A Tale

A complex barrage
Of thoughts and emotions
To yearn for love, and want to die
To smile of joy, and want to die
A carpet of opposites,
Of paradoxical illogicities
Of complimentary soaps,
And nooses on the ceiling

Once upon a time,
A prince and a princess in a land far away
The prince left and the princess came sad
Cutting and cutting, onions for the soup
A curtain of illusions, a web of lies
“I’m fine”, the princess says,
Yet all know it a lie
“I’m not fine”, the princess says,
Yet none care for the truth

A carpet of opposites,
Of paradoxical illogicities
In the end we’re all alone
Heaven or hell, all the same
An eternity of darkness, some say
In the end we’re all alone
With our complimentary soaps,
Hanging from the ceiling 

Matt W. Johnson

”Hi Matt, is everything alright? You look a bit down today.” Connor asked, with his sweet and innocent smile wide across his face. He seemed worried.

“Yeah, I am fine, just a bit tired” I responded, knowing full well it was a blatant lie, I had not been fine for a long time and I knew it. I was always sad, always down, today I just could not be bothered to hide it. I knew it wouldn’t matter how I looked today. Despite acting every day for the past five years, hiding my true self from the world, today I didn’t feel the need for it. For the first time in years, maybe ever, I was fully myself. Nothing was holding me back—all the chains were gone and the veil was broken. For the first time, in a long time, I was Matt Walter Johnson again.

I felt every pair of eyes in the building staring right at me, though I could not blame them; I looked fabulous. I was wearing a black suit jacket and a pair of jeans. As they say, when you go to meet God, you must look nice.

I stepped into the elevator, barely able to make out the floor numbers through my tearful eyes. I wiped them off and gently pushed the button that marked the roof.

Smooth jazz played around me, as one might expect, but I did not focus on it. I was preparing for what was to come. My feet were trembling, cold sweat was dripping down my body and tears down my face. I did not want to die, but at this point it was the only choice left.

A high-pitched ping echoed in the elevator as the doors open, the end of the journey. I step out onto the roof. Despite being in the middle of the city, it was quiet. The smooth jazz of the elevator had turned into nothingness. No cars, no birds, not even any wind.

Slowly I creep towards the edge. Looking down, I saw the city. Buildings upon buildings and cars as far the eye can see—granted all of them were a bit blurry, with all the tears. I take a step back and collapse onto the concrete rooftop. This was to be my demise, but I am not strong enough. Tears rolling down my face and down onto the concrete, I sit there for what feels like an eternity.

Yet my crying is cut short by a silhouette sitting down by my side and putting a hand around me. Turning my head, I see that sweet and innocent smile again. Still in tears, I practically jumped into his arms, embracing him in a tight hug. I was lost, still am, but I felt safe in his arms. I wasn’t ready to die, I didn’t want to die, but I felt I had no other option.

“I don’t want to die.” I managed to blurt out.

“I know,” he said, “and you will not. I am here now.”

Smoky Quartz

Eyes like stones of smoky quartz

All I ever wanted of you was to waltz

Tangled and spinning around

Till we were tired and falling down

Like never before

Crowns and Torches

The dark corridors and intersections flew past her as she ran, making her way directly towards the nursery. The night was steadily setting in and the windows barely had any light coming through them, apart from the occasional glimmer of the fires raging outside. The palace of grey stone had never seemed so haunting. Step after step, the Queen got nearer to the nursery, and among the steady sounds of her feet hitting the smooth stone surface of the floor she could hear the increasing yells of the revolutionaries getting closer by every moment that passed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she made it to the nursery door. Quickly looking around her, and making sure nobody was near, she opened the lock and gently pushed the heavy door of darkened spruce open. The old hinges let out a violent squeaking sound, as she entered the nursery.

To her relief, there was nobody there, and her son was calmly sleeping in his crib. The queen took a deep breath and one happy glimpse of that small creature. Prince Elijah, named after his late father, that beautiful creation of her own blood. The small baby boy was such a beautiful sight, that she could barely take her eyes off of him. Yet her daydreaming was cut short by the nearing screams, swearing death to her name. Anna gently took her baby son to her arms and started making her way to the hidden exit not too far from the nursery.

As she stepped back into the corridor, she could see the flames of torches dancing on the walls, the revolutionaries had nearly caught her, and had blocked her way to the hidden exit. The only way out was now through the main gate, and she knew that. She made a run for it, carrying young Elijah in her arms as she did. The shaking and loud noises woke up the boy, who started crying, the sound of which echoed in the corridors.

They made it to the gate. She tried to run down the steps, but lost her balance and fell, sending young Elijah flying into the air. When she got up, she was relieved to hear the young boy still crying, yet shocked by what she saw as she got her eyes off the ground. One of the revolutionaries had snatched the baby out of the air into his arms.

The handsome young man stood over her, smiling, as he looked her straight into her eyes. Elijah’s crying was the only thing breaking silence. The man holding her son said four words, loud and clear, “Death to the Queen”, as in one swift movement he snapped the baby’s neck.

Her heart shattered, as complete silence fell over the war-torn city. Anna could hardly breathe. She collapsed on the ground, sharp pieces of gravel piercing the skin of her knees. She was forced to watch as the man dropped her son, forced to witness as the lifeless corpse of that innocent creature, less than two summers old, hit the gravel-covered courtyard ground.

Still devastated from shock, her eyes fixed on that lifeless corpse, Anna offered no fear and no anger to the man now approaching her with his drawn-out sword.

The Ship

The ship has sailed so long, but to what

end? What does age matter, when one hole is

enough to make it sink, to take its life?

Into meaningless directions without

praise and glory, to a

future of uncertainty and little

happiness. It is a mystery.