Eighty Two

She was here.

Sure she was.

She left her scent,

I breathed her in.

She was here.

Sure she was.

She left her mark,

Across my heart.

She was here.

So sure she was.

She left her soul,

In my safe keep.

She was here.

I knew she was.

Nothing more than empty creases in my bed.

A coat, still. On its hook.

High heels, abandoned askew.

The simplest things remind me.

The littlest things undo me.

Nothing more than dust on a perfume bottle.

A handbag, empty. Pillaged for essentials.

To do lists, started not finished.

The simplest things remind me.

The littlest things undo me.

Nothing more than the flash of a memory.

Images of perfection.

You, my endless love.

Side by Side.

The world rushes by.

Separated by little.

Protected from everything.

Safe from nothing.

Stopping.

Starting.

Reversing.

Parking.

Single file.

Four abreast.

Blinding lights.

Winding tails of red.

20th Century freedom.

21st Century addiction.

Me and My Machine.

Grief invades.

Slows time.

Waits for the quiet to fall,

To sing its lament.

From the hush,

Distant Reverb.

Felt in body and bone.

Bass gives to melody,

Melancholy in flight.

Swooping and soaring,

Their echo tells,

Of a hollow chest.

Volume fades,

Lights dim.

But on,

On,

On the bass aches.

The rhythm of misery.

 

World changed, but not.

Everything static, but not.

Must be my eyes, my view.

Me who’s changed.

Words clearer.

Subtle tones, intonation,

Now audible.

I take more.

You give more.

Deeper I go.

Simpler it is.

Choice or fate.

Do or Don’t.

No questions.

Only answers,

Upon giving answers.

More knowledge,

More power,

More control?

My unquenchable thirst.

Strange, the ways you take hold my thoughts.

Mundane to magical.

Transforming landscapes of the day’s dreams.

Shaking the hills out.

Fluffing the clouds.

Smoothing the surface of the water.

I watch you work.

Focused, humming.

Caring, nurturing.

Sustaining, sculpting.

Soothed by the calm of your meadow,

I relax.

Sit beside you and breathe in the vista,

A glory of your creation.

You fade.

Colours dim.

Once more the mundane settles.

Unaware, you flicker through my mind.

Eyes become heavy, unfocused.

Drifting away from reality.

Reels are changed.

Images crackle into life.

This world has softer edges.

Familiar territory.

You are poseable, mallable and indulgent of my desires.

You take your place, your cues, in my fantasies.

You are the woman.

The woman in my mind.

Deep in the days dream,

My body responds.

Willing you into existence.

Closer than reality can ever bring you to me.

Stillness.

Silence.

Comforted by the hum of electricity.

Illuminated by the screens glow.

Muscles loose, rested, ready.

Aural senses primed.

Blinking occasionally,

To prevent arid eyes.

Hope breathes anticipation.

Adrenaline waits.

Creeps into position.

Ready to breach at the command.

The hum continues, drones.

Soft glow flickers.

Hope falters.

Connection lost?

Left leg, Right leg.

The body will follow.

Create your own rhythm.

Get swept away.

Put your back into it.

Reach.

Push yourself over that line.

Through the line.

Win.

By a mile.

By an inch.

By one thousandth of a second.

Momentary satisfaction.

Raise your head.

Do it again.

Do it better.

Rest if you must.

But Quit?

Never.

A smile.

My knowing satisifaction.

My milkshake moustache.

A Spring.

My jaunty stride.

My preening strut.

A confidence.

My arrogance.

My secret.

A kiss.

My moment.

Your stage.

Shifting in the worn velvet.

Finding the legroom.

Engaging in an arms war with neighbouring parties.

Lines drawn, territory marked.

Blackness stretches and yawns.

Curling an arm over your shoulder.

Panoramas of unimaginable mountain ranges surround you.

Your body sinks lower, seeking comfort.

Feats of heroic, epic proportions play out.

You urge your chosen idol on.

Hope is offered…

Crushed underfoot in the twist you never saw coming.

Time rushes on unnaturally.

Propelling you to climax.

Let it last.

Answer all my questions.

Feeling cheated.

Bereft.

Your willing suspension of disbelief departs.

So thats it so far....

Everything below is my handiwork.

An expression of my moment.

Please feel to comment, though I ask that you are honest but respectful.

Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope that you find something below that makes you come back.

Take Care,

Riggs
x

Around you I'm two people.

The one you see lives on the surface.

She's the one you trust, the one you like, who makes you laugh.

The other lies below.

Look deep into my eyes and you'll see her.

She cares not a bit for how you feel.

She just wants you for her own pleasures.

Deep inside, I keep her contained.

Its not a side of me you want to see.

I feel her coming to the surface.

Trying to switch places and I push her back down.

If I let her surface, she'll strike.

Take what she wants, leave you lying there.

Breathless.

Exhausted.

Spent.

She will use you up and walk away.

Then the other has to clean up and apologise.

Its a battle.

One you're not even aware of.

You are blissfully ignorant of the instinctive lust you provoke.

No idea what you've awakened in me.

My demon slumbered peacefully, soundly until you.

Now she rages.

Against my chest.

Bellowing for freedom.

To be released...

To taste you, explore you, know every inch of your glorious body.

I keep the gate locked even though I dont want to.

I have no idea how you will react.

Maybe though, it will all be too much.

My demon will overwhelm me...

And devour you.

The future is a gaping black hole into which my present is disappearing and no one knows where it goes.

Some say its a blank canvas.

Waiting for me to paint my masterpiece.

If thats the case, show me to my easel.

Or more importantly, my inspiration.

It stretches ahead of me, the lonely desert road, on which anything can happen.

Despite the 360 panorama, you still don't see it coming.

Careering into you, leaving nothing but wreckage on your highway.

No tow truck in sight, you start to gather the pieces and remember when they all fit together.

Fix it or replace it, but you must choose.

You must keep going.

The loud tick tock resounds in your head.

Every heartbeat is another second passing!

Once I knew where I was going, once I had a travelling companion.

Now no direction, no company.

Sadly liberated I am.

Joyous at my new found freedom, forlorn at the loss of warmth and safety.

As time would have me do, I march on.

Try not to look back, to see it all shrinking behind me.

To know I'm leaving it all behind tears at my heart.

I don't want to forget, but I can't survive in a world built of memories.

I follow the painted white lines, pushing forward.

Excited at what may lay over the next crest in the road.

I find people and places to stop and pass the time with, but still I need to press on.

Marching forward, leaving more and more behind.

Putting enough distance between myself and the wreckage to allow myself to heal.

The new rhythm I have found is oddly comforting.

Trance like, I walk on.

Waiting for a signpost to show me my next destination.

How can two things in the same place behave so differently?

Less than a foot apart, but for all intents and purposes, in different orbits.

My head and my heart.

A contest of logic and lust.

Both capable of stopping the other in its tracks.

Of assuming control of the body them are in.

Like the flick of a switch, one picks up where the other left off.

Yet harmony is possible.

Protecting each other unknowingly, unwittingly.

Maybe they do know.

An unspoken agreement that runs in your blood.

As one pumps the lust around, the other controls the limbs filled with passion.

Its a system of sorts.

It works.

Mostly.

Except...

When the tension is too much.

Electricity snaps and sparks.

Cold showers of logic can no longer douse the flames.

The mind swims with images of lust, drowning in passion.

Silenced into submission by the furious beating of a heart that knows what it wants.

A fresh page in so many ways.

Yet, there are indentations, from the page before.

Marks left by those who went ahead.

I am who I am because of it.

And it feels great.

Following with my hearts lead.

Not scared nor fearful.

Love is no longer my enemy.

I embrace it as my life source.

Addicted to the passion that infects my brain, acting on desires and intincts.

Disengaging my mind.

No thought.

Focused on my wants.

Indulging every delicious feeling.

Butterflies.

Tingles.

Goosebumps.

And that grin, seeming stretch permanently across my face.

It feels real.

Like truth.

Not perfect.

Great and raw.

A want not a need.

I'm hungry for her.

Passion burns for her.

Consumed by the flames and every nerve is alive at the thought of her touch.

I don't question.

No fear of the pain.

My heart beats for her, accept it.

Embrace and enjoy it.

For if it breaks, I know I will not.

Well, well, well.

I've done it again.

Its all over.

The end has come, never mind nigh.

And it was I who brought it about.

Digging out from the depths of my emotional coma.

Enough is enough.

Give me my freedom.

Give me my independence.

I will choose how I live.

Not governed by your moods or schedule.

When you wan to start a brood.

Free to speak, to sing....to do as I please.

With whom I please, might I add!

Not answerable to your whims.

The price I pay is that of friendship.

You've fallen from grace with me, but now you wrest away my friendships?

I will not engage in a power struggle for those people.

Starting afresh.

New people, without divided loyalties.

People unswayed by your ability to stage a drama and hold the attention.

Time to start again.

All is fair in love and war.

The endless struggle.

One battle defeat conceded.

Their truimph momentary.

My honour in defeat touched her.

Softened her for an instant.

And she let me fall.

No ache when I wake.

Contentment, peace and all consuming happiness.

Surely it cannot last.

One act will suffice to betray me.

So many ways in which she in perfection.

So many times better than me.

Only years older, but decades wiser.

My educator for this ear.

How long will she rest with me?

Before she seeks better.

If she lies with me, the enemy.

Is there anywhere she won't lie.

If you are the bitch they say you are, then you are good.

You got me.

I got you.

In my bloodstream.

In my head.

Crawling beneath the surface.

Making my skin itch.

You made all the right moves, said all the right things.

And you kissed me with an intensity even I couldn't miss.

You played me like I play them and this abrupt 180 has fucked me up.

I want you.

Me and my ego think we can have you.

And why the fuck shouldn't we?

I'm already paying the price for your need, facing the consequences of your fucking actions!

Not mine. Yours!

What was it?

You can tell me...

Boredom?

Horniness?

Power?

Those reasons I could understand.

But what if you said is true?

You are gay.

Then its the saddest thing I've ever heard.

You bailed on who you are.

Because its lonley.

Hard.

You're an accidental straight.

He will never do it for you like I can.

He can never set you free.

Realise yourself, find your wings.

Follow you soul, the body will come.

Know who you are.

Don't be afraid.

I will be there.

Right here, right now is where I needed you.

You tore my heart out and I was supposed to deal with it.

I didn't.

It nearly killed me.

You.

You nearly killed me.

I gave you so much and it wasn't enough.

And now what have you got?

Heartache and pain.

You never suffered like that with me.

You always knew where you stood.

You still do.

That's why you come down here...

Creeping into my world.

Because you're scared of yours.

I protect you here, I take it all away.

I fuck you like no one has before.

You come because you need me.

You need what I've got.

I gave you what you needed and you say "I can't. Not now."

What?

Am I not convenient now?

I don't earn enough?

I don't fuck you over enough?

Or is it just because you are all that I want?

You play me every which way, you know we can never be friends.

That line is far behind us now.

We've got too much between us.

Lust, need, safety, truth and Love.

Don't let yourself forget me.

Don't let me walk away.

You'll always wonder.

Just so you know...

It was.

I always wondered what if would be like to start there and work my way back.

I want to see the moment I die and fit together the pieces that led to my demise.

I've imagined it a thousand different ways.

How would I die?

Who will discover me?

Tell my parents?

Tell my friends?

The people I passed?

Who will react and how?

Will I suddenly become a saint, good person, student and friend?

Would I be "outed" in death?

Would the horrible truth of me be revealed?

I plan to be the centre of attention when it happens.

Throughout the impact, aftermath and mouring of Riggs.

So do I count the days?

Work, rest and play...

And count?

Or do I count on love?

Rough, unreliable, rude, brusque love.

Or do I count the days?

An orange glow bathes the cobbles.

A crisp, cold wind buffets the old city.

Buildings loom large in the darkness.

Hard concrete wards off the uninvited.

In the shadows the unknown waits.

Yet it lets many pass.

Shrouded, cloaked in mystery, it moves on.

Relentless.

Driven by the fates.

But who's?

Your or mine?

Its emotive power is felt by all.

Not understood or seen, feared and anticipated.

We wait as the shape of the path is carved ahead.

For us to follow.

I will walk with you.

We will walk into the night.

And emerge in fair day.

To prove that it may be done.

Never to be undone.

We shall forever know we walked together.

Stood as one.

And striding on, we were victorious.

Its complicated.

Its always complicated.

I saw you, I liked you.

We talked and we danced.

We drank and we walked.

Your hand in mine, life stories told, amusing anecdotes swapped.

I felt something stir in me that was missing presumed dead.

Exciting and new and I want to seize it in both hands...

But I can't.

You're involved.

You have someone.

Foundations are built.

All you offer is friendship and I did, I thought I was fine with that.

I'm not.

My body is on fire, you and I dance, you against me, we move together and there it is.

In your eyes.

I saw it.

Feelings reflected.

Yet it is a case of deny, deny, deny.

All I feel is the urge to take you in my arms and hold you safe, to take your breath away with my kiis.

I can't.

She has you.

And I have as much as I am gifted.

Is that the pull?

The draw?

I can't have you and thats just what I want.

A mind in turmoil, heart conflicted.

See but dont touch.

Touch but dont kiss.

Kiss but dont love.

It feels so wrong.

I take what I want but I wont this time.

Friendship Vs Love.

All I know is I want you in my life.

Though I pray I'll make you mine.

I only ever see you from a distance.

Even when I'm sat right next to you.

You'll never notice the effect you have on me.

I keep telling myself it's just a little 'crush'.

Its not.

You're everywhere, in my mind, body and life.

I spend alot of time gazing upon your face.

I dont understand your attractiveness, maybe its your beauty.

Maybe its your body.

It might as likely be your mind and spirit.

But I'm stuck here.

I can't move and its fair and its right but still...

Still I try to reach out and touch you.

I need to move back and away.

To a distance greater than my desire.

I am no fool.

I don't call it love in confusion.

I know.

I know what the prescence within me is.

It is a dark emotion.

The want of lust.

The obssession of passion.

Its merely a dance we do, stepping around each other.

One leading, one following but neither knowing which.

You are my dark secret, my object of passion and I gaze on you with lust.

My soul does not seek yours.

Our sensuality is what drives us.

I crave the touch of your skin to mine.

Your lips against my lips and our energy focused.

One night of lustful abandon for a lifetimes satisifaction.

People are people.

Nature dictates.

Pyschology observes.

Always motives.

Not always clear.

Dig a little deeper, I invite you.

You may find what everyone else is looking for in you.

The mirror can't, and won't, tell you what it is.

Locked deep in your subconcious, is your event.

Your incident.

The very thing that shapes your thoughts, your views, your perspective...

Your very rationale.

You may not feel the shifts occur.

The slow shudder of tectonic plates.

The mind alters and we are changed.

That is life.

Moments and connection that will change your perception of reality until you see it no more.

Your absence is the hardest thing in my life.

For so many years, I was so close.

As close as could be.

I wanted you so badly that my mind was spinning, heart banging hard against my ribcage.

But once I got close, there was little I could do about it.

There was nothing and nowhere for us to go.

I was in love.

You were curious.

I was supposedly older and wiser.

You were young and inexperienced.

It was all the right feelings at all the wrong times.

But allow me to defend myself.

I wasn't alone in this.

You were responsible too.

I didn't just act on my own emotions.

I acted on the 'something' between us.

Yet, you took the moral high ground and I...

I was cast into your cold dark shadow.

And here I lie.

Still very much in love with you.

Praying for those short glimpses of our profile or the movement of your hair as you twist.

All I have left after two deep dark years is the thought of hope.

I refuse to give up on you.

I long to hear your voice.

Read your words.

And feel your skin on mine once more.

They're matching your steps,

Aren't they?

They stop when you do,

Don't they?

But of course you can't hear it.

Their footsteps are a perfect mirror of yours.

Its all in your head.

Isnt' it?

They've got a point though, who'd want to follow you?

Follow you through the dark night.

Down the road.

Over the crossing.

Through the menancing shadows of the park.

Leaves rustle.

Twigs snap.

You stare madly and blindly in all directions, for a glimpse of what the mind sees.

So clear.

Are they there?

They've followed you for years and done nothing...

Maybe they'll leave you alone if you stop worrying about it.

Or maybe thats what they want you to think?

Light leads you wherever you go.

Looking out to the horizon that disappears ahead.

Do you know where you're going?

Do you know where you've been?

Do you know where you started?

Does anyone know why?

And for what?

For love?

For family?

What do you what from life?

What does life what from you?

I have what I need.

Or do I?

Maybe I just don't know.

I'd like to get lost on an island or just in my head, in someones soul or the arms of embrace.

To sit in reflection and quiet meditation.

If I take this path..

Right here, right now.

Will I get where I'm going?

I follow the light and see where it goes.

There are always words to say exactly how I feel.

They tell the tale of my most delicious of desires, darkest of passions and deepest of fears.

Always words, does the action lack?

From the top of the mountain, I shout.

Nothing left to say, so much to show you.

You said "I will" but the ring on your finger speaks louder.

Let me show you...

Let my lips meet yours, flooding you with emotion, tasting your heartbeat.

Giving you mine.

More said in that moment than in a lifetime of words.

Let my ring show you the way, show you the strength and security of arms.

Let my kiss seal my vow forever.

The autummn is coming, you can feel the crisp edge to the air.

We're ready for the next installment of life and you just never know what you're going to get.

But we know we're cool.

Problematic that others dont.

I'm sorry, you cant come in unless you conform.

So children...here are the rules of life...

Go with the crowd, never ever veer from the norm and for God's sake, do not assert your individuality in the face of society for all to mock!

Do this and you will be accepted...

Part of the herd.

Its what we all want deep down.

I mean, who wants forrays into the nights dark alleys and sideways slips into petty criminality, just for the kicks!

Not us, I hear the masses cry!

So we're not like you, its ok.

You're making us look good.

It them or us, what'll it be?

A life like everyone elses, or one of your very own?

Does anyone deserve the truth?

Does anyone ever tell the truth?

I mean, honestly, whats a little lie between you and I?

So I tell you I love you and the things that you do.

When as a matter of fact...

I cant stand them!

But I know if I was to tell you, then there'd be a fight.

Who knows if we'd heal again?

So you see my friend, life is a lie.

If it wasn't you'd be able to answer why?

Count on love, count on death and of course count on taxes.

But if I lie and tell you why...

Where will you be and what will you do?

To say I love you conveys the wrong meaning.

To tell you that you're like family seems not enough.

So I try to show you Icare about you and all that you hold dear.

By standing beside me through all of the storms.

By holding me tight when I need it the most.

Loving me like you've known me all your life.

You with, I'm me and how I long for the day we can be free.

I trust you.

I care for you deeply, but most of all...

I just really like you.

Strange conversations and random events.

Without you, my life is a little darker, a little sadder and far too normal for anyones good.

You are the best man I know, I am proud to be your buddy and all round chum...

After all, its been nothing but fun!

Never lie to me.

Do not bullshit me.

I know you better than you think.

Play your poker face and I will call your bluff.

You talk, I begin to anger.

And when the inane words don't stop falling from you, it turns to rage.

You call yourself my friend and still you lie.

Don't.

I am too strong for you.

I will leave you cold in my shadow.

One day, with a careless moment, I will look back and you will be naught but a speck on the horizon of my past.

I trusted you and you abused that.

Its over now.

You are at a distance and come what may, the fact that you lied will reside with me like a criminal record haunts the rehabilitated thief.

Too many chances have I given, too many times was I spurned.

Live your life and regret.

I will rise up and over you and the jealousy, rage and envy will be yours.

Pigheaded pride blocked your path to redemption.

I hope you find the stupid, tolerant and patient of our species, for you...

You are too little a person for I.

As I sit and look upon your face, I see the layers fall.

Your features become clear.

It is not truth, but your reality bared, exposed.

Secure in you, warmth envelopes me.

This feeling invades me and my body gives itself over to you.

Flooding my veins, my heart soon fills...

Beating with yours.

Permeating the defences around my soul, we merge.

Your eyes say you understand.

A smile.

The air crackles around us with the connection, a bond that can never be reversed.

This is our moment, pure and untainted.

Will there be more or will the end draw close?

To soon and to fast for us to see?

Hatred stirs my emotions.

I look into your face and I feel revulsion.

You drove me to the brink of madness and as I stand here on the edge, I hear the call of logic and reason.

You are saved by mine own good grace.

I breathe deeply and walk away, and yet...still you taunt me.

Always wanting the last word.

Well, I should be the bigger person...

Fuck being bigger.

I want to destroy you and all that you love.

To tear through your life like a rhino on a rampage.

Once I've finished there will be nothing but my prints all over the wreckage of what you pathetically called life.

Have you ever taken a risk?

Opened your heart to the maddeningly intense emotions that pounded through me right now?

Your insular little world is a bubble I am about to burst.

Is your spoilt little ego ready for the harsh unrelenting strip lights of the real world?

I thought not.

I can love because I can hate.

Even now as I rain the blows against your face, you cant unleash the fury to strike me back.

Passive and cowed, you dust off the hurt I cause and limp on with the mockery of your life.

I return.

To my world, where chaos reigns.

I long for clarity.

It seems a simple thing, yet it evades me at every turn.

I just want to be able to understan myself.

Is that too much to ask?

With alien emotions and cold thoght, I wish to know why, but it never comes.

An explaination of the workings of the mind cannot help me unlock the mysteries within.

I can feel them.

I can describe their colour and the language I need to express myself is burning on my retina.

Like the light shone brightly in your eyes.

And still nothing.

I long for clarity amongst the murky depths of my mind.

Where I feel my way, clumsily.

If I could make it all clear...

I could see the joins, the cracks...

But the fact of the matter is a lack of clarity is costing me dear.

I can't think to speak, to write, to love.

Yet these things I do, without focus.

Give me clarity, give me vision, give me a world to behold.

Creak. Groan. Hiss.

I lowered myself into the chair, rested my feet on the steel step and removed my glasses.

Instruction given, I close my eyes.

Click. Buzz.

And so it begins, metal dragged through my thick dark hair, every flourish of the wrist showering the floor.

His touch is strong, deft, and subtle.

I hear him dance around me.

Slow, quick, quick, slow.

The motion repeats, he circles me.

Some strokes slow and deliberate, others swift and impetuous.

Catching me at the crown, he swirls through my mane, feeling it fall.

Considering his next move.

Silver flashes and snips, he steps away.

Considers again.

Buzz. Click.

Now his fingers are running through my hair, testing the length of each strand.

Tilting my head this way and that, checking the lines…

Cut here. Cut there.

Bristles and talc brush me down, an admiring glance is encouraged.

Business is settled, I take my leave.

Silence wakes me.

Rich wood panelling protected my slumber.

Fine cottons crumple around my body.

Swell and sway takes its daily hold.

Throwing the hatch wide.

A world explodes into view with nothing in sight.

Adrift.

Alone.

Sea meets sky with seamless perfection.

I check my vessel.

Anchored.

Maps are blank, compass dial spinning uncontrollably.

The radio crackles into life from below.

The world reaches out to me.

I want to urge them into action.

Launch a rescue I implore.

Find me, I am…

Lost.

It creeps across the floor, dark and dirty.

Shaking my very foundations, propelling me into action.

Taking control of my feet.

I can feel it in my chest...deafening the roar of my heart.

Every moment that passes, the fight slips away.

I'm losing, this is my moment to surrender.

The notion forms, my body rushes towards embrace.

Giving over easily. Willingly. Gladly.

The dark and dirty moves through me....infecting every limb.

Closer and closer, the vibrations lead, I follow.

Relentless pounding inches me nearer, daring me...

A melody catches my ear, I reach with hope!

Fingers close upon the silk that now carries me up and way.

Below, the bass wends it way through the valley, always in step.

Joined in flight by song, I soar onwards.

The drama of my moment moves to crescendo.

My exhaustion tangible, the final coda sounds.

The devil makes work for idle thumbs, and enjoys the lamentations of lazy imaginations.

Quick to queue, to complain but to actually change ourselves?

To demand change of others?

The hopelessness of it all is sinking into our apathetic hearts. Our neighbours brought closer by technological advancement yet pushed away by tradition.

In an age where we can reach out across the globe to make friends, our leaders continue to make enemies of each other.

At home, we are afraid. Not of war, of poverty. Of empty shelves. Of empty forecourts. Of change.

We are afraid of our neighbours because we dont know them. We live in fear of dying alone.

All we know is we should do something.

Late this August, her embrace has been rare, though today she kissed me, caressed my skin with a warmth that emanates from my midrift. As the sun tends to my skin, the wind weaves her way through my hair. Playfully she teases me, ruffling with kindness. Fluttering and bending the branches to soothe my soul with the hush of the leaves.

Burnt ocre shadows dance in front of my eyes, closed against her brightness. This woman, this angel, Nature, she makes love to me as surely as you would.

Rough cotton needles me to open my eyes, to make some movement, I resist. Until I break this spell, Nature is you. With your languid limbs...trailing touch...gently parted lips...inviting.

Slowly I rise, stretching away from your touch.

Bare feet, sensitive to the heat of the baked tiles, pad towards the balcony. Arms outstretch guiding me to the edge.

At the crack of an eyelid, moment by moment, I let her brightness in. Blindness begs if only...

If only I was at the edge of crisp blue water, if I was King of the World, then your kiss would be real and not a breeze that plays.

Top Hat jauntilty astride his bushy mane, the Ringmaster baits the crowd, as he baits me.

I am the Tiger at your circus. My world, your big top.

A spectacle of wonder, tricked into delighting you for a morsel of what I live for.

A beast I am. Humbled and tamed for your pleasure, entertainment, delectation.

When you leave, the sawdust settles, the hat back upon the stand. I resume my pacing.

Imagine how I might treat you had my life not be contained...6' x 9'

Do you think you would giggle with excitement as I as stalked amongst you then?

Would you, could you even look at me, a powerhouse of the natural world, with pity had your fellow man not enslaved and caged me?

Would you still respect the authority the Top Hat belies if I was to savage him?

Is his finery any match for mine?

Yet,unlike him, as I stalk I am humble. I am bound by your rules. I allow you to bind me. Unlike the wild feline prowling in my chest, I chose captivity. I chose your safety over my freedoms.

So although I may profess a deference to your finery, a courtsey to your customs, remember always my true nature.

Through London you can pass, like mist upon the Thames.

Within your arms you can embrace her but beware she can chew you up and spit you out.

The most fickle of lovers are endlessly intriguing.

Mystery breeds curiousity, just dont mention the cat.

Platitudes and cliches exist to comfort the average heart, their generic sympathy holds no sway with the passion that rages beneath a torrent of tears.

You chose to be who you are.

You chose how you react.

You do not choose how you feel.

Live with the emotion.

Walk amongst it, or embrace it.

Its up to you.

So I have finally succumbed to the lure of the blog, somewhere to generally have a good outpour...sometimes I do like to inflict this out pouring on you, possibly be a friend but not necessarily. Leave your comments, but mind your manners I'm a delicate soul.

I will be taking the time to press on with my ramblings via my new eightytwo blog, so stick with me, maybe eventually I'll write something really good like those typer monkeys are said to be capable of.

But in the meantime, some of my existing work is below.

Riggs.

There was a time in my life when I was one of the happy people. You know the ones I mean, walking hand in hand down the high street in front of you. Pausing every so often to kiss, cuddle and caress each other. Oblivious to the rest of us trudging along, alone in our misery, wondering when we might get our shot at the fairytale.

I was one half of a smug DINK couple, us DINK's, double income, no kids. Taking weekends breaks, enjoying pretentious restaurants and showering each other with pointless gifts but pretty gifts. Always with someone to go home to. I had one of those ridiculously comfortable relationships, where the only thing that seemed to rock the boat was a trip to Blockbusters. We could never agree. Maybe that was an omen or sign I should have paid attention to.

My apologies, allow me to introduce the other half of this smug coupling, Kara. The woman with whom I spent my relaxing evenings and chilled out weekends. Kara was a career woman, climbing the ladder always. Occasionally pausing for breath, but generally speaking, she climbed that ladder for a minimum of 60 odd hours a week. People met her and they were never surprised to learn she was the youngest and most successful executive at her company. She walked with power and she talked with authority. People listened to Kara, or they were so mesmerised by the sharply dressed beautiful blonde in front of them that it just appeared they were listening. She could command a room so well that Goebbels himself would have been proud and envious all at once.

Kara cut through crisis, dramas, issues, hysterics, lay-offs and corporate warfare like the proverbial hot knife through butter. She was a woman I adored, worshipped, loved and, all in all, was besotted with.

Thoughts of my gorgeous girlfriend in Victoria's Secret's finest ensembles meandered through my mind as I strolled home from my averagely paid, averagely demanding job. Ipod trickling chilled out dance music into my ear canals. Sunshine making me squint. I was happy. No other word for it. I just had a smile that screamed H.A.P.P.Y!

I hit the stairs in my building with a spring in my step that took me up so quickly I was surprised when I reached my door. I was even more surprised to find the door ajar. Splintered at the lock. Fear flooded my veins with ice, rendering me immobile. A headphone dropped from my ears and the silence was punctuated with the tinny and distant bass lines still pulsating through my Ipod.

I knew I had to step through the door but I just couldn't door it. Cartoon montages of trapdoors and masked villains streamed behind my eyes. Getting a grip on my panic I pushed the door open with my sleeve, careful not to leave anymore of my own prints.

Each room has exploded into the hallway, contents of my life strewn and trampled on. A cursory glance in the living room confirms my fears. All my 21st century gadgetry is gone. Replaced by dust free spaces where my things once were. With the worst confirmed, I head to the bedroom.

As I cross the threshold my nose wrinkles, raising my eyebrows high as though trying to escape the strange and unpleasant smell that assails me. It's not unfamiliar, just uncommon. Kara designed the bedroom and even now amongst the mess and stench, I'm worried about my shoes marking the carpet. I look down to check I'm going to get away with it when I realise I'm going to need more than an alibi for the marks on the carpet.

On the expensive crisp cotton white sheets lies Kara. Her blonde hair matted to what remains of the left hand side of her head. Turned to the right she is facing me as I edge slowly into the room. Statuesque, she lies there. Eyes wide open, begging and pleading for help. The sodden mattress is testament to how late my arrival is.

Tremor after tremor hits my body, on the third my knees give and I sink to the floor. My eyes trace the arching splatter pattern on the wall. Slowly the cogs in my mind start turning, questions appear. When? How? Who? Why? So many questions. What am I going to do? Stay or go? Fight or flee?

Out of the corner of my eye I spy my holdall from last weekends Prague trip. Clothes, passport, money and all essentials still stowed away inside, ready for the next jolly. I tiptoe past the empty face of the woman I love and I grab the bag.

Feet slapping the pavement, I hear the door to my building slam shut behind me. I keep running. Putting as much distance between myself and this nightmare, that has illegally crossed into my waking life, as possible.

© Copyright Riggs 2007

At the airport you can watch people without them knowing or without them caring. At the airport people indulge themselves in the opportunity to be very emotional in public. It is only this kind of public arena that they do this in. maybe because the chances of their being someone that they know around are very slim. If people were overly emotional in the local supermarket then there is always a chance of a neighbour or work colleague spotting you. It is also somewhat ridiculous to fall to pieces in the fruit and veg section. Call it an act of sheer lunacy. It is expected of people to be irrational at the airport. Departures allow the tears to leave and Arrivals welcomes relief home. Tears and Tantrums, Screams and Hugs as a mandatory as browsing through duty-free.

This is when I realised I might not be normal.

Right now I am sat at the last table in Burger King. The table that maximises the amount of floorspace Burger King can have, by ensuring the table at its legs are right on the edge of the boundary. This means that the chair I occupy is out in the thoroughfare of the food hall. From this vantage point I can watch the world pass.

Lovers clinging to each other, desperate to prolong their bodily contact. Mothers gripping children to their bosoms as they wriggle to escape maternal clutches.

I watch and speculate about their fates, past and present. I do this so that I can busy my mind with worries and concerns of other people's lives. When the throng of bodies slows, my minds eyes turns inward, to the problems that are occurring in my own life and it's the last thing I want. The feelings well up in my and before I can run for cover, I know I'm think and dwelling. In a bid to avoid this I cast aside the remnants of my meal and head for the pub.

The airport pub. Whose patrons are the most desperate of people. Men in business suits looking so uncomfortable, sipping away at a scotch in order to find the courage to even contemplate playing away whilst off on the notorious "Business Trip" that many a wife fears. Old gentlemen sit in the corners while their dominating wives strut through duty-free buying things for the grandkids and no good reason than it's duty-free.

I stand at the bar and feel relaxed in the company of the others who are trying to escape from something. My chosen drink of escape today is somewhat of a classic, to be found on any cocktail menu in the world. It's a screwdriver. The smartarse in me loves to order a screwdriver just to annoy the staff. The old hands sigh or roll their eyes at my perceived pretentiousness. Newbies look nervously into the slop trays for inspiration before sidling off to discover from a colleague its just a vodka and orange. When a newbie finally serves me my drink there is that inevitable look on their face that betrays their desire to call me a wanker. But today is different. There is something about the petite brunette behind the bar that simply stops me and I order a vodka and orange. She seems like a newbie but she knows the drill already, asking if I want a double "for just 30p extra". What the hell I say, after all I'm going to need it. I'm sitting in desperado valley wondering if there is a way out of it all.

Contemplating your future while sat in an airport bar is difficult. Because when considering your options you have to fight the urge to run to the nearest ticket booth and grab the next plane to anywhere that is an elsewhere. Its like standing at the back door and knowing you should really take your leave via the front door.

The whole process is not helped by the indeterminable amount of choice available to a person at the airport. Want to fly? Pick one of 20 airlines. Want to eat? Pick any of the 40 various food outlets scattered about in convenient locations around the terminal. Want to run away from the empty shell that used to be your life? Pick any of the 180 destinations. Obviously this depends on which airport you're at, but for me today, the choices are endless. I'm at Gatwick.

But why am I here?

To be continued.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

I knew I shouldn't have worn the blue shirt. It didn't matter that it was exactly the same shirt as the red or black one. The blue one just didn't seem right. More than the colour, the sleeves felt at odd distances on my forearms, which never happened with the black one. At this particular moment I should have been paying attention to the odd couple sitting across the "meeting room" table from me. I named them the odd couple, well because they seemed it.

He was definitely a dad, the tie with its blue, green and yellow checks, like a hideous tablecloth, could only have been a present from an uninterested teenage offspring. He wore comfy brogues, you know, proper Clarks sensible shoes. You know the type of bloke I mean, he's wore the same pair for an eternity, returning every two to three years to replace them with the exact same pair. His M&S trousers and shirts had seen the inside of a washing machine a thousand times and they looked as washed out and bored as their wearer.

She on the other hand was an aging black woman. Her flawless skin and well-conditioned hair was at odds with his pot marked face and grey, receding hairline. Whilst he looks weary, she looked strong, almost angry. Maybe at me. Perhaps she could she the odd look on my face as I appraised the sharp cut of her suit and the crispness of her collar that looked to have an edge so sharp it would cut her neck if she moved too quickly.

I continued in my sweeping judgements and assessments of them both until she spoke. Which she hadn't done so far.

"Where do you see yourself in 3 years time?" she asked.

I felt my brain switch off as I engaged autocue…

"I'm looking for a career…blah blah blah, a company I can grow in…blah blah blah."

Droning on and on about my so-called aspirations and ambitions. Hands waving around trying to at least add a little sincerity to my words. Then came the question that I hated, because I don't know the answer, but today it came in a new form. Not the typical 'How would you describe yourself?' but 'How would your best friend or partner describe you?'. Did I look gay or were they just being overly PC about it all?

At this point my autocue normally switches into overdrive, as I would babble on about drive and ambition blah blah blah. But I went blank. I didn't know. For someone who worries a lot about what other people think, I realised that I didn't have a clue. I bumbled through. Shook hands, 'oohed' and 'ahhhed' throughout the tour of the distinctly average looking office and its many many non descript desks before being handed my coat and lighting a Marlboro for the walk home.

Stupidly I thought it might be a good idea to ask my best friend/partner (one and the same) the way she would describe me. I say stupidly because deep down I knew I was going to like the answer. But like the foolhardy idiot I am, I asked.

She threw back her head and laughed until she ached and cried.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

It matters to her that I know she loved me.

It matters to her that I remember her, our time together.

That I think back to it, view it through a rose tint. I cant. It feels like a mistake. With harsh objectivity, I see the bad.

Shadows that fall across a room as day turns to dusk and it reminds me not to repeat the error. Good is there, stretching through the room, competing with the shadows.

It isnt much of a fight. An unspoken, unseen harmony exists.

Light and Dark.

Good and Bad.

Her need to leave a mark on my heart, my mind and my memories, is the best indicator of her. One of those who constantly wonders what everyone else thinks of her.

She doesnt want to ensure I dont live my life believing that, for so long, I loved and got nothing in return. She wants me to know it so should I be questioned, I paint her in a good light.

Once more all about her.

No surprise.

Its the way shes always been. Always will be.

Miss Wannabe Popular cant bear the thought that I dont particularly like her.

She detests the fact that I dont want her and it pains her to know that I dont need her.

But most of all she concerns herself with the fact that I might tell people she isnt all she claims.

Then what will they think?

© Copyright Riggs 2006

You have a sparkle in your eyes that comes from deep within.

Your smile lits up your face and never fails to light up mine.

Your deep brown eyes are full of soul, windows to your heart.

I love to look upon your face, as you smile, as you laugh.

I love to watch the laughter spread from the corners of your mouth and reach your eyes.

All at once a diamond sparkles.

I am captivated.

Like a spell that overpowers me, entranced by your gaze, calmed by your touch.

Your kiss, my bermuda triangle that I can never hope to escape from.

Truth be told, I've never tried.

There is a depth between us wherein lies our strength.

A rock to me, an anchor in troubled waters.

One day all I hope is that I can be your rock, your anchor.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

Consumed by you.

Basic need to be as close as I can be.

Desire is not enough of a word to describe the way I feel.

From the moment we part, stood in the doorway, each in our own worlds, divided by the frame that allows access.

I ache for you.

My skin craves the sensation of your skin, so soft and smooth.

My eyes constantly dart around looking for a place to rest.

There is nowhere else. Nothing compares to your eyes.

My lips tingle as I remember the feeling of yours on mine.

My body aches for you, addiction to you and yours.

I am only sustained by your reactions.

They offer relief, ease my fever.

I rest.

Satiated.

Content.

Complete.

Then it comes again.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

The architect of my heart tells me that the plans I have are unrealistic.

The builder of my dreams sighs and tells me it cant be done.

But still I push on, push forward with this labour of love.

Undeterred by a lack of support.

I'll build a castle if thats what I want.

Dont tell me otherwise.

The work begins but the foundations are weak.

I fear subsidance in the future.

I want it all solid so we can move in.

Instead its a temporary abode, as strong as straw or twigs.

If you huffed and puffed, you'd blow it down.

But on I build.

Strengthening, Supporting and Reinforcing.

Plans are altered but the work continues.

One day the architect will sit back and proclaim we started a revolution.

The builder will gasp in amazement at what can be done.

All will envy what we created.

But only we will appreciate the blood, sweat and tears that built it.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

When you bring your world crashing down around you, time in the rubble presents you with time to address your issues.

For me, I lay in the debris of my former life and wondered what the landscape would be like when I picked myself up and dusted myself off.

Would my world be dark and bleak, void of all human existence, deserted by wildlife and nature?

Or would the sun be out, banishing clouds from the sky in honour of my survival?

© Copyright Riggs 2006

The shift in our dynamics has left me altered.

Changed in more ways than one.

For months you've been stood next to me, close to me.

My body always in contact with yours.

Now there is a wall.

You've distanced yourself from me. In your mind, you've just stepped back a few paces, to me it feels like the red sea parts us.

I know it's my fault.

Despite the fact that I moved at a snails pace, for you it still felt too fast.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

That stupid need in my to tell the world that I love you, made you feel trapped and rushed.

For that I couldn't be more sorry, now I hate the barriers that are up in front of you.

Most people think the only reason I can't cope with the change is because I'll miss the sex.

Don't get me wrong.

I will!

But for all my shallowness, I can bear the lack of sex. In fact in might be beneficial to us.

But I cannot cope with the void of intimacy that now sits between us.

The step back makes me equal to everyone else in your life that hurts my ego and my pride.

Stupid I know.

I want to be the special one.

I'm not and to speak from my broken heart and immature mind…

It sucks!

© Copyright Riggs 2006

Its a wonder we can make it through the day. So many pitfalls to be avoided. You wake up and the day is fresh and new. Waiting for you to trample all over it.

As you lie in the warm, cosy comfort the quilt provides, you picture your day ahead. You're happy and you dont suspect for one moment that anything can go wrong. Thats your first mistake.

At least a pessimist is never disappointed. Often they are pleasantly surprised. But an optimist sets themself up for fall after fall.

When it goes wrong, do you sit back and sigh and think "Well I was waiting for that"? Sigh and accept instantly the situation that has developed.

Do you think "What the fuck? Where did that come from?" Get angry and rage against the injustice that has been done to you.

Do you think "Why me? Oh poor me!" Cry and weep and sob until you are exhausted.

Do you do all of these things? Or are you one of the lucky ones? The ones for whom things always seem to skip along quite happily. Are you the person that everyone is jealous of? Is your life the subject of envy? Do you look around and know that everyone covets what you have?

Where can I find the heart to go on? How do I continue to try and make it work? How do I accept the failure that I am?

To be a disappointment is heartbreaking. I always wanted to make them all proud. I wanted to be someone. I wanted to be anyone. I'd rather be so bad that I'm disowned, than the person who is pitied. A could have been.

They build you up, they keep building. They keep your subsidence in check. But they built on sand. It'll never hold.

You think back to the things you said you'd have done by this time in your life and you realise that hope is a childish emotion. Dreams are an escape from a reality that will never allow them to come true.

Too many people stand in your way. You have too many faults to make anything work. You're not good enough. You never will be. But still you try.

Well, you used to try. Now you can't even find the energy to lift your head from the pillow. You wish you hadnt woken up. You pray for sleep to claim you once more. Please Mr Sandman, take me away for a little longer.

Your limbs feel heavy, your head weighs upon your neck, which feels too weak to support it. The heart has sunk from the middle of your chest to the pit of your stomach. You drag your feet as you walk. You look at the floor. No longer facing the world head on.

You dont have the energy for the fight. White towel on the canvas. You duck between the ropes and make a hasty retreat through the baying crowd who want to see you become a bloody pulp on the floor. They dont care that your life is killing you. They want you to bleed for their entertainment. They whistle and boo. They jeer and holler. They throw bottles and coins. They paid for this and as they start ripping up the chairs, you break into a run.

And you keep running, you're going nowhere. You're on the treadmill and the incline is set to steep. You sink to the floor and it spits you off the back.

Curled into the foetal position, you close your eyes and accept your fate.

Your footprints are all over the day. You've made a bloody mess of it again.

Hang your head in shame. You are making no-one proud with this attitude. Get a grip, pull yourself together, pick yourself. Just get out of my sight.

© Copyright Riggs 2006

I want to write but I can't. The words have gone, left, deserted me. How can I write about writers block? It feels like everything is welled up inside me and I cant get it out.

My fingers are moving but no trail left behind. Darting eyes scan the empty page. A mind moves to correct and redraft and finds emptiness. I feel tense with the need to express, like a lost voice, frustrating to speak.

I'll be honest now, I know this is lame. I just had to tell you that I cant feel and I cannot tell you how hard that it. World in a blur, I stop what I'm saying and focus on saying what I'm saying. I focus somemore and focus again. I'm so damm focused I cant see a thing.

Head is heavy, neck feels stiff, eyes drooping and mind slowing...heart rate drops, pulse slows...breathing deep and regular...and I'm gone with the sandman til the morning does come.

On the clouds of my dreams, I float through the night, dreaming of dreaming and smiling and laughing. My wishes come true, right in front of my eyes, I reach out and touch them, holding them tight.

With a tap on the shoulder, it whirlpools away. Leaving me lying in the cold light of day.

Frenetic activity surrounds me.

The throng of bodies to-ing and fro-ing around me seem to never stop.

I sit calmly in the middle of all this.

Content.

Just as you feel after Christmas dinner.

I've dropped off the pace and I'm strolling along.

I've suddenly realised all the things I was missing along the way.

With the sun at my back, warming me gently, I potter along.

Destination Unknown.

As I look down, I notice a pair of shoes walking in time with me.

I straighten up and look ahead.

Tempted to glance to my left to see who you are.

I know who you are.

Its like you've always been beside me, falling in step with me.

You see the same views; you're going the same way.

From time to time, the road forks, we take separate paths but they

always lead to the same place and I find you there, waiting.

Sometimes we cover old ground; sometimes it just seems a familiar path.

Then there are those days where we break new ground and walk through un-chartered territory together.

I know its you next to me.

I can feel that its you.

But I can't help but sneak a look at what I know to be true.

As I grind to a halt, I understand why I shouldn't have looked.

It's a face of beauty, so graceful and elegant, that stops me in my tracks.

Mesmerised, I gaze at you.

All thoughts of walking cast aside.

What I see makes the incredible views pale into insignificance.

I am spellbound by you.

© Copyright Riggs 2007

I used to spend my days admiring the sunshine through double glazed protection.

I saw its effects but I didn't feel them.

I've become an indoor creature, like a spoiled housecat, I luxuriate in the delights of central heating and comfortable upholstery.

Sofas and armchairs, beds and floors, chairs and tables.

I can lounge upon any surface, no matter the fabric.

But since you I find myself lizard-like, basking in the spring sunshine.

I enjoy the touch of your skin on mine as the sun warms us both.

The fresh air flowing over goose bumps caused by you and not it.

You have the ability to make nature jealous.

The winter envies you for making me shiver.

Summer because you can make me sweat, warm me through and make the days seem never-ending.

In spring, you refresh me, adding a bounce to my step.

Autumn comes and you provide a cosiness and security that can only be found in your arms.

© Copyright Riggs 2007

Sitting on a hill, watching as they sail by.

Walking underneath them as they sit above us, threatening to relieve themselves all over us, on the day we forgot the umbrella.

Making mystical, magical and fantastical shapes that endlessly fascinate us and somehow manage to look so different to every set of eyes.

We never pay them much heed, often mentioned but rarely gloried.

They have such power over us mere mortals.

Ambling along so that one after the other, they pass in front of the sun, like a parade stopping the traffic, casting us into shadow.

At other times they speed past us as though we don't exist, urgent business elsewhere, apparently.

White and fluffy, grey and foreboding.

Solely reliant upon a force they can't see.

Having faith that they'll get to where they're supposed to go, do what they're supposed to do.

Some are nice, some are dangerous and some seem so innocent but beneath the fluffy exterior lies a malevolence that is only ever betrayed after the act.

Strolling, frolicking, storming, brooding, threatening, gambolling and yet made of nothing.

All style and no substance.

We pass through them in our flying machines, fall past them as we search for greater thrills and dream of lounging on one in corporeal form, plucking at a harp, watching as the world spins on its axis.

You know of that which I speak of, I wonder if you're as fond as I am?

© Copyright Riggs 2007