Introducing 100 Days of Melody – click to read what it’s about.
Day 1 – Beginnings
Ringing silence and we do not know where to look, we do not know what we are looking for, we do not know life and how it breathes and how it moves, we only know the rocks that break and the fire that burns and the wind that swirls into massive storms, we do not know the first spasm and the twitch, we do not know life and what it is and how it looks.
We look for something we don’t know but there is so much of that already, so we look for something that smiles back and understands our touch so we feel warm within, and we find life snug in a corner, unsure of what we are but willing to listen, the tiny ears taking in all they can, eyes etching us into its memories as we talk of the endless and the vastness and what it would take for life to be free.
Day 2 – Fumble Mumble
A hurried question, a breathless kiss, glance at a watch, hesitate, feet shuffle, a car whooshes by on a moonlit street as you take off on a fantasy flight to the highest fucking cloud above you and him and the wet air and you are back in that moment again. Blush of a summer in December, fumbling with the words which seem right, speech is a bitch when eyes do the talking.
Day 3 – Exploring Trails
In the wilderness, neon lights amidst the dense foliage pull me onward.
Day 4 – Grind
You know what it’s like. Start, Stop, Repeat. You know what it’s like. Dip, Crunch, Repeat. You know what it’s like. Push, Gasp, Repeat. You like what it’s like. Fast, Faster, Repeat. You talk about what it’s like. High, Higher, Repeat. You love the feel of a grind. Never sleep. Repeat.
Day 5 – Flashback
You have been here before. But you hesitated. And now you are back again.
Pull the damn trigger. Shoot the fucking doubt. End the loop. Flee.
Day 6 – The Pursuit
The path mocks if you stare. Elusive strain of a stubborn poem dares your gut. Kick the cat so it can live again. Another smoke to die again. Fly some more. You are in pursuit of the perfect verse. She stirs, she moves, she bounces off the walls made of air you have built. Lost in your delusions. Crumpled like your sleeves. Musty like your books.
And she turns and flies right into you with the passion of a cannonball. You see why the cat dies. You see why you lived. You see your hands black with ink. You feel her perfect gasp, and the firm grasp, for she has you now, and she has you naked. She won’t have it any other way.
Day 7 – Daydreams
Hand me that glass of wine, this song is divine, loopy ribbons, goofy tunes as we clamber on to the high skies. Hand me that guitar, let me learn how to play, the strings are a joke and on the grass we lay, on that winter night, dreaming of the sun so far away.
Hold my hand, keep alive that wonder in your beetle eyes. Let’s fly.
Day 8 – Float
Everything has always been. We merely float in and out.
Day 9 – Little Sid
Little Sid was a sure footed bird. She weaved a red as much a blue. Knit black and white closely into grey. Sketched a sun and the moon together.
She loved the dawn as much as the twilight. Never the noon, never the night.
Day 10 – You are You
I know what you are, a metaphor, a poem, a mirror and a gentle ear. At times, my worst fears or my wet fantasies. You are my paper boat in the puddle, my hand shielding eyes from the sun. You are the jacket that I pull close on a cold night, and the odd note out of tune when I sing. You are the marshmallow in my hot cocoa, my toothache at the worst possible moment, what I nibble on when we make love. You are my stare, you are my giggle and everything I hold on to. You are everything I love, and everything I made myself hate. I made you. You are my person.
100 Days of Melody #2 – Second 10 – this is part two.