One big empty promise
Subject: My ex
Rating: One star
Comments: I wavered between one and two stars - because the start of the relationship was so promising. And also, because it always takes two to tango and one star is rather letting myself off the hook. But for anyone looking for an emotionally available and caring partner - keep looking. This is not it! He's not interested in change. Every time you bring up something that bothers you, he immediately invalidates it and makes it a you problem.
Want him to go to more family events? His solution is that you have to drag him there kicking and screaming and deal with his resentful petulance the entire time you are there. He'll also hold that over your head for the next two years.
Go to something without him? Be prepared for a series of guilt inducing messages about you abandoning him and leaving him all on his lonesome - like the monster that you are.
Rude to your friends? Well he just can't be bothered to say hello. That's on you for repeatedly inviting them over.
Intimate relations? He will never instigate (but apparently if you 'grab him by the dick' he's always ready to go), he's very unbothered by your pleasure and he says if he has to wear a condom he won't enjoy it at all.
Foreplay? Not a fan. He'll spits in a bowl while going down on you (sure to make you feel hot, hot, hot)
Quality time? Him playing the PS5 while you sit there quietly.
Life admin? Your problem (he doesn't like talking to people on the phone, so enjoy hooking up the internet, dealing with the real estate agent, plumbers and any other life admin people.) It will also be your job to pay the rent and other bills
Cleaning? If you do sign up for a relationship - please make sure you have your own bathroom - because he won't ever clean it, but boy will he make it dirty.
Holidays? Wants to stay in a five star hotel (that's way above your budget) but doesn't want to pay more than half the bill. Also, never wants to eat at normal times, so dining is an absolute nightmare
Dates? See 'quality time'
Birthday present? $5 yoga mat from Kmart (after many, many hints about wanting a yoga mat)
Bedsheets? Never changes them, not once. Will go brown unless this is also a job you are willing to take on
Night out? On the rare occasions this happens, he'll get very drunk and want to punch someone. Not you, but really anyone else. Or a telegraph pole. He also does this gross thing called 'tactical vom' where he sicks his fingers down his throat and throws up. You'll probably be giving any night out one star
New job? Right after a brief congratulations he'll go out and get a better job, with a more impressive title and larger pay check, because it's very important to him to always one-up you
Dinner with friends? Be prepared for worried looks from your friends as he continuously puts you down and says unkind things in front of them
Grocery shopping? Wants to go down every single aisle, every single time, to see if there are any special buys
Overall? One big empty promise
Positives? Is currently single, on the rarest of occasions that he cooks, it's quite delicious, faithful, handsome, funny, can be quite cute, very intelligent, but also a complete idiot
It’s gonna blow
For weeks I've ignored it
Reaching around it
Overlooking it
Actively avoiding it
But now, it's demanding my attention
It's straining at the seams
It's bulging like a bloated belly
It's ready to explode
Curse my procrastination
And inaction
And depressed malaise
With gentle fingers
I gingerly touch it
Wary of it's hair-trigger
And threat of violence
I hold my breath...
But it does not explode
Gently, I ease it from the shelf
Treating it like a fragile thing
As delicately as a baby bird
Then with smooth footsteps
Like a cat burglar on a roof
I glide to the door
With acute care, I am through
There stands the dustbin
Just ten feet away
nine - down the step
eight - foot on the driveway
seven - avoid the neighbours gaze
six - long to itch the end of my nose
five - steady now we're almost there
four - oooh that was close
three - breathe, breathe, BREATHE
two - so close now
one - Oh darn it
The milk missile explodes
The void
What is it?
This nothingness
And can it exist,
While I ponder it's existence?
Does it vanish on being considered?
And can nothing really vanish
If it wasn't ever there?
Or is it something so alien,
I cannot even fathom it
While I am here - violently alive
I have often thought
That death is nothingness
The moment my consciousness ends
There will be a void.
A sweet release
From the agony of life
The restlessness of feeling,
The drama of being an emotional creature,
Of a constantly changing body
Of the stormy reality in each breath
But even in death
The atoms that make up my body
Will remain
Slowly decomposing
To their raw parts
Until they are free.
Free to form some other thing
A plant, a rock, a fledgling bird
As I am made from past things
They will be made from me
So is there truly nothing?
I'm not sure
The question writhes in my mind
A curly question
The answer evades me
I can convince myself it's there
Then talk myself around
Some ideas are too complex
For my simple mind
Just too quantum to comprehend
My mutti
I have not always honoured you, as I should
Or been grateful for your endless love
Which was there on my most wretched day
The truth, for what it's worth, is I didn't understand you
I believed the poison dripped into my ears
By society and by my father
That by staying home to care for us
You were somehow worthless, lazy, stupid
I made fun of your German accent
When you pronounced words like chair or chicken
With all the blithe cruelty that children have
Oh how I wish I could take that back
You were there at every graduation, every concert
When I was sick you took me in your arms
And embraced me - wrapping your body around mine
And not leaving my side until my health returned
As I grew older, I started to notice you more
As a woman, as a person, as a friend
Hilarious and kind, silly and serious
The one constant in our uncertain home
I watched you pick up the pieces of crockery
And our hearts that lay on the floor
After Dad smashed them.
I lost count of all the times
I remember when we ran away to town
And stayed in the apartment of your friend
You and four small, frightened children
Trying to make him understand
But your family were oceans away
And you trapped by ropes around your heart
Your credit card, your children, you could only go back
Endure and bide your time
Years passed - in a series of storms, ever more violent
You waited - two kids left home
Then four, and you quietly made your plans
And one day you left too
Twelve years have passed
And with it, so much hurt
But you have survived and endured
And kept that wicked sense of humour
I think I understand you better now
And I love getting to know you better
My mutti - and it is the great joy of my life
To finally watch you thrive
Goodbye my lover
It was your eyes that first caught me
Moody brown, with a hint of violence and pain
They were catnip to my anxious heart,
Which yearned for that familiar ache
In those first weeks I was shy and giddy
High on the uncertainty of it all
Addicted to the thrill of not knowing
Desperate for you to feel it too
That first kiss was ecstasy, validation
Satisfaction after months of inner turmoil
You were mine. We had ensnared each other
Frantic and inseparable, drunk on desire
I blithely threw logic out the window
And surrendered my heart to you
Oh how right it felt, to know your scars
To see how they mirrored my own
For the first time I didn't feel broken
Or less than, or too fucked up to love
I didn't have to explain my father's temper
Or my fear of slamming doors and raised voices
At first, to be with you was pure bliss
We giggled, we played, we cooked
We travelled to foreign lands
We went to parties in fancy dress
We made a home together
Your TV, my plants, our furniture
Dinner on the couch
Groceries in the fridge
I don't know when the love started to die
It happened so slowly - it took years
Perhaps it was the moment we signed the lease
Or the first time you wouldn't visit my family
Maybe it was when I was ignoring you
Because I was afraid that if I opened my mouth
I would shout awful things, like my father
And see the hurt in your eyes
I tried hard to make it work, to make it better
But I didn't have a voice then
And a thousand small resentments festered
In the pit of my stomach and love turned sour
Still I tried, I don't give up on the people I love
Even when they make me feel small
And stupid, and like a waste of space
So I made excuses and tried again
And I know I hurt you, it was all I knew
Barbs and an acidic tongue
No-one ever taught me how to love
With grace and gentleness and respect
No-one taught you either
That is why we were doomed
It's not enough to have matching scars
When you are still drowning in their pain
And so we imploded
We smashed each other's hearts
We mauled each other's scars
Then ended with a whimper
I know better now and I'm sorry
I am grateful to have loved you
But I'm also glad to say
Goodbye my lover
The cabin
The darkness is complete. No chink of light under the door, no golden glow emanating from the key-hole. Just an absence of light, of colour, of objects. The air is heavy with carbon dioxide and thick with the sour smell of sweat. The ship bucks and rolls on the short, violent waves of the North Sea, lurching in one direction and then another, but never still.
In the aft, the engine growls rhythmically, spreading it's vibrations and the smell of diesel like spiderwebs - all the way to the bow.
Two bodies lie in the cabin - entombed by the darkness, buried in the bowls of the ship, below the waterline. One is snoring, her raspy breaths barely audible above the snarl of the engine. The other shifts uncomfortably on the lumpy foam mattress, her brow beaded in sweat, trying not to drown in the waves of nausea. She squeezes her bloodshot eyes shut and tries to succumb to the rough lullaby, sung by the sea, the wind, the engine...
On deck, the gaffe sails are pulled taut by the wind - and the masts groan under the constant tug and release of pressure. The crew are huddled around the helm as the icy fingers of the gale tug at their jackets and scarves. Some gulp hot, black coffee, enjoying the acrid burn as it slides down their throats and warms their bellies.
To the west - the sky is inky black and pocked with shining stars. At water level, artificial lights bob up and down on the waves, attached to their respective ships and gas rigs. To the east, the sun is shyly making an appearance on the horizon - a pink and golden glow creeping ever upwards and outwards.
The first mate peers into the dusky distance, searching for the next channel marker - red or green. Waiting for her eyes to focus, she spots the blinking marker and adjusts the helm slightly to port to keep on course.
It's foul weather to be out in - and even with the engine cranked to full, the ship is barely making way in the headwind. She's been moving at a little over a knot for the past few hours. The first mate looks at the shadowy faces of the crew - pinched from the cold, dispirited by the hostility of the North Sea.
She hopes that dawn will bring longer waves and fairer winds, but she knows better than most that they will be at the mercy of whatever weather the new day brings.
Helianthus
What could be more glorious,
than a flower draped in gold?
Bright, cheerful, named after the star
that gives it's warmth to us all.
Ahh the sunflower.
If ever a flower had it's cup half full,
It would be the one that salutes the sun
No matter how much it moves in the sky
A sunflower rejects the shadows
To bask in the golden, life-giving rays
A lion's mane, a shining star
A bloom with a halo
It evokes a smile from even the most dour passerby
It is joy in plant form
Oh to gaze at a field of sunflowers!
A delightful feast for the eyes,
But also also a nutritious snack
Salt those delicious buttery seeds
And they pair perfectly with a cool, fizzy beer
Beauty and function bundled into one
Other flowers may be more subtle
More delicate and perfumed
More architectural and complex
More fussy and fleeting
But the sunflower warms my heart
It or me
I stared into those awful eyes. The creature stared back, unblinking, it's eyes round, and gleaming black - I saw my own face reflected back and shuddered. This would only end when one of us was dead.
It's hideous, hairy hide made my skin crawl and prickle. Was the creature's stomach hairy too - or was the skin there pale and bald? The thick shag continue all the way down down the legs, where it took on an almost velvety quality. Two sharp black claws poked out from the fur at the end of each leg. Claws that allowed the creature to defy gravity - to climb where no living thing should be able to climb.
The creature had let itself in to my home, my sanctuary, my safe space and had been waiting for me with a chilling patience. Where it came from - I might never know. But I was desperate to avoid those merciless fangs. The thought of them sinking into my soft flesh filled me with such dread - I remained frozen as long seconds dripped past.
But, I knew the kind of death that awaited this creature's prey. It was slow and painful - victims were often immobilised with brutal efficiency - and then eaten alive. Slowly I gripped my weapon. I had one chance to strike a stunning blow. If the creature jumped or attacked first, I knew my courage would fail me.
Taking a deep, jagged breath, I calmed my jangled nerves. And committed murder.
But, as I threw the roll of newspaper and squashed spider in the bin, I didn't feel the slightest contrition. After all, it was me or it.
And then there was light
Shadows creep slowly from the corners of the room. Outside, the last golden rays of sunset disappear in the dusky light. On the table, a candle sits vertically in a tarnished brass candle-holder, flecked with drops of wax and a thin layer of dust. The man crouches in the darkening room, head cradled in his rough, leathery hands.
The door creeks open and a shock of curly hair appears from the gloom. There's a faint rattle as the boy's young hands push the thin cardboard box open and a scratch of red phosphorous as he flicks the thin wood of the match against the comb. With a hiss, the head flares to life - casting eerie shadows around the room. In a second, the burst of white flame shrinks to small golden orb, with a hint of blue - rapidly munching the sliver of white pine.
The boy holds the match gingerly to the blackened candle wick - waiting for the heat of the flame to melt the wax - and jump to feed it's insatiable hunger. The match is almost spent - just a powdery, shrivelled stick of black - and the flame is licking at the boy's fingers.
The wick catches, just as the boy drops the match to the table and grunts with pain. The flame started as a kernel, but as the wax vapour rises, it flickers and grows. It grows and flickers. One centimetre, two, three. The candle dances on the wick, a thousand different colours and none at all.
Satisfied with his work, the boy retreats behind the wooden door to scratch about in the kitchen for something to eat. The man sighs. The candle dances.