Monday, 4 March 2013

Accidental visual poetry

Incase it's too hard to read,

content: "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like an entirely different person.

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Friday, 1 March 2013

Spot the subtext

‘You’re dragging your feet’ 

‘I’m not dragging my feet it’s how I walk, I always walk like this’ she said. 

‘News to me’ and they passed into the home ware aisle 

‘Do we really need new bedding; the one we have is fine.’ He rolled bits of fabric between his fingers

‘The one we have is old and faded and you spilled soup on it’

‘And you stained it all with your hair’ 

‘I thought you liked my hair!’ 

He put his hand up to his eyebrow and stroked it slightly, ‘I didn’t say I didn’t.’ 

‘Fine’ she said. 

‘Fine’ he replied.

And then…

‘Child’ he muttered

‘What?’ she wasn’t really listening, she was counting up the amount of money a month she spent on dye.

‘I said this is for a child’ and he walked away from her. 

‘Why don’t we have something fresh and light? Something that’ll air out the room’ 

He stopped and stared, ‘If you want to air out the room open a window’ 

‘It would be too cold’ she said grabbing her sides 
‘It’s cold enough already’ he shrugged, ‘How about black, it’s easy’ 

‘No! Everything is black, black and dark I’m sick of the dark.’ And she sat down on the display bed with her hands tugging at the sides of her hair. One by one she felt them ping out her head.

‘You like black. You wanted a black bedroom.’ He dipped down beside her, half bent and half straight lightening his voice slightly

‘Well, now I don’t’ 

‘Since when?’ he stood up straight. 

‘Since awhile. I want a change. Don’t you?’ she asked

He scratched the back of his head the way he always did when he was anxious. It left red claw marks on his neck and she would always count them when he was sleeping beside her. Grunting. Snoring. He didn’t think he snored. 

‘I think it looks fine.’ He shrugged 

And she wondered how many scratches she’d have to count tonight.