In other news, I've bought myself a journal. It's kinda like being a real old school writer now! It's leather bound and everything... Well, possibly imitation leather, not sure on that one... Either way, it's such a nice feeling to write in a proper journal. I've already filled a few pages with stuff that I'm going to transfer onto here when I find the time. Also, apologies for not posting in such a long while. I assure you, the Tyree project is still progressing, but I've been working more on Like Clockwork primarily, that and poetry, I've been writing a lot of poetry as of late it seems. As such, that's what I was hoping to write tonight. It's completely off the cuff too, so here we go!
September Seems.
September seems not so far away,
But only if you say it quick.
September's pretty easy to say
When joined by a cheery hair flick.
September, you see, is when I next see her.
At least, that's the way it seems...
Given my options, I'd much prefer
To see her for real, not in dreams...
It's only three weeks, that's not long right?
Though it's longer than we've faced so far.
I'll toil and I'll slave and I'll grift and I'll fight
If it means I see those eyes like stars.
Time, it seems, is not our friend.
It laughs as we try to keep this love strong.
But love, my girl, it has no end
And shall never be proven wrong.
But now, my girl, I end this rhyme
So that I might dream of you.
And know, my love, that I'd gladly climb
The highest heights for this love so true...
Yeah, I'm sorry. It got a bit schmaltzy back there but I guess that's just where I am right now. I promise to have some new and exciting stuff for you too! And to prove it, here's a quick extract from another project that's been spawned in my journal which currently has the working title of "Manmade Man." Enjoy!
Reploids don't have the luxury of funerals. Hell, Reploids don't even have the finality of being buried to look forward to, in whatever morbid train of thought that that might be construed as a comfort in life... The final comfort I guess. No, when they die all a Reploid has to look forward to is having their genetic code broken down, analysed and recycled to produce more; a stream of never ending soldiers! It seemed the perfect solution at the start of the military's implementation of synthetic soldiers, but now that the war's over, now that the Reploids lost and struggle through existence as third class citizens, we don't even get the right to share the soil with our human kin...
I've lost count of how many people, people I considered friends died on the battlefield by my side, only to see them then hauled off by the carrier ships and sent back to the replication chambers to be remade into the perfect toy soldier. Do you have any idea - can you even begin to imagine how numbing it is to continue seeing and standing by, fighting alongside people who to all extents are those who you used to call friend? The same faces, the same voices, the same hair, eyes, breath, everything! Only, it's not them. They're just another Reploid off the factory line, 'born' into a life of chaos, misery and violence. They leave the replication chambers with nothing more than a serial number, a uniform and a gun. They have no memories of their past self, of who they were, and that's where it hurts the most. You know that no matter how much you want it to happen, you will never have your friends back; they simply stand and walk and fight alongside you with those all too familiar faces haunting you, crying and bleeding and dying all over again beside you, just for it to happen again over and over and over...
Sometimes, I wish it would happen to me... That way, maybe I'd stop seeing their faces when I try to sleep. There's a reason I wake up with a gun in my hand every morning... It's because every night before, I stare down its barrel, and I dare myself to become just another face in the Reploid crowd...
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