Paths along the shore
Taken in Hermanus where I grew up.
Memories stir at scenes from years ago. I remember walking these cliff paths, and how the tides still tug at me.
There is no name
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Frustration an agony unable to create anything powerless to capture the something shadows the raw emotion of being like answers that flit from view insubstantial impossible to snare I sit in snarls futile impotent fingers clutch a full pen stubbornly withholding its thoughts an infinity stretches lined and white and empty waiting : tabula rasa this whispered challenge to forge legacy are you up to it can you face the gauntlet of creation the discipline to shape a life to make when faced with infinity how will you efface the onslaught of the ordinary how will you answer the only question:
Hellpine //DESPITE
I haven't seen an animal in days. Even the birds are still, and flit from view before I register them. Sometimes a high branch quivers with the ghost of one. What has happened here? What does the forest remember? Some horror, up ahead. Anything. Anything's better than the crushing silence. Bring on the blood rust abattoirs. Bring on the meat eaters. The long empty between rigid pine trunks. Ears prickle at the softest sounds, the rustle of my coat, the hint of footpresses on the needles in thick brown layers. Nothing moves. I cough and I scare myself shitless the sound it's like a gunshot. When my heart settles I find I'm still walking. Still in this eternity. Nothing moves. The wind is dead. Hell's supposed to be a fiery pit of endless torture. But I read once that hell is nothingness. I remember; a short bark of laughter when I read that. I’ll take numb over pain thank-you-very-much. Didn't understand. Now I understand. Hell. The fo...
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