Saturday, 24 October 2015

There is silence in understanding and most of it is because of grief choked inability to speak.

I'm in the middle of transcending into the chorus of the song my soul insists on singing to me in the middle of the night,
My fingertips dry and my brain runs out of ink
my blood runs out of liquid  hate
My subconscious grows tired of enduring my lust and I grow weary of longing for death
I cannot write like I used to
The words on the page shudder and gasp

breathing their last

I wake up clothed in sweat and dreams. The enchantment of the illusion you were, baby.
It was beautiful because it wasn't real
I remember with vivid detail what I shouldn't dwell on
I breathe in the perspiration of your memories , I have
tried unwinding this track; my brain
was not meant for reclining 
And you were not meant to be forgotten
Atleast not by me and I am rapidly becoming a patchwork of crusty memories salted with tears that are too old to be eaten and to heartbreaking to be remembered by me, at this night 2 am  alone.
I want you to know that I waited the twentieth anniversary of the day I was born going against my principles and resigning to heartbreak when I resolved to wait till the next 12 o clock for the person who never cared.
I want her naked heart winding around the songs my listless soul has sung for her I want her
to wake up to a gaping void where I used to be and above everything I want her to regret letting go of me
And above everything and that I want to not miss her like I still love her.

Wednesday, 21 October 2015

Oblivion beckons

She loved mysteries and so she became one -John Green

What if in the pursuit of making art , in the  wild chase through the woods of burning feelings into paper and calling it poetry, of making the world weep like you wept, in hot pursuit of burning scars like copycat marks into every soul that chanced on a collision course with you, you were turning into the ashes of the mistakes you made but you were too busy searching for paper to record them to realise it ? What if in the eternal drive to make something beautiful out of the mess her world had spiralled into , she failed to realise as her being tore at the seams and spilled her insides to the world that never dared to care and never had , what if the chase for unconditional love slanted her limbs into a twisted destruction of the girl she once was , a ghost flitting through the walls that caged her memories and her demons and eventually it didn't matter which was which because she couldn't tell the difference or didn't want to, it was all the same when the world blacked out into an ocean that was bent on swallowing you and you were broken boned and drunk on the waves of life, trying to stay afloat and stay alive, and there was no light to cling to,no call to save the day , no ex best friend that thought to catch up this particular night, when you longer found being alive as attractive as the alternative , when breathing fire into your tired lungs seemed easier than the air the world was reluctant to give you, what if the during the fight , you began to forget about winning because after everything you lost, losing yourself didn't seem like such a bad idea either.