a today

these are the days – unfiltered mouthfuls of air, an unremitting force in and through your system. water breathes through you, bearing a resistance similar to a blunt knife slicing into an ice block of defrosting butter. today, the air we gasped upon each inhalation was an age old carousel of stale recycled waste. still, I got up and went on with the business of – living.

reminding myself of the lives built on love and sacrifice, unceasing suffering and a singular lotus, abloom in the gunk of brown mud. towards sleep, I watched as your eyes grew themselves deeper into the trudge of an elongated well. held back the coins i had wanted to toss into the maker of untold dreams and fervent prayers. listened, as the pitch of your voice sloped into a parched damp of burdened worries. there has been such struggle in my daily doings, simple gifts such as listening, speaking, eating, moving is tied to an invisible thread, threatening to snap at the softest jolt, a gentle tap.

then, i spoke to myself in the dark. it is not in spite of suffering, that we grow. it is because of it, through it, and with it. warmed this illusion, in the heart of my palm as the adulterated faith within me, drifted.

dark light

swim thoughts: now able to reflect upon my initial distraught at having witnessed a beagle left alone in the dark. feel like my thoughtfulness was marred by an inability to view both stories. the compassion i held for this animal, was in a slight way erased by the heat of fluster I felt towards the person/s who saw this through. frustration, unknowingly accumulated grew into a dark tunnel; veiling my sight.

cruelty on occasion, arrives in various forms

morning bed

i rose to the morning with little concern for the earth. still it spun, water continued to leak. there were even birds, perched on a twig-thin tree. were they singing ? my palms cupped my ears, there was nothing i wanted to hear. all i longed for was to remain hidden under a fort of fabric. sinking deeper into it’s appetite for my despair. for minutes i shifted my limbs around; in this crumpled state of turmoil, brewing and glowing in it’s filth.

then, i heaved my body off and flagged my sheets into a sounding poof! flopping into a puddle of folds and creases; i tucked away the corners of it’s floral pattern – as if demanding a part of me to remain unseen; till bedtime.

wind

the wind recalls – her

direction dives into a

sharp slice – linear and

absent of any slipped pause.

there is no apprehension,

or second thought given to

the validity of her action.

a vivid clarity, lifted in

an uphold of pride and

purpose – residing in the

swift movement of her

steadied hand.

 

red concentrate

the light – bright red

and glowing in spheres.

a repetition of circulating

gradient; illuminates the

center of this room- dank

with the wretched spirits

of they who embody the

persistent clenching of

swelled tongues and tight

lips – sore and sworn to

secrecy. time, begets an

opportunity ripe enough

to taper; this disdained

haunting, of us -we

consumed by guilt – a

concentrated stinging

sour – rolling over

and under our tongue.

 

 

 

 

halo / tint

vision; discolored –

an intermingling of minimal

hues strewn into a spiral

of psychedelic confusion. an

opaque vibrancy; radiates –

shedding acute light upon

what had once remained an

unpronounceable form. it’s

identity – unknown, a distant

halo of uncertainty;

doused in purity –

glistening in tints of light

 

doorway

here it is – the suppressed hurling,

pounding sadness; from the soft

parts of my body – shallow nooks,

entrenched openings – out of myself.

at the curve of a stranger’s doorway –

sloping spines, bent into the corner

of a tidy hallway; a common coridoor

occupied by passing shadows, an

occasional ghost – fleeting and

wandering; their visibility shy from

the bright light; encapsulating little

of their detail, instead absorbing

their bodily geometry –

transparent; fluid like

streaming rapids.

 

opals

a relentless longing

for all that is unmoving

and silenced – heart,

still churning, forsaken

opals of curious wonder –

immerse my spirit, with

heartened comfort that,

this too, will – one day

cease to exist.

 

11.13

an internal plea for forgiveness, was murmured – but it never left my head. as my pupils strain themselves; reading words of my own, written to another. forgive me, i want to say. for the times i grew brittle and cold. yet, in turn rotated the blame and inflicted it unto you. you were a mirror, who held up a reflection for a person i did not want to meet in the eye. for the nights, i spoke with brutal honesty, without any consideration for your threshold for holding hurt. for the words, i threw across the room in a thoughtless rage. there were too many times, my speech churned themselves into a spell of misconstrued intentions; this was what i should have considered apologising for.

my empathy escapes me, and once again; i am consumed by the wrath of pride.