Way Too Faded (WTF)

Walking, walking on my hands. Hands that stare and breathe and make love. Walking on top of faded clouds of green and brown, upside down. Colour me special. Look at my face, how my hands creep, how my eyes weep for themselves like what they see is the saddest thing. Looking down from the middle of the sky. Not too high. But faded enough to think about myself and how my wealth is in my interactions with the ground. Walk me to the door please. Get in touch with me when you're done. Walk out and never come back until you do, but never warn me. Warm me. I'm so cold in this freezing room with the windows wide shut. Make sense to me. Make me a legend. I will take you and make you faded. My hands walk off the edge of fhe world and lead my body back down to the ground. But my mind is the last one to get there. Always somewhere else when it's needed, no regrets or thinking. Just. Faded.

Runaway

I've been hiding for the past few days. Sometimes I just need to be incognito for everything to make sense. I'm no longer part of the anything, but I'm still something, you know? Anyway. Big shiut out to my friend who let me crash at his place for the past few days. I really needed to kust get away from myself and that was the perfect thing. Now that I'm back, I just lock myself up in my room and wait for the sun to go down. It's a bit sad, admittedly, but honestly I don't mind. At least I can keep my head and my thoughts away from the outside world. Also, it's been a while but I decided to free myself of my mind and get out of my body. A form of meditation. It worked so wonderfully well, I hate to admit. Well, the next piece is about my experience. I hope you enjoy it...

Lonely Man

Sing, lonely man, of your heart breaking and your blood cooling to ice. Of successes that arent yours but failures that are. Are you not scared? You weep more often than you sow. Miserable, lonely man who doesn't know what he's been made for. Puppet skin pulled taut over robot flesh. Big brown eyes with no vision in sight. Take pride in your shame lonely man, for you are one of many to walk down this path believing that you are alone. Suck on your ripped gums, the taste of iron blood staining your tongue red with cold hard profanity and disbelief. You, lonely man, make yourself lonely and wallow in chasms of fecal self pity of your own making. You are cold and blind in the middle of the sun but you cling to spontaneity for sanity and a sense of purpose. Take your lonliness, lonely man. And wrap yourself in it. It's the only thing of substance you have left.

Meh

I'm going to cheat a bit today. This is it for the warm up. Sorry. My day just went left really quickly. I hope you enjoy this next one.

Sugar Cane Season

My Sugar Cane.
You, naturally sweet
But your tough outer shell scares me.
It reminds me of bleeding mouths screaming for more
More
Biting and scratching and peeling away at the hardness.
It hurts.
But it's so easy to get lost in the sweet familiarity of a cocktail of pain and pleasure.
A picture of cracked lips
Gums torn to shreds and teeth crooked
Gaping cavities fit for royalty
A tooth with a holy crown.
Slippery snake tongue forever the truthful jester
Lapping up the sweet juices of your innermost inner.
Sugar cane season.

Om Nom Nom

Doubling up again for this month. I sometimes see people walking around on the street who inspire me, not because of who they are or the amazing altruistic deeds that they have done, just the image of them and how I can see a bit of myself in them. Needless to say, the person who was walking along the street was holding sugar cane. It then clicked that it was actually sugar cane season, and I remembered the long afternoons sitting outside gnawing at the bamboo-like outer shell to get to the sweet fibrous sugary goodness in the middle. My gums would always end up being ripped to shreds and bleeding by the end of the ordeal, but somehow it was worth it. This next piece is somewhat of a comparison of that experience.

I Wish

I wish I looked like you. I wish I spoke like you. Had confidence like you, had success like you. I wish I had love like you. I wish I had hope like you. I wish I knew where I was going like you. You are what I wish I was like. But I wish you were curious like me. I wish you felt, like me. I wish you loved like me, I wish you would take breaks like me. I wish you saw the beauty in everyone like me. I wish you enjoyed seeing people smile like me. I wish you would hurt like me. So you could understand why I feel like being me isn't enough, but I'd never have it any other way.

Shooting stars behind the clouds

It's finally August and we can finally get away from the July slump that took so much out of us! August brings new challenges, new plans, new things that we have to do in order to be orderly. And so on, and so on. But, at the end of it all, we still may not be satisfied. It's a weird perpetual cycle that we as humans go around for the majority of our lives. I like to call it wishing on a shooting star that's behind the clouds. We may see a flash or two of the star and our wish might work, but when we see the next shooting star, we'll always have another wish lined up and so on and so on. Anyway. This next very short piece has a bit to do with that idea. I hope you enjoy it though.

Letter Writing Lessons

I wrote you a letter once. You must not have got it, or I must not have sent it. Doesn't matter anyway, we don't talk much anymore and that's fine by me. I have enough voices in my head to keep me conversaturated 24/7. They know me better than you ever did, or ever will. But, I know they aren't real. Just figments of my overactive imagination. You know, that place where everything makes sense. I doubt you'd know about it. We stopped making sense some time ago. I wish they were real though, so I wouldn't have to shut my eyes to block out the bull. I wished so many times on every falling star that they would be real. I know it isn't going to happen, but, what is life without hope? I could explain to you in 10 000 words and photographs, but I doubt you'd pay much attention. You rarely do. You see the surface, but deep down, there's a whole team of sadness anchoring this iceberg to the floor. It's cold, and heavy and hard to keep in place, but at the same time, it's a crutch that keeps me balanced and able to walk into anything. I'm sure you've noticed it. The way I look into the absent minded space between here and there. There's always a memory in that place that brings back some kind of feeling. And there's always a reminder when I catch myself that I'm supposed to be elsewhere. And then I come back. And I end up doing something stupid, like writing you a letter I know one way or another, you'll never get to read. It's how I stay connected to my emotions. I put them down on an arbitrary piece of paper and put them away, never to be seen by anyone else. Sometimes though, I'll let you see what I've written, just to show you how far away from what I want to be I am. Just to show you I do feel pain and loneliness. Just to tell you that I wish you were listening.

One More For July

So I've decided that I'll publish two pieces this month. Firstly, because I've really been slacking and secondly because I have some things that needed time to make sense to me before I try put them down. July... Wow... July has been a rollercoaster so far, and I don't know how I've almost made it off without shitting my pants, but here I am. Not much else to say, really. I just hope I can get to sleep after this...

We Ran

We ran. Hand in hand to the end of the stars. Blind deaf and dumb to everything, eyes bright and hearts open. We ran, never turning away from what lay before us, galaxies in our eyes, mouths open, sucking in the starlight. We ran hard, we ran far, barefoot moonwalking. Hope hopping, heart pounding, toothless smile, swallowing up the mortals' universe. Taking in everything. Feeling with numb pores and false extremities. We ran. We ran so far we forgot where we started, Caroline. We ran so hard we forgot about time. Our time. We put our fate in time's hands and we got the starry eyed love we wanted. The yellow dress, blue shorts, white t-shirt love that we dreamed about together by ourselves. And we never wanted the dream to fade so, we ran, Caroline. We signed the deed without a thought. Hollow framed, skin and bones us. You held my hand and we jumped from the precipice of reality. Our past leaving, seeping through our pores. We might have stopped at the bottom when we caught our balance, but, we couldn't. Your hand felt so perfect in mine, and we ran. Away from the blurry mess behind us. The stars lay before us, and we didn't stop. We ran. Into space, our own reality of stars and planets and galaxies that were smaller. Smaller than you and I. We were bigger than the universe, bigger than everything. But then time, Caroline. We went so far we ended up at the beginning of the end. And we had to let go. We had to part ways. I'm sorry I'm only writing you now. You mean the world to me but, I felt the way we left it was for the best. Still starry eyed, still hearts pounding, mouths gaping galaxies, blind deaf and dumb to the world. Your yellow dress turned to black and gold as you turned away from me for the last time. A tear of moonlight ran down my cheek as I reminded myself that I loved you, and turned my back to go my own way as well.

Running and Hiding

So I've been very quiet of late. Things haven't been quite as good as I had hoped/planned, so I decided to postpone my writings for this month. That doesn't mean you won't get anything. Oh no no no, I have archives upon archives to give you people. Only bit by bit though, because some of the wounds that bled some of these poems are still quite raw and quite painful. So I'll share some of the more easy to handle ones. Also, my sincerest apologies to everyone who has tried to contact me/message me/all the communication me. I've kinda cut myself off from the outside world (whatever isn't my immediate surroundings) for a few weeks. Hopefully by mid July I'll be back on top of my game and focusing, but yeah. The piece that I'll be sharing today is one that is very close to my heart. I wrote it in 2014 when my significant other at that time and I went our separate ways. The rest is pretty self explanatory, but as I'm sure you're well aware, much of my poetry exists in a sort of parallel space (almost like my imagination, but cooler) and so the images and such are far from literal, but they are just fine all the same. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I Don't Want To Remember

Stained blood red pieces of my soul left off the floor. The grass outside tickles my toes. My mind hurts from the outside in, my insides trying to get out, I... Send them the wrong way... Into the blood and emptiness that took so much away from me. It's hard to see, but soft to feel, the warm wet slippery remains of what was and shouldn't have been. Strands of my hair stuck between her teeth as she moves from between my legs. I have no regrets, but I loathe the pain that takes its place. Sip sip swallow. Make me come, beat my heart like a drum and break it. It's not that hard to fake it, I am, will, won't, be satisfied by my drunk pride or... Just drunk. Falling over, heading over, head over heels and... Its over. I didn't want it to end, but now I don't want to remember my member in her(breathe). I pulled off and tied up that soggy pup and sent it to the trash. I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't face the truth that was Ruth... No... What was her name again? I don't want to remember... I'd run away if I could but I'd want to come back. I mean return, of course. The intercourse was... not that great, on to dessert full of hurt and shut the fuck up you fuck up or I'll fuck you up the ass with this tall glass of whatever I want you to drink today because tomorrow, I don't want to remember. But im stuck in this loop of blood bean soup and vaginal goop. It left a weird smell on me that I can't seem to shake off. I shake off the excess; shake off the post-sex. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, just a long day" I don't know what to say. Its murderous this, bliss that I'll always never miss. And, I don't want to remember. I would look her in the eye, but I've seen deeper into her and the surface is different. I can't put my finger on it but... Shit, too late...

Parental Guidance is Advised

After much consideration, I've decided to cut the bull and kick my writing into high gear. I've had a bit of a block for the kast two months, and it recently dawned upon me that maybe I'm trying too hard to get the words right. Theoretically they ahould just flow out, right? Well... That's where things get a little dizzy. See, I find value in vulgar language. It makes writing and understanding how people feel a lot easier and it also manages to pack quite a punch when it comes to imagery. I have included some vulgar language in my writings but not nearly enough to fully depict what the state of my mind was at the time of inception. This being said, it isn't a deliverate practice that I am looking to engage in, it's something that I'm more likely to throw in for added effect without fear or inhibition. I've been trying to keep my work quiet, laid back and non-aggresive, but really that isn't as accurate a representation as I would like. The real stories that I want to tell are dark and with a few curses here and there, they seem to allow things to fall into place quite nicely. With that being said, I feel like my block will unblock itself with time and with determination, introspection and some solid hours putting pen to paper (or typing, really). Like most ideas though, this one didn't come from nowhere. I recently reread a poem I wrote at the end of 2013 (i think) and I recognised a part of me that had been hidden since then. As a thank you to my vulgar self three years ago, I'll let you guys read that poem now. Enjoy!

I Was A Mountain

I was a rock. I was a strong mountain holding up the world. I was immense, and strong willed and powerful. But the rain. The rain came and whittled me down to nothing but fine dust, finer than the softest touch. Then I became the breeze. I was the breeze blowing from North to East to South to West. I was strong, I was forceful, and my fury was like a thousand thousand hurricanes beating a drum. But the gale would eventually settle, and i became the sand. I would soak up the sun as the tide washed up against me, polishing me and making me smooth. I was as clear as glass, but as coarse as a cat's tongue. I lay on the shore staring at the sun when the oceans rose and took me away to be with the fish and the terrors of the deep. And I almost became a pearl, but the oysters didn't know my story and didn't want to. The story of how I had come from a mountain. And I would swim, up and down the currents, moving with the midnight blue depths of the ocean threatening to hide me from the light forever. But the sun remembered me and took me up to be close to the bosom of it's warming rays. And I was the cloud. I floated for an eternity that seemed to short as I kissed each ray of the sun as it came down from its celestial perch. I would greet it's radiant warmth with the embrace of a long lost friend reunited. And then I was the raindrop. I was racing faster than I ever had. Down, down, ever downwards. The world flew by me, curving along it's spiny horizon as Ispun. I was falling. Falling from unknown heights and crashing. Falling apart. Wet. But breathing new life and new possibilities into the world. And I was happy, because I kissed a mountain and told it my story.

Gwanz

This week, and indeed the last month have been absolutely crazy. I thibk I lost my mind and found it again more times than I care to admit. I had a very intersting freak out session earlier, and I decided to confide in one of my friends. He decided to call in the cavalry and brough in one more friend. The combination of the two (which is quite a stunning  combination if I do say so myself) saved me from all kind of embarrassing nonsense that I was going to do or say. Quite frankly I was freaking out like a 13 year old who started growing hair out of their armpits and didn't know how to deal with it. Okay, maybe it wasn't quite at that level of freaking out, but I was quite on edge. But thanks to them, I'm back in business. You can thank them both for what I'm about to give you. I showed this to them and they thanked me. I was confused becausd they realky did most of the work. See, for me, finding the inspiration is the hard part. The writing will come naturally given the right spark. Thank you for finding and giving me back the spark guys. I don't know where I'd be without my friends.

Sir

I have plenty of questions for you sir, please lie down over here. Right, you seem to be in good shape. But just to start off, I just want to know where your heart is. So where is it sir? Please don't make me look for it under these sheets of tears... Are those even yours sir?... Let me pick them up off of the floor and drop them in the dustbin labelled "wasted emotion". . . There, all clean. But still, no heart. Could it be under your tongue sir? That little wiggly piece of pompous flesh... It tends to cut like a knife when you don't mean it to, sir. Could very well poke someone's dignity out... How about that? Is it under there sir?. . . Oh, no! It's all sticky and smelly and thick with lies. I highly recommend this toothpaste called honesty, sir, it could really do you some good! Before we go on, sir, do you have a name that I can call you by? I hope you don't mind, but saying sir can get quite tiresome after a while... Oh my!!  That's a wonderful name!. . . Although. . . I can't make all those sounds without sounding completely ridiculous. So I may just have to stick with sir before I embarrass myself. . . But back to business sir. Can you feel your heart beating? Yes? That's always a good sign that you're living. You're not? What makes you say that sir? ... Oh, I see. It must be hard sir. I could never even imagine that. My condolences... No, sorry. I'm not... I was just... Sir... I was merely attempting to be polite. Forgive me, sir... I shall be extra careful this time... Yes, yes of course... Is it where it usually is?... About there, in the chest, between the lungs. But how can you-... ah, yes. You did mention. This has me stumped. Well. I think we should search for everything else that's missing... Let's start with your mind. Where is your mind, sir?... Oh, I assure you I excel at feeling the presence of intangible entities... Oh, no. I don't, unfortunately... It never crossed my mind as something-... ah, yes. Sorry, I forgot you can't find yours... I'm forever being insensitive. Sorry, sir... Is your mind in your brain sir? Somewhere in the folds of mushy gray matter? No? I can't seem to find it... Yes sir, I'm quite certain. No, you are not going mad *it's too late for that*... What? No! I'd never! Sir, I-... I understand sir. Take your time. . . . Very good sir. Will that be all sir? ... I know we didn't find anything, but that shouldn't stop you from going out and trying... Hard? Yes, yes of course sir... I could never even imagine-... They said what?... Insensitive...*gasp*... No... They did what?... Why?... *sigh*... I'm, I'm so sorry sir. I didn't know that-... Yes, but I've-... No... No... I don't, sir... I can't... I... I... I... *sob*... Never... Thank you, sir... But, sir? How did you manage to-... I see... I see... Shall we book an appointment for this time next week?... -schedule, yes... Very good, sir... Thank you for coming, again, sir.  You are always welcome here... Always . . . Welcome. . . Here. . ..

To The Milkyway Above

I've been quite the emotional wreck of late. It's not an odd feeling I just think that maybe I'm looking too far outwards for solutions. Maybe I need to look into myself and see where I'm at fault. It can't all not be my fault, I could be doing something wrong somewhere important which is messing up my mojo. Irrelevant of this, I have a very good friend who I use as my guinea pig for most of my poetry/writing/thoughts and I do put her under untold amounts of unnecessary stress because she's always having to deal with me talking about this thought and that feeling and so on. But she always, without fail, replies with meaningful, thought out comments on the situation and she's never afraid to ask questions. Even though I doubt she'd listen to my suggestion, I think she'd make a very good counsellor. So this entire thing is dedicated to her and all the help and support she's given me through the good times and the bad. A true true friend. Not quite a guardian angel but still watching, making sure I'm okay. Thank you. You've helped me get this far.

Shinigami

Lay me down to sleep. Please, lay me down. Hold me down. Down deeper than sleep wider than awake, tears fall from my face. I'm paralysed by what you are. A parasite in my mind, the tingles down my spine are all you and what you do. I only wanted to be loved but you gave me hatred instead, as soon as I tasted heaven your demons pulled me back down to earth where I could never be safe, not even in my wildest dreams. I can't tell them apart from my nightmares anymore. You're always there holding my wrist with your Edward Scissorhands grip waiting for me to slip so you can hold me tighter as you try and pull me up. It's always the same pain. Dull, and faint at first, but then it rushes out of me like a torrent and I have to stop and let all the pain out. And you will always wait patiently for me, almost obediently like a devil-sent guardian angel. Like a giant scarecrow towering over my field of sorrow scaring off all thoughts of happiness. But how can I not love you? You are as much part of me now as my own skin, dark and scarred as it is. There's a warm familiarity to you that draws me in like a moth to a flame. It's a love that I know is meant to be reserved for myself but somehow belongs to you, nursing you to health through my happiness. And I will always feel your return. Bold and strong. And you'll whisper to my heart and my head about the sweet emptiness that lies inside of me. It hurts every time you tell me. But I'll let you stay a while longer. Because I know if you leave, you will leave me strong or you'll leave me dead. And the truth is, I'm never sure one which I prefer.

The Fiery Mouth of My Struggling Soul

First post of the new year! Woo! Excitement! Yeah, so this year has already been a rollercoaster of everythings in my strange little world. I'm slowly starting to piece things together but there's always something that's holding me back I feel. And it's something so big that I can't really go around it. Alas, my life has never been ao simple from an emotional perspective and I can already see that this year is going to be a tough one. Shout out to all the people who still look out for me. Even implicitly. I can feel your thoughts and prayers from all sides and warmth that you send. It helps, trust me. I would not even be able to wake up every day if I couldn't feel any sort of love and appreciation from people. So to those who care, thank you. For those who dont, thank you as well. It's very confusing for me to say this, but I feel like not caring too. And it's not for fun either. I just... It's been a crazy first week and a bit. I promised some people something from, and I quote myself saying this, "the fiery mouth of my struggling soul". Sounds about right. The following piece is neither here nor there, in my mind. It's direct from the furnace and freshly hammered to a sharp point I had no control over it. Anyway. I hope your year is going better than mine.