Monday, March 27, 2006

Tabula Rasa, or how in Part 15 I climbed the mast and gazed forward forever more

There are no more soundtracks.

********

I was the sort to stop the train if I saw a tear and a waving hankerchief. I was the sort to pull the emergency lever for one more kiss, one more goodbye. Put off the trip, fuck the Call of Duty, what can possibly lie ahead that is as perfect as a bittersweet embrace? The unknown. Or better still, nothing, The Void, freefall and oblivion, no me and you, back and forth, just me. Forever.

So stop the train. Confuse the driver. Let them go without you and stay here on the platform until eternity itself folds and collapses around us.

Except, now I'm on a ship, and there is no stopping the tides. So I climb the mast and the wind stings my eyes and I bleed salt water from them. And the lurching of the boat makes my stomach a stone, and placing my hand on my chest I realise, shit, there is no beat beating inside. And I have left my heart on the shore, but there is no turning back to retrieve it.

********

Bitter and twisted and burnt and angry and filled with lava hot lava and hate and pain and sorrow and clawing at the walls and scratching at the windows and kicking the door and trying the lock but to no avail. I lie in the hold of this prison vessel, trapped and alone, fearful of where they take me.

And every hour on the hour I howl, an almighty, gutteral howl. And the wind cries not, though Mary doth occasionally bring me food.

********

I live on high atop the mast. The bosun brings me food and water, and tries to engage me in conversation, but I cannot tear my eyes from the horizon, nor my mind from the past I leave behind. I will stay here, closer to god, until I see land ahead, my fresh start. From time to time I repeat my mantra, "we are all made of stars, we are all made of stars" for it reminds me that all things will pass, though it reminds me of another, and a marking, and skin.

We are all made of stars.

********

I will not stop the violence. I will not take the dank surrender of captivity, the drama will keep me warm, cloak me in its aggression and feed the fire that keeps me sane. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

But when Mary arrives with my gruel and water, I bow my head in shame and thank her softly.

********

I smile at the parchment. The plans are complete! Two weeks I have lived on my mast and to ease my mind I had begun to design a shelter. The bosun brings me lumber as I smile, laugh and hammer. I build a larger platform, I build strong, sturdy walls and a bench for sleeping.

When I am finished I realise I will never have to descend.

I will live in my lofty house forever.

I keep building, I build a roof, I build a table, I place windows in three of four walls. I do not build a window in the wall that faces behind. I do not wish to look back.

The final piece is not a nail, but a white rose. Hung above the door. And it is then that I realise, I have built myself not a shelter, but a prison.

********

Carefully I take the rusty nail and incise my chest. I scream with pain. I reach inside, and angrily tear out my dead heart, placing it on the floor before me. It does not move. It mocks me. I scream and scream and crush it underneath my foot, over and over and over before,

I wake and crying, realise that it remains trapped inside me, as I am trapped on this ship.

I am tired, tired of fighting these walls I cannot defeat, tired of the drama of my own inaction.

I cross my legs, and breathing slowly, close my eyes.

********

I take down the flower. Careful not to bruise it. I hold it in my hands, sit cross-legged on the floor, close my eyes and begin to meditate.

********

We travel, our souls find each other and we travel, soaring over the water, both escapees of a self imposed captivity. We travel beyond the speed of thought, higher than God himself, further than the edge of the universe.

********

I stop writing. Smoke a cigarette and read it back. I spell check my own work, never allowing a machine to correct me. Exposing my mistakes for you all to see.

I do not cry. I simply switch off the computer. And say:

Bon Voyage.

2 Comments:

Blogger Djali said...

Oh no, not yet, not just yet. I haved waved and seen off too many tall ships of late. I have lost all my constants and soon I'll lose bearings.

5:59 PM  
Blogger Kay Adams said...

In the sun on the deck a pretty girl in a sundress asks if she can borrow a lighter, you light her cigarette with a baffled expression wondering where she came from, she gives you a wink and wanders away.

Your heart beats.

You thought you were alone on that ship didn't you?

You will never be alone and your heart will never die matty b.

x

6:18 PM  

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