3 (jaylor) perpetual darkness and stolen sequin smiles

chapter three.

He dreamt of a sparkly silver moon dress, black sequin smiles and a love that was... snatched right out from under him. He dreamt of a girl with bleached hair and a smile that hadn't been reserved for him. A smile that someone had stolen from him, a smile that should have been his to hold.

He'd been hurt before, but nothing he'd ever experienced hurt as much as what he was feeling this morning. The sky was bleak and cold, it felt as if the heavens agreed that he'd truly fucked up last night. It felt as if the whole universe was trying to remind him of what could have been, but would now be a sinking ship in the bottom of a forgotten ocean. It would be as adrift and as invisible as the city of Atlantis itself. Never to be recovered again.

Joe put his hands on his face, rubbing away the feeling of drinking too much last night. He'd left the final piece of himself that he had left... back in that room. Under the bright lights, with the woman who sparkled and astonished them all. He wondered if it was lying on the ground, crushed under people's shoes in their rush to get home. He wondered if it was as fragmented as he felt, wondered if it would ever find its way back to him. But broken pieces never make their way back to you, he'd discovered.

New York was the loneliest place to be when that darkness in your head was invading. He'd escaped it before, managed to get away from its grasp, but lately it seemed as if he was falling again. He couldn't quite place a finger on what had exactly caused this feeling, but it felt as if he'd been holding onto a cliff edge for too long and he was ready to let go. Holding on was beginning to get tiring. He was ready to watch the world fly past him as he fell into the ocean, rocks tied to his feet so he couldn't even try to swim upwards. He liked the idea of falling into nihility.

He roused himself from the bed, sitting and staring out the window. What was he supposed to do with his day? What was he supposed to do when he felt as if he might shatter at any moment? He stood up, going over to the window, a hand on the glass. The rain trickled down the window and he followed it with one of his fingers.
He had to snap out of this mindset, had to get out of that mindset that was going to lead to the bathroom, to the way of relief. Either that or the piano, and the piano just didn't seem to be cutting it lately. This mindset had always been dangerous for him to allow himself to go into. One time it had ended badly, and he didn't want to do that again.
He grabbed his journal, grabbed a pen, and sat down on the window seat, finally feeling as if he could find the words to describe exactly how he was feeling. In ways, it was such a relief that he could finally express himself like this. He often found that when he didn't write poetry to get the thoughts out of his, that he was going to quite literally explode. It's like all of his thoughts were screaming inside his head, as if he couldn't think or talk or breathe because they were consuming him. So he put his pen to the paper, and began to write.
He titled it; be everything all of the time.

That person
Life together on the outside
Who's loved by all in existence
But truly known by no one at all
That person standing beside you
On the train which you don't know
Will even make it to the future
To the next hour, the next day, the next breath

That person standing in the centre
Of it all
Their meticulous smile
As they fool you all
With their performance
It's all an act
An atrocity, really
When it's the most lonely
Bare and desolate shore
Loneliness hanging from every
Fractured breath you take
Sitting cross legged on the
Thawing, fractured ice of the Arctic
The hurt scarred in your mind
The only company in miles
It's not very cordial
Not at all
It taunts us
Holding the things we love from it's branches
But leaves us too grounded to reach them