memory

Love monsters

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

Love makes monsters of us
And even the cutest little things
That pushed you towards it to begin with
become as irritating as people chewing
With their gaping mouths like hippos.

You hated the way I ate bananas,
Because you could hear me biting it
And I,
I hated so many little things that
They became one big thing
And that’s why we eventually sought others
Or maybe that’s a fiction.

There’s an interesting divide between
Fiction and the real
And I’m never quite sure which side
Memories fall on.

We certainly invent stories
That serve to fill the gaps of memories
But we never remember how much is real.

King Kong, Dorian Gray and a hungry squirrel

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Your arrows don't hurt me,

intentional or otherwise,

they strike my thick hide,

and lose all momentum.

 

I'm strong enough now,

after all my incredible failures,

and the moments I could have,

died.

 

I'm rebuilt,

reborn,

reanimated.

 

I'll read it like a script,

because I know who I am,

as much as anyone can.

 

I've become something,

changed,

difficult to capture;

a lightning snake,

as thick as the moon,

with the strength of King Kong,

and the audacity of a hungry squirrel.

 

A moral compass like Dorian Gray's,

slowly changing,

but for the better instead.

 

You won't understand,

anything I've written,

but it's not about you,

now or ever.

A lost relation-friend-ship, from long ago

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

There was sex, sleep, conversation, and art. There was no love. We did not even love one another improperly.

The art was tired, and made in the spirit of fun. Art is only art when it is expressing an emotion. We expressed our humourous side, with a slice of our inner happiness.Happiness took its foot of the gas occasionally, and the remnants of past glittered with pain in the pupils of our eyes.

The sex was never tired, even when we were. The conversation never struggled, but never went much below the surface. Sleep didn't matter.

We existed this way for months, in between relationships, ex-lovers, and competing friendships. One day it broke, and we may have spoken a total of three sentences each since.

Even broken friendships are worth remembering. Some things that glitter lose their appeal too soon.There is an abyss of lost friendship, and conversations that should have happened. 

Sometimes we dance on the edge of both love and friendship. Sometimes we are too broken to dance.

The house never wins anymore

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

I used to walk,

calmly,

on wires,

formed of the sharpest,

and strongest toxic metals;

brilliant.

I used to charge,

unprovoked,

through walls,

made of powdery,

bone-dry concrete;

unstoppable.

I used to stumble,

drunkenly,

through life,

weaved from broken,

and shattered dreams;

failing.

I used to be somebody,

you’d remember,

when the chips were down;

the house never wins anymore.

telltale love

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

 

A divine comedy dances,

on lines etched into flesh,

long ago by the crimson beauty.

 

A foggy mirror reflects,

beams of radiant moonlight,

through the evaporating tea and milk,

 we used to drown all of our problems.

 

There's no cycle here,

no spinning wheel to,

repeat the same story.

 

There's nothing to reinvent, 

no foundation for this to ride on,

and no carriage pulled by wild horses,

symbolic of our deepest desires and dreams,

now withering and dying in the cracks of love's floor.

 

No heart beats,

beneath floor-boards,

of cryptic, rotting elegance,

to alert the proper authorities.

 

Something is screaming,

deep within my soul however,

and I'm begging for an outlet;

It will die between these lines.

do you still dance?

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

I wonder what memories revive,

when you touch my hand or see my face.

 

Is what is old new again?

 

Are you lost in pillars of memory,

which impose the will of this broken architect?

 

Do my building still stand strong,

tall,

beautiful?

 

What power emanates from them,

and what force of will overtakes you,

when the sun catches their corners?

 

Do you still dance in the great hall,

of our lost, and broken-down love?

the weight of loved ones

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

Skin,

eat this water.

 

It is necessary.

 

Warm , salty water crawls,

down chiseled cheeks,

rolling off a hero chin;

no sustenance. 

 

Jets of hot water slap,

my thick hair and blank face,

my skin refuses to drink it in.

 

A ghost walks into my shower,

observing the way I am curled up,

helplessly soaking in chlorinated fire,

no chemicals kill these feelings or memories.

 

The ghost sighs,

unable to affect me.

 

A lonely time,

with delusions for company,

and the weight of loved ones' feet,

pulverizing my fragile, fleeting sanity.

Numb floating

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Numb,

floating,

helpless,

splitting the water,

as I drift,

towards nothing,

significant.

 

What matters?

 

The tears,

touch down,

on paved street,

reeking of asphalt,

and blurry memories.

 

It was never enough.

 

Heels echo,

in crowded corridors,

where the rug tries to muffle it,

and fails miserably.

 

Pressed shirts,

dark pants and ties,

a gathering for a fallen,

cherished and loved one.

 

Pain spikes through,

the numb feelings that,

reside in fractured hearts,

pouring blood into your soul,

swelling it with pain and bruising.

 

Life's not easy,

and every loved one,

eventually leaves,

until you leave them.

 

Cold reality,

and I love you,

don't ever forget that.

 

I hope I don't,

leave you first,

I couldn't bear,

the thought of you sad,

on my unworthy account,

my dearest of friends and loved ones.

 

Times are tough,

and they'll get tougher still,

but we hold hands and heart,

and rebel against death the best we can.

 

That's the only way.

a special day

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

1:03,

and it's a special day,

a big dawn coming for all.

 

We will remember you,

always,

memories of you,

indestructible,

vivid.

 

I remember you smiling,

in no-so-distant flashbacks;

your benevolence changed us.

 

An angel passes,

we must all grow stronger. 

graveyard of your past

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You built your present,

on the graveyard of your past,

and didn't flinch.

 

I hope you enjoy the lonely path,

with the ghosts stuck to your ribs,

tearing at your empty heart.

 

The past can't hurt you anymore,

it's paid you back the favour,

you're abandoned,

left with emptiness,

a soul-death.

 

The only thing worse than a broken heart,

is an empty life in an absent world;

you call it home and walk your path,

alone.