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A timid breeze flowed through the barren landscape. Bitter liquid massaged a dusty, sun baked shore. Once thriving mistresses in vibrant gowns dissipated into weeping reflections of the scarred earth. A flaming chariot rode across the heat-hazed sky, scorching all its radiant fingers touched. Silence dominated the dehydrating air. She stood alone. Isolated.


            Fragmented images dance mockingly, wildly, before my frightened eyes. Twisted metal, shattered glass, fractured bone. Warming viscous crimson liquid seeping from every pore, creating rivers. Muffled shrieks fill the stagnant air. Darkness.


            Blinding white tones overwhelm my hazy vision. Crisp corners sterilize a foreign room. Irritating scents of antiseptics waft through the unventilated corridors. My senses recoil in disgust. Methodical, shrill pulses torture my ears, strangling the serenity of a world produced by my imagination. Agony pounds through my otherwise lifeless body. The attempted formations of simple sounds invokes burning tears. My mind screams deafeningly. I cannot.


            Learning to communicate again is the most difficult task I have undertaken. A language playing detrimental games with my soul. I gradually began to speak in a signed language; though my withdrawn, frail self spoke louder than hand gesture or uttered sound. Music continues to be my true dialect but Im constantly frustrated by my inability to express myself as others understand. Speech was my identity, my spirit, my life-force. Presently I am a toddler; languageless and stuttering disjointed, unstructured sentences. My nervous fingers were unaccustomed to the eloquent gestures of a silent language.

            I despise my current self, wishing more intensely each day I could leave my scarred vessel, in search of relief. Everything I had aspired to be had vanished, dreams slaughtered and strewn on the cold concrete. What am I to become? My attempts at communication are greeted by hostile, fearful glares. Understanding lacked by those who are supposed to care, support, cherish.


            Gently mapping the contours of her creamy neck she inspired salty droplets of anguish and torment. Delicate peach lips faintly construct unspoken words on the weightless breeze. A language not spoken, cumbersome. Melodic vocalisations stolen, never to be returned.


            Time does not heal all wounds. As the ticking black hands crawled through time, I found my mind relishing the images of my decomposing flesh. I no longer desired re-education, but rather the satisfying caress of crimson life. Fits of untainted rage transformed into the violent abuse of my weakened skin. Pleasure and relief instantly fulfilled in an act of torture.

            I concentrated every strained droplet of energy into my school work. My passion pooled with ink on the paper, entertaining my imagination with narrative upon narrative of torment and mistrust. Shadowed attempts of communication appreciated by those few who were privileged enough to read it.

            Passion and emotion that I once lacked in my musical compositions became policy. Meaningful notations scattered on the lined page. Bitter strains of string instruments complemented by the fortissimo, pounding bass patterns of the piano. Vivid tempos and tantalising crescendos rushed electrically from my fingers. Narrow talons strangling the plastic clutched within them. My energy crashed synchronously with the climax of my micro-symphony. Rubbing my reddened eyes, I began to escape reality; descending into a surreal landscape. My mind begged for release.


            Churning winds beckon dancing giants, reflected upon an undulating canvas. Vanishing spirits representing her dreams. Depressing stenches of decay adhere to the parched air. Fine wisps of sienna hair sway to the breeze. Sheer drapes of white cloud begin to cloak the shimmering sky.


            Where do I go from here? My identity snatched violently from me. Isolated. Courage discarded with the wreak. Temptation brewing with heightening frustration. Nothing in my world is sacred! Tossed aside by friends, abandoned by love and passion. The square block jammed in a circular hole. What do I do? False sympathy gnawing at my mind burrows deep into my subconscious. I desire to rest eternally. But I am unable to. I watched as an ominous stone wall formed around me, alienating me not only from the horrors of reality, but also the compassion of others. Thoughts crept slowly through my uncertain mind. How do I continue to live a life I know to be false, a simulation reliant on the insensitivity of ignorance?

            Habitually picking at my cuticles, I tear ravenously at my soft flesh. I briefly caress the contours of a knife handle with my solemn gaze. Nerves excite the tips of my fingers as I sense the presence of the blackened plastic slipped cosily in my strangled grip. Unable to resist, I draw my feeble body dangerously close to it, determined to re-establish healing scars. The calming abyss of the handle fulfilled each imagined sensation. Confidently gliding the blade across my patched skin. I cried in delight as warm blood tickled my skin. Each movement becoming increasingly violent.

            Blinding white tones overwhelm my hazy vision. Crisp corners sterilize a foreign room. Irritating scents of antiseptics waft through the unventilated corridors. My senses recoil in disgust. A scene now familiar to me. Physically unable to continue my self abuse. No less frustrated by my inability to communicate.


            Charcoal based formations shroud the shimmering sky. Shrill cries of lament echo through the eerie giants, distorted and disfigured on the jagged canvas. Heavy air carries putrid wafts of decomposition. A chill tickles the spine.


            Padding footsteps trace across an overly hygienic floor. I continue through the familiar corridors, barely able to see. I silently sing, shaping each refined syllable. I move nothing but the faint tingle of air across my cracked, pale lips.

Dont want to be lost anymore

I find myself at the door

But Im too scared to go

Been in this life for too long

I wanna see the sun

Inside my mind.[1]

Miniscule pieces of gravel prick at the worn skin of my feet. I slowly carry myself toward the ledge. Paper flutters effortlessly in the growing breeze. Floating freely, the words follow my descent.

I havent felt the way I feel today

In so long its hard for me to specify.

Im beginning to notice how much this feels

Like a waking limbpins and needles

Nice to know you,


1.        Me Much Plenty; Welcome to the Real World; Sick Puppies; Transistor Music Pty Ltd 2001

2.        Nice to know you; Morning View; Incubus; EMI April Music Inc; 2001