Shitloads of fullstops.

You kept trying. There was already so many graves, so much buried down because it didnt come out right. Babies that couldnt breathe. At it ate at you. Everyday. But you still tried. Somedays you failed. Somedays you tried harder. You took time. You stuck around. And bit by bit you put together all the mold you needed. It was hard to find. Because there were only bits and pieces left. You know, there’s not much green left after a fire. But you got it together. One spun the wheel, the other shaped the clay. You didnt know how. But you learned. Everyday. A little more. Progress. And then it fell apart. But you kept trying. And your hands got dirty. And you sweat. And your mind hurt. It tired you. You stepped back. You looked at it. It looked good. You had to display it. There wasnt much color left around you. So you made some. It wasnt perfect. But it was bright. And real. Because you put your heart and you soul in it. You painted. And some of it dripped off. But it looked good. If you looked at it right. It wasnt the monalisa. But it was yours. And you wanted to plant a tree in it. Someday it would grow and spread its leaves and shelter you. It would be the tree you would sit under in the heat. Because it was made out of all things good.

But look what they said. Break it. Why. Because. But i made it. Of course you did. Which is why you have to break it. But i dont want to. Its mine. But you have to break it. Quick. Do it. Do as we say. It echoed. It wouldnt stop. You were tired. Break it. Okay.

It has to be broken. I know. I understand. We’ll break it together. With our hands. And you did. Bit by bit. It fell apart. It felt alive. But you had to. Because they wouldnt stop. The echo. Your hands bled. But you smiled. Because this was the last time. Because you had to. And then you buried it. And they all looked away. They got their way. As always.

It didnt want to be buried. It wouldnt remain silent. It screamed in its resting place. And it echoed too. They looked away. Only you could see it. You could hear it. So you closed your  eyes. And your covered your ears. You could smell it. You couldnt stop it. It was strong. Because it hard a part of you in it. But you had to let it go. They didnt see what they did. They didnt want to. They smiled. Because they didnt look in your eyes. They didnt know what they said. They had no clue what they’d done.

Its still there. That smell. The light. That screaming. That part of you you buried. But you have to live with it. Because.


16 responses to “Shitloads of fullstops.

  1. Pingback: Shitloads of fullstops. | Tea Break

  2. the pain stops. the screaming stops. it exhausts itself.
    and then someday you’re ready to start building again. with someone else. someone who’ll fight to protect it with you.

    trust me on this one.

  3. why am i the CRAZY OLD WOMAN?

  4. youre the shrink, you should know better! 😀

  5. just because. 😀

  6. you know what i love about you and absar? you’ll have like 15-20 comments (30-40 in his case) and 80% of them will be your own 😛

  7. hahaha thats cause we reply to every comment. We’re nice, not that you’d know what thats like!! 😀

  8. hmmmmmmmmmmm 😛

  9. far out

    this made my heart sad … 😦

    stupid head.

  10. i suppose that was the intended effect.

  11. and i like it how in the very first comment on this post, hira basically took all the mystery out of it. haha

  12. also.

    i suppose. you’re a monkey.

    how about that then!

  13. lol i didnt realize there was any mystery in it in the first place! Now that youve mentioned it, youre right, there was some. 😛

    monkey’s are way more intelligent than kangaroos, so whatever, skippy. 😀

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s