'I love you according to my bond'

It kills me when I think like this, but the only reason you're still in my life is because you have to be. Over the past few years you've been slipping away from my heart, and the cord of familiarity is shrinking and shriveling.
After you rouse my boiling frustrations, my heart is heated, aggravated by the flames of searing guilt as I know that such thoughts are against my bonds. But why are you so purposefully spiteful to me?
Do you care? Do you want to help?
We are one, in a sense - I am you and you are me - so have some respect for a part of yourself. Despite my precautions, you still push me further and further away and soon I won't come back. It's exhausting knowing you. Stop wounding me. But each time I prolong our meetings, I prolong confrontation; one last stand is in order - but will I ever come to face it?

Fear overshadows my vexation; fear devours my bleeding heart.

Let me breathe. Let me heal.



Copyright © JRFB 2012 

Loving Through Lies

"What use is there in saying 'I love you' when almost instantly preceding this I think,      'I despise you. Burn'?

For you and I, there is no distinction. Whatever is conjured within my torn soul - shredded by your malice - punctures my enflamed heart, now swollen from your toxins. It is no use resisting, for you return, uninvited - a phantasm gently reaching for my spine, splicing my soul from within.

Freezing fires kill me; revive me; hold me.
Screaming with echoes of euphoric horror as I 
watch your scythe draw near.

My lungs, drowning in your cruelty, draw no air,
My breath evaporates - my blood dies - 
Eyes remain - petrified, molten:

'I mean no harm, I have come to love you'.

Every    
             word    
                           scolds      
each twisted hair on my corpse
scratching deep into my soul.

Air abandons me;
- I do not blame you -
now the fires steam as they
die
All that remains is my broken soul
                                                        - it reeks of death
scathed, black, putrid 

                                     by your simple touch -



Let me out. Don't come back to me, you keep me from my dreams. I do not want you; Love does not want you.

 But love cannot simply be brushed onto empty pages".








Copyright © JRFB 2012 

Life: an entity we can all enjoy

Life is something precious. I feel that we sometimes forget this, overlook it,or focus solely on what isn't going right. Life can be guided and misguided; shaped and re-shaped; lit up and distinguished. My Life is something which I have learnt to value very much. Although I am fortunate enough to have never experienced a mishap which would alter my way of living for the rest of my existence, it is this reason that I feel blessed to breathe the fresh breeze every day, to feel the pulse of the Earth under my toes.

 Of course there are those days where all rational thinking about the sanctity of Life is lost, and I much rather would stay enclosed, stuffed between the bed and the duvet, blocking the Sun and all other sources of vitality from my clouded mind. I have appropriately called them my 'Dark Days'. They occur approximately once a fortnight, and everything seems to crumble to lonesome, fragile dust and self-pity (and loathing). I seem to forget that this moment is fleeting and I will soon return to my headquarters of optimism, golden hope and a genuine adoration for the spiritual connection between Light and Life that I feel when everything is running smoothly.

Life is exquisite, differential, purposeful; but only if you allow it to be.

Every day, having been roused from the bed of dreams where my soul is allowed to explore beyond the 'limitations' of Life, I seek to discover an intention for my waking, a reason for my rupture of sweet slumbers. I discovered this: each day is different, therefore each day there is something different to live for.

I did not have to look far, for I did not even leave the house; gazing at the burning Sun, inhaling an air of light, darkness, joy and sorrow, I realised. The slight tittering and fluttering of morning birds, ecstatically soaring around the sky, seemed to burst into lurid colours: deep greens and browns surrounded the light, bursting like works of fires, shattering into burning shards of feathery glass. There; the smell of recently mowed grass, sharp and sweet like an exotic fruit juices invaded my nostrils, overcoming any doubt of whether to turn of the light and retreat back into sweet sleep. 

This beauty, this euphoria, these sensations which Life provokes within, surely make vitality Victor in this battle - a skirmish between dreams and reality day and night, light and death. Yet, on both sides, the adversaries seem to drift together, blurring any such boundaries between them. In short, there is no distinction. Life is what you want it to be; it may indeed be lived through Death, or Imagination or Midnight Hours.

Each day I try to perceive Life as something new, a Friend, a Lover, a Stranger - all are equally as satisfying a seach other. All are unique. 

I adore Life and its changeability.This is the beauty of Nature, of the Soul.

Copyright © JRFB 2012