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.
Friday, 21 October 2016
Sunday, 7 August 2016
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.
Friday, 22 July 2016
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.
Monday, 13 June 2016
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!
Tuesday, 12 January 2016
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.
Saturday, 21 November 2015
In The Meantime
Inbetween being here and there I struggle to be anywhere mentally. Having purpose is the main drive for some, working hard to get a car, to have a nice house, to be living a comfortable life. But I sometimes struggle to see the logic. Let me put it like this. You trade the skills that your body possesses (after education and work experience and all that) just to put food on the table? How can that be your purpose? That's a very roundabout way of getting to your end goal. But there are some who do it for more, and some who do it for less. Who am I to judge? I just have an opinion and I share it. But you see, with me the drive isn't about all the fancy things and the lavish lifestyle; I just want to find what makes me happy and hopefully I'll be able to do all of that and still be able to put food on the table. Sounds like a dream, right? I would not hesitate if the opportunity came my way. But all this talk of opportunity and privilege and money makes my tongue curl up because I know deep down that I probably won't care about all that extra stuff that people want. I don't know. It's like there's a kind of power that money has over us. It's become so subconscious that we blame it on other things and use words like "need" to justify our excessive consumerist tendencies. But alas, this is our reality and we do need some form of money to get us from day to day. I have yet to decide what I want to spend the rest of my life doing to placate my inner consumerist, and that is the scary part because between now and then, I have to seriously think about every step that I make and how it's related to the next step I'll take and so on. It's a challenging thing to just be thrust into the world and be pressured - if not expected - to flourish. And many people have the mindset for it. I am afraid I may have to mull a bit linger over that one and see how I fare later on. In the meantime, I'll just write about my feelings because that's all I have for now.