"Have you no eyes?" they asked
"Can you not see?"
"Have you no ears? Can you not listen?"
"Have you no hands? Can you not feel?"
"Have you no heart? Can you not love?"
"A heart?" I laugh
"I have no heart to see the people around me
I have no heart to listen to your incessant noise and careless excuses
I have no heart to feel the world and
I have no heart to love my life."
Your voice is like my favorite song.
I'm not quite sure how to explain it.
Soon as you speak my soul is instantly combustive.
A deep echo heard in the farthest region of my soul.
Standing there, roaming free.
Each peak skydiving into the ripple of my heart.
This edgy parapsychology that ceases to end.
Doused in gasoline, ignited, remade anew, soon as the door way to your mouth
This majestic feeling that you give.
I wish my headphones had a higher setting.
To take in more of you.
Each throb against my ear drum
Echoes In perfect excitement.
My heart pounds in anticipation.
A pool of gasoline touched by a spark of fire.
A bright blaze taken place inside the well of me until there is nothing left inside.
This is the effect you have on me.
Waiting to hear your voice climb the peak of where I stand
In the farthest region of my soul
my fingertips are numb
filled with feathers that ferry no feeling
i press, i prod, i reach out for more
i know my fingers are there
they're simply just numb
my ear drums are throbbing
silence smothers them in a suffocating stillness
i strain, i scream, i yearn for a sound
i know my ears are viable
they're simply just unsound
That hammering heart..
I could go on and on about it.
I could say how I knew
the meaning of the word
"alive" in that instant.
I could say that I've never
felt safer than when I was
nestled in your arms.
I could say that for once,
I knew I was not going to faint
by thinking of what that heart pumped.
I could say that your heart pumped
your purpose but now it has made
room for two and it pumps my purpose too.
And I could say that the sound of your
heart running laps in your chest
is still ricocheting in my ears
and it will reside there to remind me,
to give me a valid reason to stay
when I'm on edge and want to
Since I can remember I hear ringing in my ears
and no doctor can help me out.
I was trying to be cured, I was taking meds,
but in vain. My sister said
that it will pass, the ringing will ease
and go away. She said it's because
I'm growing up, hormons thing,
they mess up your body. But I'm thirty two
and it still rings, and seems not to stop.
I got used to it, though sometimes
when it's very quiet, I can hear it very loud,
it freaks me out, feels like skull is about to
Disease, not very serious, but incurable.
Since I can remember I've got that ringing
in my ears. Like an echo of wild howling
from a cold trains, to the last stop,
from where there's no come back home.
My walls have heard much.
- silence -
the intense focus of a curious young mind
seeking new worlds to escape to,
- laughter -
joyful peals and naughty cackles,
serenading the room with divine amusement,
- tears -
a thousand words left unsaid,
a thousand questions left unanswered, outraged,
- breath -
steady assurance of the blossoming flower
who faces much, but reveals little,
- typing -
furious fingers write like the wind,
expelling the madness before it slips away,
- music -
thrumming habitually from a Bose speaker
like the heart beat of her sanctuary,
- quiet -
the kind she only finds in safety,
ensconced in contentment like a warm blanket,
- peace -
pages turning, wicked glee,
steady breath, self discovery,
magic in the making,
food for thought, safety blanket,
total and utter
liquids take the shape of their container and I am 70% water,
I can only spread into the fishbowl my mind pours me into,
a free bird cannot exist without being let out of its cage and I was told to do everything except fly,
I am a home without walls and without any structure I begin to measure what is not there,
i measure the diameter of the space in my earlobes,
they speak for me when I am silenced by all that is louder than me,
they try to shout over the voices of teachers and coworkers and parents and all those that have as much faith in me as I do,
they tell the world that I can't fathom a future for myself where I would be valued enough to be expected to look respectable
I used to measure the space between my thighs,
that space spoke louder than I did on a stage,
a stomach growl felt more like an applause to me than what an audience would do after I pretended some words on a raised floor,
it was louder than my mothers voice,
when my thighs didn't touch nobody told me I was too much for them,
it was how the world heard me when the words that I needed to express started drifting away like the inches of flesh,
the inches that had taken my entire youth to collect on my bones and protect my skeleton from the cold
I am the spaces where my body used to be.
I am the negative space in the silhouette of who I once was.
and in losing myself I learned that when your own body feels like a foreign object,
it becomes pretty easy to destroy it.