Companion

Companion

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A blank stare into the past brings images of your face, that somehow start to scramble and soon make no sense.
You never got to be my companion as the thought of me simply repulsed you so much.
I saw you years later and since you were unaware of my short lasting company, I could drag that moment of pain for a bit longer.
I’ve since found my companion, or perhaps I was found by it. No it’s not another human being…
It’s the cumulation of the pain I’ve gathered through the years, both physically and mentally.
Pain is my companion and it’ll be until the day I die… At least I’ve got a companion, some would say…

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Written in response to Daily Prompt which can be found here

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Open

Open

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This gate is open and it is open so wide that you can almost see and hear all the demons of my past cursing and cast spelling simultaneously.
The door to my soul has been left open for so long that all that remains inside, are just randomly scattered particles of the dust of the past.
The book’s wide open… I’m still writing it although I realise there is less and less substance and more and more bitterness that spills out of my battered soul…

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Written in response to the Daily Prompt which can be found here.

Simplicity

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Simplicity

I yearn for a handful of simplicity to invade my complex life to help me find my inner peace.
I really can not stop thinking of the old days’ simplicity where neighbours were friends and not strangers that need deciphering.
I wish each shop would sell simplicity in various quantities that would fit many needs that various people have, when navigating the maze of life.
Complexity, richness in detail, long formulas hard to remember, are all good in art and science where mind needs to create…
We lack simplicity around us as it is taught to us to be boring, plain, vague and not worth any time committed to it.
The thing is… In this world full of rules and regulations, mass medias and entertainment, art and science what we really miss and what really stops us from moving forward is the simplicity that we try so hard to remove from our lives as an unwanted item…

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Written in response to the Daily Prompt which can be found here.

Connected

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Connected

There is a titanium rod that is connected to part of my body, deep inside, invisible without advanced technology…
There are screws, 9 precisely, that are connected to that said rod, untouchable without some painful interference…
There is another rod, placed not far away from the first one and it also has 9 screws that were connected with care and precision…
It could have taken just one unnecessary move, a move that could be an accidental one, to make me feel disconnected from my body…
It didn’t. As there were steps and moves among the thoughts and actions all connected in one harmony to make sure that I’d not feel disconnected…


Written in response to Daily Prompt which can be found here

Playful

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Playful

How can my playful be seen as abusive in your eyes?
How can his playful be treated as not being serious in her opinion?
How can her playful be assumed to be a sexual invitation in his view?
How can one’s playful to be treated as trickery in eyes of another person?
How is it possible for playful to be so many other things other than just that?
How we got to live in a strange world where language and people’s own life experiences make communicating as challenging and rewarding as frustrarting and costly…?


Written in response to a Daily Prompt that can be found here

Childhood

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Childhood isn’t necessarily what we think it might be.
For some childhood is a dream that they try to turn into a reality.
A little girl wants to be nurse- a young woman graduates from nursing school…
For some childhood is the time of little worry and a lot of laughter.
A little boy playing pranks on his parents not worrying about telling off, as he knows they still love him- a grown up man with a family and a job becoming a comedian on Fridays evenings…
For some childhood is an act of discovering and hard work.
A girl finds a crystal and is fascinated by a flash of light it produces- an old woman receiving Noble Prize for development of new meaning of propulsion…
For some though, childhood is a cuddly toy dressed as fear and a worn out book which titles says ‘Survival’.
A little boy or a girl trembles in a shadow- a grown man or a woman still trying to survive the never-ending childhood’s nightmare…


Written in response to Daily Prompt which can be found here

Angry

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The powerful flame of that dreadful feeling finally reaches the end. I don’t know what future holds for me and I don’t even know if it’ll make me angry…
I want to be angry as it somehow means one is still fighting…
I don’t want to get angry as it means one still suffers…
I am not afraid of being angry as it is part of humanity…
I am worried about getting angry as it makes me lose a bit of me…
I suffer as anger from the past burns a hole in my heart…
I am settled and content as the past anger turned into hazy confusion…
No one tries to be angry but all of us sometimes just get angry…


This entry was made in response to a Daily Prompt post that can be found here

Angry

Circus

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There is a street called Piccadilly Circus where several roads cross their paths bringing variety of beings to the same spot.
Each day and each night thousands of stories cross that spot hailing from all the corners of the world.
There is a street called Piccadilly Circus where many cultures exchange ‘good mornings’ and many generations share ‘goodbyes’.
Each day and each night hundreds of lovers cross that path and hundreds of thieves run away from that circus of life…

And there is a street which name is only known to you… Perhaps it’s your Personal Avenue or maybe it’s a simple Life Intersection or more complex Soul Circus but as long as it is not a Dead End I believe you are going to be fine and figure it all out… Keep well traveller.


Written in response to Daily prompt that can be found here
Circus

Blank

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She used to blank me. Day in day out, she’d treat me like I wasn’t there or like I was some unnecessary item in her surroundings. Now she’s gone, she’s not here.
When I stare at a blank page in my life book that is still being written, my mind goes completely blank when I try to bring her vision back just for the last moment of the old, stale pain it’d cause me.
I never had a chance with a magazine full of blanks. Never! I don’t know why I even tried but back then I had a purpose, or at least I thought I did whereas now it all seems to matter not no more. Not for me nor for her.
New day begins, go out and fill that blank page with content that is worth remembering, don’t leave that day as a page where all your memories have gone lost…


In response of Daily Prompt which can be found here.

Blank

Orderly

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Orderly

“We need an orderly” shouted the theatre nurse- “We really need one as there’s some cleaning up to do”.
The shouting and general buzz weren’t any distraction for the surgeon who was closing the incision orderly. There were no signs of chaos or fear as the unconscious patient’s life was slowly being turned around without any input from him, himself.
“Orderly! Orderly! Where’s one when you need…” the nurse didn’t finish the sentence as the life monitor went crazy noticing all the theatre staff that something wasn’t right with the patient whose life was in their hands.
The surgeon who always used to be known as an orderly man, lifted his head and stopped his task to look at the monitor. Something wasn’t right but he needed to investigate first a bit deeper. He decided to change the side of the operating table to have a better access to all the tools. He didn’t notice a bit of spill on the floor, he wasn’t aware that an orderly was called to clean up, he just felt something wasn’t ok in his orderly plan of the day as he slipped and lost his consciousness…
The patient didn’t survive. The orderly finally arrived and the nurse wasn’t shouting anymore…
And I wasn’t sleeping anymore when I realised that it was only a nightmare caused by my disorderly thoughts causing the never ending anxiety.