Obsidian Flavours

Of the many flavours we are sent to savour, which can we honestly claim, takes precedence over love? As the shackled nuances and obsidian reprieve of words throws a plethora of diversions our way it is, so much easier to act disinterested rather than accept loneliness.
So we all choose to believe the delusion over the illusion.A monotonous list of ‘wants’ to combat the ache yet unaccounted for; I want freedom, I want independence (because we had to think of another alternative for freedom to make the list seem longer), I want family, I want success, I want to impress, I want fame and lets not forget (as if we could) I want beauty.


A perennial list of squabbles, mixed faith and misinterpreted impressions. But how does one deny that what we truly seek ‘is’ the illusion? That despite and in spite of our multiplex modern palette, we want to be rescued. We long for the illusion to beget all the ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’. The illusion of singing in the rain, Hollywood kisses and soul mate serendipity The illusion of one Kodak click crystallised in polaroid and for one silver screen fantasy to immortalise in 35mm. The ephemeral mirage of rainbow skies and stardust eyes.

And even though we insist ‘love’ is overrated and overused, it remains without question the one illusion that can never do justice unto itself.

The rebel needs it.
The sage needs it
The whore needs it
The prodigy needs it
The princess needs it
The dumb blonde needs it
The crone needs it
The punk needs it
The murderer needs it

And the murdered need it