Justin T.

Aspiring writer and physicist.

[justintabb]

rivers of my eyes

turn my pillows to oceans

somehow these seas

refuse to drown me

long abandoned ship

i fail to see

just how it is

air still fills my lungs

[justintabb]

I've performed one of my poems ♥️ https://youtu.be/NHokw0faZtQ

[justintabb]

there won't be flowers

Dark thoughts filled my mind as I woke.

Vivid images of my nightmare lingering.

Your face with eyes rolled back,

A mixture of pleasure, ecstasy and madness.

And my rage at another being.

A slimy creature, cretinous by design, indulging in your flesh.

It unleashed something fierce, powerful and wholly awful.

I struck out with such fervour, an unthinking beast, reduced to primal urges.

Tears traced and seared my skin.

Beads of molten glass, tearing and sealing.

The smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils.

Suddenly all I saw, was red.

Each blow painted a beautiful crimson.

Your eyes rolled down, half focussing, becoming aware.

Then back again.

Fading back into that drug addled mess, the cesspit the creature birthed in you.

Lungs, mind, body entire, afire with rage that came unconstrained.

Anger, the little brother of the power that moved me.

It was all consuming, the prospect of giving in so inviting.

My eyes met yours, your true gaze and in there I saw fear reflected.

Given pause, the flame of my being stilled, plunged into frozen depths.

Momentum lost and questions aplenty, lacking purpose once again.

And all it took, a single look.

You shied away, seeing the trembling form of that thing on the floor.

I reduced it as I saw it, an act unjust and wrong.

Dear god above, what had I done.

Leaving, exit, running, barely stopping, screaming too, crying,

Burning away any remnant of what I could be,

Stripping myself of hope and feeling.

It was wrong, I was wrong

Dear god.

[justintabb]

an {in}auspicious end

convulsing limbs and a jerking body

dark blood coursing through veins of mine

i scream the soundless scream

when breath is torn from my lungs

left vacant, evaporated

a husk of something once living

the whites of my eyes grown wide

leaving slivers of brown, pinpricks in flesh

time relaxes and my suffering extends

the creaking and snapping of bones

cousins to the swaying of branches in the wind

the horizon comes, the infinite edge nearer

the cusp becoming the land beneath my body

i think my primal thoughts

the why, the unceasing and unending

and to my surprise

in this pain born in me

i find my answer

written in the light in your eyes

and the red of your lips

and the closeness of your soul

a desire so powerful

i think of nothing more

[justintabb]

this one's for me

He took hold of her hand, much the same way alcohol took hold of his mind. It was overzealous and sudden, but he loved it. The feel of her skin on his was a unique one, it was more than just the touching of hands, it was an invitation to something beautiful. It was his exposed heart, buzzing with anticipation. The joy that flooded through his body when he felt her hand squeeze back sent his mind spinning, his drunken state seeking only to bring the high, higher.

He took her other hand, confidence overflowing at her response, and with an unspoken cue, they began to swing their arms wildly, as if they’d just remembered the music that played. It was chaotic and noisy, the two of them acting as if they owned this small corner of the world, but they were free. There was a boundless quality to their movements, a sense of infinity and timelessness.

It took him a few moments for his eyes to meet her, moments he wished he had more clarity to his mind, but looking into her depths, he felt himself falling, into pools of wonder.

Drawing closer to her, transfixed by the impossible majesty of her smile, a smile that was wicked and cruel but enticing all the same. He wanted to feel his lips to hers, to find out what they tasted like, to drink in her intoxicating substance himself, to feel lost in the moment.

She pulled back. A flash of that fiendish grin spread onto her lips and he felt himself falling, but not to any sense of bliss, falling to a place of reproach. Suddenly cast aside, rejected, he was confused no longer knowing what to do with his hands or how to deal with the growing clamminess of his palms. His smile dropped, alcohol pushing him lower, his hands began to fall to his sides, she held on for an instant, then one hand dropped. He stood, expecting the other to follow, despondently. It didn’t. She held on.

She held on. His downcast eyes met hers again and they were bursting with laughter, creases at the corners and a wide full-toothed smile beaming on her face. She began to twist, squeezing his hand again. Somehow, despite logic or sense, his spirits began to rise, cautious of the emotion that still lingered in his chest, that anticipation turned to apprehension. He raised his arm and she spun underneath, a leaf in the wind cascading - she was beauty. Enamoured again and addled by several drinks, he was slow to react, she was upon him, her body pressed against his, her effortless rise to his lips…

The music was gone. The people were gone. The world disappeared. All that remained was the two of them, kissing. Sharing their intimacy, elation running riot in his chest.

[justintabb]

one for you

circling you and finding pace

we stand apart, unable to step,

hesitant of unspoken words, worn on face

in a dance, afraid of my misstep

i raise a hand, you mirror me   

my heart skips, pushing to the edge

only to pull back, setting free

elation bounding to the ledge

with music building, i strut

a single foot pivot, you turn away

suddenly closed off, feeling shut

my titanic heart sinks, i am prey

lost in thought, an image appears

broken ground under the weight

from the deep come rising fears,

sprawling in the dark, an unfathomable state

your twist lasts an age,

you complete your turn and you’re nearer

something inside you, now uncaged

wearing a smile that melts, a healer

close enough to feel the heat of your skin

our eyes meeting, seeing apprehension there,

trying to comfort you, i grin

and take your hand in mine, a moment truly rare

taking the steps we need, dancing slow

heedless of the music that moves us

in time, i feel your flow

i swim the currents of your river thus,

the path you walk, one parallel to my own.

[justintabb]

for now, this will do

a beating heart is now constrained

it cannot swell, it cannot crest

trapped in vice, it lies restrained

living inside it will not rest

a prison in the shape of you

a memo of pain slipped in life

shackled again from the blue

a memory true, the object of strife

thinking more and doing less

my only view, a painted wall plain,

staring deep i can confess

little it does to ease the strain

retreating fast to worldly stories

i need them now for reasons unknown

other lives and other glories

i cannot be, this life my own

from the dark, i feel it looming

finding peace in raw expression

i listen close, to other's weeping,

craving soul, the lasting impression

soul exposed i am unharmed

but lost control, the powers be

i give in, completely disarmed

and let monsters and demons move with me

[justintabb]

A portrait of a kind

One eye is shadowed by the curl of his hair, dead in the dark, unseeing, not looking, staring blankly at the world. Years ago and half a world away, that dying eye would have been painful, but stripped of all emotion, it lies vacant of expression.

Across the bridge of his nose, his other eye bathes in the light, wholly exposed, not quite dead but certainly not living. It’s hanging on, a bead of frozen glass. The reflection is one that is only half seen.

There are lines and bags around each, signs of wear from a battle in his own mind. Scars too, from the world around him. Largely a cause of massive introspection, manifested on a face that is barely his anymore. It’s different from the one in his memory, a stranger’s face on his bones. The dissociation of self and disillusion to reality is a caustic catalyst for a dark path filled with darker thoughts.

Once upon a time he would have described himself as the colour brown, in its entirety. His eyes are brown, his hair a darker shade, his skin a lighter one. His mood on most occasions is muddy and unclear, decidedly brown. More often that not, the thoughts in his head are a steaming pile of brown.

Now though, he’s just old and tired, faded sepia. Hair grown unruly, a hint of beard on his face but largely odd tufts of hair dotted over his neck and cheeks.

Written over his forehead are lines of poetry, creases in his skin not from an expression of wonder and curiosity, but one born in the harshness that comes with eyes made into slits and the edges of a smile tumbling from cliffs. Those lines are distrust and cynicism, too much time spent putting the world at arm’s length, too much time spent being afraid, fearful and angry. It comes as a shock but the thought is his own,

‘Perhaps it’s time to stop looking in the mirror.’

[storyunrelated]

Flash #756

And sometimes you’re confronted with some mundane, tedious detail of everyday life and you’re struck by the realisation that this is what will make up may be ninety-five percent of your time on this earth.

Deciding what to eat. Having to work out what you are and what you aren’t able to afford. Fixing something that’s broken. Arguing with someone you care about. Sitting. Staring. Thinking about nothing because you’re just so tired of it.

And you wonder how much longer it’s going to go on for. And whether any of it is worth the trouble.

[justintabb]

in idle moments

without presence or form

it comes upon - a storm.

a handful of heart squeezing

wringing tears to the fore - seizing.

he tries to still his chest

to call breaths slow from his breast

only to fail, falter and fall

flood gates open, exposing all.

it speaks vile words and putrid thought

threatening and coaxing, taunting distraught.

begging him to give rein to it

to find place and time to committ

to let monsters and demons loose

to feed them so and make memory the noose.

under all there's weakness in its poisoned voice

veiled thickly under vice - a choice.

as tears curve and trace,

marking the contours of his face

realisation dawns,

a sunrise behind storms.

rain in the wake of thunder,

ultimately driving him further.

his tears are his strength

a powerful tool, a weapon that mends.

[justintabb]

Sleepless.

When he woke it wasn’t with a scream, but a violent shake and a stone in his chest. His breath came quick but his mind was slow to release the images in his mind. They existed like a fog on his thoughts, making them come sluggish. In the wane light of his room, they were more than visions. A coat draped over a door became the menacing figure of his dreams. Standing still and stark against the landscape of his room, it paralysed him with fear. His tongue was lead in his mouth and despite the will to cry out, the rush of air from his nostrils was the only sound in the room.

It kept him still. His eyes traced the room, feeling the weight and gaze of the figure pressing down on him. In the cushions of his armchair, the shadows played with the light and she was born. Somehow the curves of cushion gave impression of her sitting idly, staring too but without  anger and intensity. Despite the monolith in the corner of his eye, she soothed him, calmed him. His breaths came slower and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. He imagined her touch on his body and the tension dissipated. She brought him back the comfort sleep was supposed to afford.

The dark shifted. The shadow was upon him. The tightness returned, his composure broke but so did the vice on his throat. He screamed then, a shrill, harrowing sound. Suddenly nightmare and dream were real. They were there with him, manifestations of his identity. The behemoth would not stop, it would not relent, writhing shadow and dark, it consumed him. His hand outstretched to the armchair, left open and empty.

[justintabb]

words come quiet, come slow

bang, bang, bang at the door

thunderous rapture, a call to war

lies in mind and truth outside

kept at bay, is reality denied

two words my dam, a damnation

holding breath i see creation

come flood and tide and strong currents too

lungs afire my mind withdrew

and slowly turns the world

pale, small and blue

[justintabb]

The Unexpected.

His heart sank. A chill started to spread down his left arm. It started from the nook of his elbow and moved slow, lethargic, along his skin, numbing him. It seemed to leech the life from his bones. It kept moving, icy tendrils latching on to the back of his hand, crawling and writing and wrapping around each finger, the third being the last. In a matter of moments, his arm was dead weight, immobile, a lifeless appendage. To his eyes, his skin was pallid, grey even.

The chill didn’t stop there. It reached backwards, up his arm and across his chest, making his heart ache and drawing the breath from his lungs. Although it wasn’t pain, it was natural. It was a question asked and his beating heart was the answer, offered freely to the cold.

The lecherous fingers of ice morphed into hands that gripped and tore, moving quicker over his body, spreading a slow death. The touch was so distinct, a handprint on his chest, a trailing finger seemingly starting at his heart, lingering but moving directly across his neck...

As if the chill had never been so slow, it clenched his entire body at once, biting his skin, leaving marks of glacial affection all over his neck. The cold held him, tight, as lover’s arms to a lover’s leaving, his lungs burning for air he couldn't breathe.

[justintabb]

a day for courage

on evening streets the world is quiet, a closing door and flashing lights.

barely a foot apart a tightness permeates the divide.

a conversation between wind and leaves, deeper than our few words.

my thoughts race but go nowhere, a jumble of words my lips can't speak.

your eyes fixed straight ahead seeing memories, the darkness between trees, the darkness in empty windows.

i hear the constant ticking, second after second, life after life.

a voice tells me to confront you, and a knot is tied, a lump is stuck.

i can't do anything, so i take in the night, bathing in the moonlight.

not knowing what we're doing, or where we're going, or who we are.

i take in the night

[justintabb]

“We wanted more.”

In the wake of a thousand words flung in anger and hate, I stand breathless. Trying to piece together the parts of my mind that lay shattered on the ground. I’m barely moving, just looking, searching with eyes that feel so hollow. The broken glass and torn up pictures, they tug at the stone in my chest, the lifeless lump that doesn’t seem to beat. Even my memories seem numb, moments of happiness and joy are held back by something powerful, I can feel them in the dark recesses of my mind waiting patiently to be let in, but right now standing in the grave of a love lost, they’re not coming. Nothing is coming. My thoughts run slow and sluggish, barely connecting the upturned table and stained walls. I make my way to the chair and sit, with my head in my hands. Fingers gripping my hair tightly and tears welling in my eyes. I’m fighting them back but I don’t know why. My mind won’t let me know why. Eventually, I give in and the flood comes. The tears run hot down my cheeks and I can feel them almost searing my skin. The sobs accompany them, sad, desperate noises. I allow myself the sadness, the hollowness, the sinking pit in my stomach, the looming question of ‘what next?’

The next thought is pain, my heart clenches and apprehension peaks, anxiety and apathy follow. The thought is you. I can see you in perfect detail, as if you’re there hiding in my hands. There’s the shape of your face, the spacing of those deep eyes that always seemed to see so much. There’s your smile and the dimples in your cheeks. There’s the asymmetry of your eyebrows and the slight blemish at the edge of your right eye. There’s the gentle sway of your hair in the wind and the fringe you hid behind.

Then there’s your lips, the sweetest I’d ever tasted, and there’s your tears too. The redness to your eyes and the puffiness to your cheeks and ultimately, there is my destruction. My careless taint, my poison tongue, my fingerprint on your soul, burning it all. 

[justintabb]

Temptation of the Tempest.

The storm, she comes. The unrelenting tempest approaches, bringing with it death and destruction, disease and suffering. She is a fury of a beast, unpredictable and complete in her destruction. She weathers and batters down walls of stone, she tears tents and man alike, up from the ground. She wears her beauty as a mask, a cover of her true nature. Deep clouds of grey and white, lit from within by cracks of lighting light fill the sky. Even with her form in full view, men are transfixed by her vastness, by the raw power she holds; and so, when she comes, their souls belong to her. They give their souls to her beauty and power, only to be claimed by the rampant destruction inside.

Some say that if you survive to her centre, if you break through the chilling wall of rain and gusts of wind; if you survive the storm of rocks and dust, if you dare to conquer that which is so much more than yourself, and survive, in the centre of that storm which brings death so wantonly, you will see her truly as she is. You shall see the heart of the storm.

Some say it is as violent as the outside, that it will tear apart, first your mind then body and soul, that the only mark of your existence will be the rags of your clothes upon the earth. Some say she is as still as a graveyard, that she is at peace with herself, content with her power, that really she is as empty as the lives of men. Though rarely anyone ever asks if she, the centre of the storm, is broken herself and knows not how to control her mind, knows not the pain and suffering she causes? It seems a shame, only a fool would dare to know the heart of the storm. Sometimes I wonder if I am fool enough, or if that title is reserved for better men.

[justintabb]

open up

when the tears stand strong at the brink of your eye, let them loose.

let them flood your face, rid your soul of a pain newly gained.

let them trace your features and make them anew,

sadder and darker for a time, but ultimately more you.

so when you feel them there, hiding behind your eyes,

don’t blink them back, don’t feign your lack of pain.

let them be as their nature desires and watch again,

from ashes will come fires,

from ashes will come fires.