We’re done, me and you. Over.
It’s not you, it’s me – and the sea.
I just can’t take your false camaraderie anymore, your empty promises whispered on fetid breath. Why bother? It’s all just one big, sick joke isn’t it. Ha! You hear that? Bet your laughing policeman is having a right good giggle, don’t you. Well laugh along, mister – while you still can. Feel that rumble as it starts in your belly, warming your gut, dragging in your pretend allies and gushing out of your mouth like a geyser. You make me sick.
Sick to the core.
Keep pedalling my forever-friend, keep going.
I want you off this ride. Now. We can’t keep doing this, this helter skelter hell. Something will have to give and it won’t be me.
I’m betting it won’t be you, either. So where does that leave us? Remember the pact we had, the vow we made? How can something so vital go so wrong? And what happens now…
We both know how this will end. Welcome to Wonderland. Welcome to the cheap seats.
Ah, what a ride – what a journey. And there was me thinking that our sinister tides and black hearts, our secrets, would bind us together for the duration. You know, like brothers in arms; soul mates, friends…
There I go again, having a little chuckle to myself. It’s ironic really, don’t you think? You told me how it would be and what did I do? What was my fatal mistake? I believed you. I trusted you. I looked out of the portholes of my soul, down the street of our existence and saw your smiling face. I mean, look, come on, who wouldn’t fall for that? Yep. Hook, line and concrete boots. Dear me. I should have known.
Should have known better.
So now what?
Do we forget our crimes in wonderland, let the dirty brown tide wash away all our sins and start again? Because we both know, they all float down here. Float like the trust we once shared, float like hope does on golden leaves, float like our hearts once did at life. It’s all worth it in the end.
That’s what you said. And I listened. Silly me.
I can just see us now – my arm slotted through yours as we stroll past the arcades, the boy racers revving their hairdryer engines, wingmen in the passenger seats. Ready to face whatever life throws at them, Ready for the next challenge, ready to rumble, ready to take that step off the parapet of boyhood and fall flat on their faces as men. Together. Here comes the summer, son. Don’t blink.
I hold my hand up, shield my eyes from the glare as you push down on the button and steal another little piece of my soul, etching it immortal and waving the ink dry. Look at those smiles. As wide as the sea. Grinning from ear to ear; just like the smile you gave him. Just like the path the blade took as you rendered his grin permanent – from ear to ear. God help me. God help us now.
I don’t think any more. I just can’t. It hurts too much, hurts my brain. It used to be perfect. It’s got to be perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist – not now. The attraction has faded, lost its gloss, muted its shine. Dull steel, that’s what this is now. The fairground has closed – for the summer – perhaps forever.
But you’ll still take my pennies, won’t you.