Words to Tie to Bricks Read Online Free PDF

monotonous grey.
    We move so fast on this train.
    But we must shut the Doors tightly
    To keep the faces out.
    For an unsettling truth is descending.
    The windows are fracturing,
    The hinges rusting.
    The Doors are opening.
    And their fingers are what pull
    And pry them apart.
    Dust gathers on the tracks,
    It catches in the wheels.
     

Immortal Jellyfish
    A NDREW D UFFY
    I T ’ S QUITE ROMANTIC , ISN ’ T IT – the idea of immortality? The
notion that one individual could, in spite of all odds, withstand the test of time and live into infinity. Think of all the glorious wonders you could achieve. You could change the world. Heal it,
improve it, teach the countless generations you would live through how to build a utopia. Or you could go down the path of control and domination – due to the lack of knowledge and experience
that mortals suffer from, you could easily control the planet for the everlasting duration of your lifespan. You could control anyone; you will certainly encounter enemies but you will also possess
the time and knowledge to punish and torture them.
    But perhaps the one who suffers the most in your infinite lifespan is you yourself. All that you grow to love and cherish during your time will wither and die while you remain fit and alive. The
music that comforts you will only play for several decades. The sports and games you have developed a fondness for will eventually change until they are almost unrecognisable. The languages you
acquired during your endless travels will become gibberish in several hundred years. All these vast changes will occur until you are left feeling alone, empty and helpless, adrift in the currents
of time. There you will be in a cold ocean of infinity where one can truly say, ‘I am alone.’ Believe me when I say I know. You don’t make friends when you’re an immortal
jellyfish.
     

Give It To Me Straight
    A MY C AMPBELL
    Your eyes wide with the question,
    But I don’t know what to say.
    There’s no right way to phrase this,
    It wasn’t meant to be this way.
    Each second we are silent
    Drops off of us like rain.
    I really should say something,
    You must think I’m insane.
    I try and fail to make something up,
    But to lie you must be calm.
    I gibber out the awkward question.
    ‘Oh,’ you laugh, ‘I am.’
     

Check the Box
    O RLA M C G OVERN
    ‘I’m a girl.’
    ‘I’m not.’
    ‘I’m neither.’
    ‘I’m both.’
    ‘I’m Catholic.’
    ‘I’m Protestant.’
    ‘I’m atheist.’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘I’m homosexual.’
    ‘I’m straight.’
    ‘I’m asexual.’
    ‘I’m bi.’
    I feel like I should know
    Which label’s mine.
     

On the Other Hand, Flowers
    (An excerpt from a work in progress)
    C ATHERINE B OWEN
    D ECLAN SNIFFLED AND WIPED HIS running nose into the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His damp clothes hung off the fire guard behind him. He sat
hunched on the stones of the hearth with his back to the flames. His mother had wanted to run him a bath but he was too stubborn to ever willingly take more than one soak a week, even while
shivering. He began to regret this decision as a tickling feeling started to crawl up his throat. He knew he was getting a cold.
    The idea of being sick over the weekend irritated him. This occurrence would normally have elicited a feeling of outrage from Declan. Normally, however, there were things to
do
at the
weekend.
    It had been raining and sleeting continuously for a full week now.
    Every lunch and break time, the teachers kept the students locked inside. Not that the girls minded. They giggled and coloured and were generally as annoying as usual. Meanwhile Declan and the
other boys clutched their hurleys and pressed their faces mournfully up against the glass of the windows.
    By Friday it had reached the point that the boys had run off at the end of school to the field by the river to play. The rain had eased into a drizzle which clung to their jumpers in droplets.
The river was