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Infinite Carnage
*Inspired by 'Out of the blue by Simon Armitage'*
The memories flash almost as instantaneously and as bright as the destruction itself; so bright that my eyes burn flames of revulsion at the sight of each blinking image. Brief but devastating reminders of the panic, images of innocent bodies twirling amongst charcoal clouds appear like lightning, completely out of the blue. No matter what I do, there is something which triggers an unsolicited and haunting flashback. As I peg a freshly laundered shirt on the washing line it flutters in the wind; I am reminded of a man, waving a clean white cotton shirt, appearing boldly amidst thick, choking dust. Destitute and alone the solitary man desperately begged for help and attention, just waving. But it wasn't a frantic, panicked wave; it was the actions of a man clinging cynically onto last hopes of survival.
A sudden gust of guilt rushes over me with the same sudden impact that hit me that day. The memories just don’t fade, I remember every detail. Usually a photographic memory is something that one aspires to have, but this time I would really rather retain no memory at all.
I often sit alone, re-seeing all that is now ashes and rubble. I feel as if it’s a sin, to be even thinking about it, but I don’t want to. I would do anything to wipe my memory; a clean slate. Yet, there is no real way to heal scars. Constant cycles in my mind; falling, twirling, burning, tumbling, crumbling, rumbling like thunder. The silence is almost as deafening and as equally eerie as the scene after the towers fell. These things aren't ever meant to happen.
Thinking of the ones that were lost, the ones who I saw when I was standing there, staring up at the sky; so many were lost, that now I feel completely alone, like a single match glowing dimly in utter darkness waiting to burn out. And now I'm falling, tumbling, twirling further into the darkest memories of that day, my mind is deteriorating and with it my body will surely be soon to follow, and it will be me hitting the concrete.
*Inspired by 'Out of the blue by Simon Armitage'*
The memories flash almost as instantaneously and as bright as the destruction itself; so bright that my eyes burn flames of revulsion at the sight of each blinking image. Brief but devastating reminders of the panic, images of innocent bodies twirling amongst charcoal clouds appear like lightning, completely out of the blue. No matter what I do, there is something which triggers an unsolicited and haunting flashback. As I peg a freshly laundered shirt on the washing line it flutters in the wind; I am reminded of a man, waving a clean white cotton shirt, appearing boldly amidst thick, choking dust. Destitute and alone the solitary man desperately begged for help and attention, just waving. But it wasn't a frantic, panicked wave; it was the actions of a man clinging cynically onto last hopes of survival.
A sudden gust of guilt rushes over me with the same sudden impact that hit me that day. The memories just don’t fade, I remember every detail. Usually a photographic memory is something that one aspires to have, but this time I would really rather retain no memory at all.
I often sit alone, re-seeing all that is now ashes and rubble. I feel as if it’s a sin, to be even thinking about it, but I don’t want to. I would do anything to wipe my memory; a clean slate. Yet, there is no real way to heal scars. Constant cycles in my mind; falling, twirling, burning, tumbling, crumbling, rumbling like thunder. The silence is almost as deafening and as equally eerie as the scene after the towers fell. These things aren't ever meant to happen.
Thinking of the ones that were lost, the ones who I saw when I was standing there, staring up at the sky; so many were lost, that now I feel completely alone, like a single match glowing dimly in utter darkness waiting to burn out. And now I'm falling, tumbling, twirling further into the darkest memories of that day, my mind is deteriorating and with it my body will surely be soon to follow, and it will be me hitting the concrete.