Writing idea 1Brutal sport, ice hockey
barely on the iced battleground and already a fierce chill stiffs the body of all: all emotion, feeling, especially distraction. Yet, simultaneously, it drives them hyperactively. Making passion unquenchable, power unstoppable
Making anger illogical, the only answer.When you're on the ice, you don't feel the cold of the air, only the heat of your objective. On the ice, all that matters is that puck towards the other end, towards the opponent's goal.And making sure they feel as much pain that can be inflicted.The blades slashing against the surface of crystal hell, my skates propelling me forward at tackling speed, puck at ready.Strike, the puck soars.Cracks the head gear of the goalie, impact making him fall back.Puck goes in.Exhilaration and ecstasy burn through my bones, victory screaming in my head.That used to be me, the violent one. The top of the team, MVP and whatever. Even though all I cared about, on the ice, was to do my best. That
My Lovely BonesMy Lovely BonesAlthough benign,In peace, I denyA reality in whichAll else is revived.From shattered hopesAnd forgotten dreams,This place I seeIs a supposedBeauty, supposedWonder, supposedFable.But I know otherwiseI know, I knowOf not.Not of what is,But of what isn't.Albeit a calm,Albeit serenity,I know not this place.It is not true.For, if it were,Breathing would not seemSo hard.And, alas, I now knowWhy.At least, one thingI knowOf this place.Although I am here,Physical, does not exist.For I who exists hereIs but my Lovely Bones.