17
When I was 17my mother said to me,“Don’t stop imagining. The day that you do is the day that you die.” -17, Youth LagoonOcie Elliott — 17 (Youth Lagoon cover) – YouTube Continue reading 17
Author: goldenchild31
A passionate 17 year old with a love of words.
the night and its secrets
this night does not hide my secrets. it is far too full with secrets of its own. with illicit affairs and the weight of unsaid words. the air is soaked with the lingering warmth of sweet bodies, with the soft exhalations of whispered words. it is muted by the passing cadence of a broken highway that hums like the falling of sea on sand – … Continue reading the night and its secrets
a kitchen-esque evening.
A pink box bouncing from edge to edge inside a television. A live-streamed funeral on an iPhone, soft-singing voices on low volume. Onion sizzling in a brand-new pan, the flourishing of steak in a bloom of hot oil. Cooked flesh. Kitchen noises, kitchen smells. A beeping microwave fighting the funeral rhythms leaking through iPhone speakers. Onion tears. A sleeping dog curled up in a too-small … Continue reading a kitchen-esque evening.
time/ribbons
a haloed body through frosted glass. like a painting, far away through boiled cabbage leaves. tape-bound bodies haloed in sugar-sweet windows. brokenness bound mended melted. the seams of our souls in technicolour, through yellowing film like teeth. like piss. hidden clocks. everywhere everywhere, as gold-tipped tassels fight the tick tocking time with raindrop love. ribbons, ribbons, ribbons. a cabbaged halo. a frosted body. a piss-toothed … Continue reading time/ribbons
A dream
A dream is a beautiful thing. But as with all beauty, it is fragile, ruinable. Sad. A dream, by which I mean an aspiration, a goal. But more than a goal. A dream is romantic, improbable, dazzling, impractical. It sets alight the heart and is guarded by it, not for the scrutiny of peering third parties. Not for their ponderings or suggestions. No, a dream … Continue reading A dream
an old hurt
It’s one of those old hurts. A moon-shaped crevice dug into the skin, a bit lumpy and scarred over in dark pigment. It is mostly dormant. But on the occasion that it is awakened, the hurt is just that: occasional. It is the hurt of a light scratch over a an old scar. A surprise graze, brushing past the corner of a table, making an … Continue reading an old hurt
balloon
on the curling wind it floats by upwards and upwards beyond, to great things – only to burst as it reaches the sky but at least it saw the treetops and at least it met the clouds… Continue reading balloon
dear me: a love letter
dear me, you are worthy. not you can be. not you could be, if… you are. because you are kind, trustworthy, loyal, friendly, patient, empathetic, loving, genuine, authentic, compassionate, a good listener, helpful, considerate, intelligent, thoughtful, a change-maker, god-fearing. you care about the people you love and want them to be ok. you are non-confrontational, sometimes soft spoken, understated. easygoing, calm, collected, flexible, go with … Continue reading dear me: a love letter
dreams
we build our dreams childlike fantasies. versions of life that propel and inspire. what hurts the most isn’t the unattainable fantasy but the almost real. within reach. close enough to touch. mirages. that slip through our fingers like rock turned to sand and so, we pick ourselves up and start again. Continue reading dreams
orange gumtrees
the gums were encased in an orange glaze, touched by the orange sun as the hazy day rolled to the edge of twilight, while the cockatoos called and the wind whispered its silvery tune. australia is home. …. …… this afternoon while the sun was setting, i looked up to see the canopy of our beautiful australian gum trees absolutely glowing in the orange sunlight, … Continue reading orange gumtrees
the undergrowth. 