slightly worried about dirtying his suit pants. He knows not why.
Living has become somewhat a chore. He looks for paper and pen to write the letter they need to read. He has no interventions and no shinning suns. Hands are shaking and the words just can't find the paper. If he does this he will hurt his mother and... he stops and thinks. He can't think of anyone else who will be truly affected by his departure. This life is a disaster and it stings.
He composes himself and realises he must go on. The White Pony runs through him and calms his nerves. One more digital bath and the change will happen.
The reflection gathers momentum and takes his thoughts. It reminds him of how excited he was to see her. It reminds him of her silly faces and beautiful eyes. He thinks of the last time he saw her out the front of his parents' home. It was not a goodbye.
He wanted to thank her. She brought joy into his hollow life. A love that was unmatched and memories that he will cherish forever.
As time passed the fact that the time neared that he had to let her go was bigger than he thought. The closure for him was evident but also very final. His reflection spoke again.
It said the truth he has avoided.
You had the chance to truly love. You felt something many people dream about. Open your eyes to everything that doesn't involve love and find comfort in solitude.
It's time to be alone and die alone.
The writing was always on the wall, time to choose to see it.

Monday, July 15, 2013


When the night comes I think back. I lay in a hollow bed that I share with someone who is a passenger on this vacant ride. I look at her and think of someone else. The intimacy doesn't exist and the tension grows daily. This routine has become habit and plainly put a disease. I just closed my eyes and saw you and wished I had held you more and reminded you I love you each and every day. We wasted so much time and this situation and feeling are a result of me and my actions. Just one more night would let me rest in peace, just one more night to tell you the millions of things I miss. I don't know why and when but it went wrong and I ache not daily, but in each minute I ache. You can't change what has happened but it's doesn't hurt to wish. Just one more time in front of you playing music..for you.