Resonate

The words seem to stare at me up from the page,
Relighting the passion that has numbed with age,
Seem to match my emotions as if they were gauged,
Maturity grants freedom but takes innocence as wage.

Burdens

Drifting away but still in the room
Indifferent stares make the nerves bloom
So many things that I could say
I'll just be witty another day

Shackled to burdens
Burning out on my own
Like the shooting star
That no one ever saw

Script 3

1. INT. APARTMENT - DAY

Three young men, all of whom appear to be in their early 20s, are sat down chatting in a living room - we join them in the middle of a rather deep conversation.

Steve - (animated)...so that's how it is, I'm tellin' you. The universe is just vomit sprayed out on to some sort of spacey canvas. Our planet is like, y'know, a chunk in the vomit.

Terry - (confused) You seriously believe that?

Steve - Well, it's definitely a possibility y'know. Just saying, I'd find it pretty funny to see how all these religious wackos will react when they find out we're just a colossal chunder.

Terry - Hmm, it'd be interesting, but I imagine it's quite a long shot. There's a lot of other stuff the universe could be, aside from vomit.

James - (unconvinced) Mate, what a crock of shit. If we're just a load of fuckin' sick, then who the fuck threw us up?!

Steve - A supreme being, you knob.

James - Shut it Stephen Hawking - you've had one spliff and you think you're fuckin' off into space, learning the "nature of the universe". Off your tits, more like.

Terry - Nah man, I think Steve's definitely got half a point. Anything's possible, y'know. Who's to say that we aren't just someone's dream, or hallucination, or whatever.

Steve - That kind of thinking's mostly been done Terry - I genuinely reckon I can work wonders with this vomit stuff. Write some pretentious philosophical book, make thousands of pounds. I'll be raking it in.

James - Making money out of a book on vomit. A new fuckin' low mate. In fact, I'd say it would make me sick to my stomach, but I don't reckon I could stand the smirk you'd have on your face due to the irony, or whatever it is you call it. You don't half talk some shit.

Steve - Deary me James, I think you definitely need to unwind and relax, I was only speculating. I also think we could do without the constant swearing too, what d'ya reckon?

James - You really are a fuckin' mug. You better have ordered food an' all, I'm dying for some grub mate.

Steve - Yeah, I did that a while ago -- when I think about it, how come you didn't order? I'm the potential writer, after all. Us intellectuals, we need all the spare time we have to think you see.

Terry - You're even winding me up now Steve, just zip it. There's only so much this brotherly bond can take.

James - Blood is thicker than water mate, and Steve is just piss. Always remember that.

Steve - When did this turn into a rant against me? You'll both be begging me for friendship when 'Primordial Puke' becomes a number one bestseller.

Terry - You just don't know when to give it a rest, do you Steve?

James - If this book ever gets to number one, I'll buy one just to be sick all over it. Notice the irony in that, eh Steve?

Steve - I highly recommend you don't do that, 'cos if you personally ever ended up becoming the God of some small society, James, it would no doubt end up being a horrific dystopia for all the poor inhabitants involved.

James - Well, it's a good thing your entire philosophy is a load of wank then, isn't it?

Terry - (laughs, gets up due to knock at the door but still talking)
I think he's got you there Stevie. Give it more of a think when your mind isn't up in the clouds, deciding which ones look like Pokémon.
(opens door, takes food and brings it into the other 2)
Is the four cheese one yours Steve? Genuinely looks like vomit.

Memory

3.42pm

Today wasn't exactly a good day for us. All the effort and time we'd invested into our tree fort was undone, all in a few swift kicks and punches. Year 5s smashed it to pieces. Again.

What I often wonder is if they've got anything better to do with their time, you know? I truly loved that fort, tried my best to protect it. Just looking at something after you've finished it...the moment you become proud makes the entire building process worthwhile.

I guess the Year 5s don't understand pride, or the joy of creation. I find that a bit weird seeing as they're 2 years older than me. Their entire ideology and way of life seems alien to mine. I'm not sure whether I'll ever understand just smashing something that belongs to someone else. I know I don't own the tree, but the idea was ours. We would have enjoyed sitting in that branchy alcove on a nice day like today.

The sun shining on a backdrop of blue, not a cloud in sight.

8.31pm

It's starting to get cold out here in my garden. Just lying on the grass staring up above has become a favourite pastime of mine recently, especially before bed.

The stars are plentiful in number. Probably because there were very few clouds today. I mean, fluffy clouds look really nice when the weather is good for it, but I'm always glad when the stars and space can be viewed easily.

This would be a lot better if my eyes worked properly - my glasses got smashed today, in the now infamous-amongst-Year 3 'Tree Fort Scuffle'. Mum wasn't too happy about that, but I told her the lenses died for a good cause.

All I can see is a gigantic black void with blurry gems here and there. Must be hundreds of them. I wonder what constellations and famous stars I'm bearing witness to right now, without even realising it.

Good eyes or bad eyes, you can't deny the beauty of the sky right now.

Money

Some say it destroys people,
I guess I can see why.
Others call it the root of all evil,
It's definitely made me cry.
"Ignore the poor and feel regal"
The question I ask is why?

Script 2

[1 enters the local pub and sees 2 sat down in a far corner, alone, with a horrified expression on his face. 1 buys a round and joins his friend.]

1: Jesus, what happened to you? Has the sight of modern civilisation finally made an impact on your neurotic brain?

2: I have just had the single most shocking experience in my entire life on my way down here.

1: What?

2: Well, I was walking along, minding my own business - as you do - when the Big Issue bloke who's always outside the Four Arms - you know the one right? - He came up to me and said ---

1: I can't say I know who you're referring to but I'll take a wild stab in the dark as to what he said [hesistates]..."Big Issue, Big Issue"?

2: Don't get lippy, this story will change your perspective of all Big Issue salesman who currently work under the light of the Sun.

1: Why is the voice of reason inside my head now telling me that I should have bought a much stronger drink...

2: He comes and says "Would you like a copy of the Big Issue, sir?" and I just said "No thank you, I'm in a rush" blah blah blah, the usual bollocks you say to get out of it. But seriously, after I declined this guy started going mental, lobbing copies of the magazine at me and everything - started shouting about how he's gonna find me and tear me apart and feed my body to the homeless masses and all this stuff...I scarpered off, naturally, but it's been playing on my mind ever since.

1: Seriously? Well, what did he look like?

2: ...I guess he was a bit of a big guy...a few tattoos here and there. He had that "I'm an ex-convict" look about him, biceps the size of my head - you know the sort. I shouldn't have expected any better of a Big Issue salesman I suppose.

1: I hate to say this, but of all the Big Issue sellers I've ever seen, I don't think even one has resembled an ex-Borstal boy with "R.I.P MUM" indented into his forehead. Are you sure he was selling magazines or just holding some?

2: Of course he was selling, what do you think am, an idiot?! Oh yes, I should have guessed as much - its all one big laugh for you isn't it? My life was placed in the firing line by a man who has clearly seen more weapons pulled out on him than a soldier.

1: You want my honest opinion? If he was a legitimate Big Issue street-sales guy he was probably just having a bad day - I mean, yeah it's a bit extreme, but the guy's poor and just trying to get by. You should have known better than to get mouthy really.

2: [angrily shouting now, people around begin to stare at him - 1 looks embarrassed throughout] Oh, so it's MY fault now?! MY fault that I just so happened to run into a nut-job who quite clearly possesses less social etiquette than that of an ape? A man who is so disturbingly psychotic that he chooses to spend the remains of his destitute life threatening the secured classes of society by claiming the impoverished will EAT them?!?!

1: I definitely think you're taking this a tad too seriously...then again, nothing new there I suppose

2: I just find it very annoying that you always go against me, no matter what the scenario may be. If I'd had my flat raided by burglars, you'd still probably come out with [mocking tone] "Oh, well maybe they were having a bad day, ra ra ra, blah blah blah---"

1: LISTEN! I'm not going against you, I was -- look, can we please just change the subject?!

2: [pacified but still agitated] Fine. How's your day been anyway, get that computer sorted?

1: Don't ask, finding out what's specifically wrong with it has been harder than I ever could have imagined, they're sending a repair bloke out to me within the next week.

2: Why didn't you just ask me to sort it in the first place? I worked for that computer firm near my place for years, I could tell what was wrong with it in an instant, I bet you.

1: I think that what you have just suggested is possibly the worst idea ever to have been created by a human mind.

2: [sarcastically, rising again] Oh REALLY. And why, Mr. Cynic, is it such a bad suggestion?!

1: Do you want the novella or the long, Russian novel style, epic version?

2: Just spit it out.

1: Well isn't it obvious? You're too angry. One mistake and you'd destroy my computer. Seriously, therapy wouldn't go amiss with you.

[2 is now so infuriated that he storms out of the pub, leaving his drink half-finished. 1 sees him through the window storming down the street]

Man By The Bar: What's his problem?

1: He's just upset cos he lost a copy of the Big Issue.

Script

[Two men sit in a living room; one is tampering with his computer as a means to repair it, the other sits on a sofa reading a magazine]

1: Stupid, infernal - [electrical fizz, indicating that something has indeed gone wrong]...this really isn’t going well.

2: Who’s Ed?

1: [Looks up from what he is doing] Ed?

2: Why do some magazines randomly have ‘Ed’ next to certain phrases? I mean, is there a guy named “Ed” who goes around printing houses, adding in his own quips as a sort of commentary to the article?

1: [Resigns back to his broken computer] Your stupidity really has broken new boundaries. It means ‘Editor’. It’s so the Editor can add his own thoughts or insight when, y’know, editing the magazine.

2: [Genuinely surprised] Oh yeah! That never crossed my mind really.

1: Just stick the TV on or something - I imagine if I hear your inane babbling for much longer I’ll probably start regressing.

2: [Beats his chest jokingly, accompanied by random grunts. Turns TV on.] Where’s the remote? It’s stuck on some channel showing a Sean Connery movie. I can’t stand Sean Connery.

1: Why? [in mock Scottish accent] He’s not that bad.

2: He’s another prime example of an actor who doesn’t act. How he ever fit the requirements of the job description, I’ll never know. I mean, you could put him in an adaptation of “Tarzan”, a man devoid of any human contact for his entire lifespan, and he’d still talk in that embarrassing Scottish accent.

1: Alright, alright, you’ve made your point. I don’t know where the remote is. Get up and change it manually.

2: Can’t be bothered. What are we doing today, haven’t you fixed that computer yet?

1: Funnily enough the insides of a computer aren’t composed of 3 simple wires. It’s a delicately constructed system, intricate in almost all of its aspects. A true cornerstone of engineering. I’m sure these things might come as a shock to you, Mr. Neil Anderthal.

2: Will you please stop with the Caveman digs? If you don’t fix it soon I may just have to abandon you and find something magical to keep me occupied.

1: Then go. You’re probably the reason I can’t fix this thing.

2:[Stands up, heads out the door] I’ll ring you later or something. My mind isn’t feeling too great to tell you the truth.

1: What happened to the magical exploits?

2: Well um...I don’t know. I’m hungover, the loud noise of a pub or the jostling of a busy street would be the end of me. See you tonight, I’m sure.

1: Ah yes, I still need to conduct my brain experiments.

2: Hilarious. [Exits]

1: [Gives up repairing the computer and desperately tries to find the helpline in the manual] Customer services...helpline...ah, here it is. [Dials the number]

3: [An employee of the computer firm answers in a thick Scottish accent] How can I help?

1: [Laughs at the thought of Sean Connery sat down at a companies customer service desk] Tarzan?