Sketchy Things

Benjamin Campbell - 20 years old, Yorkshire born and bred, somehow ended up in Oxford. Writes a ridiculous amount of prose and poetry and some of it is almost good. Lives in this cluttered tumblr page amongst a variety of words, pictures and sounds, and occasionally makes sense of it all. Seeking like-minded individuals to add and remove clutter and perhaps stay for tea. I also write poetry on request for free! ------------------------------------ Creative Commons Licence
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24/6/2014 - Chocolate
From your skin, white as milk, to your chocolate eyes - I could eat every part of you, gobble you up without pause, without thought, like the wolf. Except a wolf couldn’t trap you with words like I can. ———————————————————— My father would bring me Swiss chocolate whenever he came back home. It was like an apology, but I didn’t mind. Only when I grew up, and took planes myself, I realised what an afterthought duty-free chocolate really is. ———————————————————— What if I told you that all your money was really a sad collection of chocolate coins? You could eat them,  of course, but  after a while you’d realise your loss - those coins could melt in the morning sun, just like everything about you.
                    - Benjamin Campbell
23/6/2014 - String
You said “How much do you love me?” but why ask such questions? To see the full extent of my feelings you’d have dent the world’s ceiling. Like string, my love is double half its length. A dove might glimpse it, carve out love’s entrance - my heart’s semblance. ———————————————————— Here in eleven dimensions I am reduced to string, the key to life, the universe and everything. I slip through quantum fields and around supergravity, and all the players dance to my tune - but at the sight of a microscope I vanish, leaving only dust in my wake. ———————————————————— How could I know I was stringing him along? Girls just want to have fun, but it seems every move I make is a signal to someone.  I feel like a traffic light. And not just because everyone stares, waiting to see if I’ll flash, disappointed when I don’t - I’m just doing what I feel is natural. Why is everything a symbol? I didn’t ask for this. But the doubt creeps in - and after I’m released  from the police station, blackened and bruised, I can’t help but ask myself - was I stringing him along after all?
                    - Benjamin Campbell
22/6/2014 - Watt
As Huxley said, all credit to James Watt for helping us to understand that trains must leave at a precise, final moment. There is no room for error these days - you are either on the train, or you are  not - and this is what made us realise that death is not so very far away. ———————————————————— What I wouldn’t do, to have such  ample gifts in electric words as masterful Voltaire. ———————————————————— He didn’t know the fence was electrified when he touched it. He didn’t know it when a hundred thousand watts of electro-static energy coursed through his flesh and stopped his heart. What use is all this knowledge if it can’t stop my tears?
                    - Benjamin Campbell