roezain - Hello Poetry

Dawn breaks open new revelations like geodes in my mind and they sparkle with amazement at this previously unearthed way of thinking deep seated in deep caves of thought processes unchanged over a lifetime I finally found the light and it’s funny that I was the one hiding it all this time back seat divers breathing second hand oxygen delirious from the fumes one can only assume

0

Sep 25, 2020

Sep 25, 2020 at 6:21 AM UTC

Underground, Underwater

Dawn breaks open new revelations like geodes in my mind and they sparkle with amazement at this previously unearthed way of thinking deep seated in deep caves of thought processes unchanged over a lifetime I finally found the light and it’s funny that I was the one hiding it all this time back seat divers breathing second hand oxygen delirious from the fumes one can only assume

10

There is a serpent in the sky between the clouds, he distorts and morphs into the whirlpools of my mind. He slithers in negative space and hisses at cloud shapes, he disappears into thunder and his tongue licks lightning strikes. There is a serpent in the sky and his beady eyes are black holes, the scales on his body are lights in my galaxy and I trace constellations with his scars. We dance together to a distant melody and he twirls me around the moons scattered on the dance floor. He wraps me up and hugs me tight until I can’t breathe anymore.

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Sep 24, 2020

Sep 24, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC

Between the Clouds

There is a serpent in the sky between the clouds, he distorts and morphs into the whirlpools of my mind. He slithers in negative space and hisses at cloud shapes, he disappears into thunder and his tongue licks lightning strikes. There is a serpent in the sky and his beady eyes are black holes, the scales on his body are lights in my galaxy and I trace constellations with his scars. We dance together to a distant melody and he twirls me around the moons scattered on the dance floor. He wraps me up and hugs me tight until I can’t breathe anymore.

4

again, the switch has flipped in my mind something blew a fuse and I'm left sitting in the dark wondering if the ceiling is still there to stare at and if it isn't the night sky will do fine. again, the switch has flipped and my thoughts present themselves differently slower, darker, like a river of tar and I let it take me because there's something calming about this river. again, the switch has flipped and deep in my mind I know rapids lie ahead a waterfall maybe beautiful from afar but deadly if you're in its midst again, the switch has flipped but I never try to flip it back I always liked the dark of night even though it scared the sh*t out of me.

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Apr 5, 2020

Apr 5, 2020 at 7:48 AM UTC

on/off

again, the switch has flipped in my mind something blew a fuse and I'm left sitting in the dark wondering if the ceiling is still there to stare at and if it isn't the night sky will do fine. again, the switch has flipped and my thoughts present themselves differently slower, darker, like a river of tar and I let it take me because there's something calming about this river. again, the switch has flipped and deep in my mind I know rapids lie ahead a waterfall maybe beautiful from afar but deadly if you're in its midst again, the switch has flipped but I never try to flip it back I always liked the dark of night even though it scared the sh*t out of me.

22

fear has kept me alive for this long. if I didn't feel fear, I might not feel anything. and it fades, subtly at first, almost unrecognisable, then in an instant, nothing. and I find myself asking a common question, at what point do you draw the line between being alive and just existing? is it when you wake up and dread the day ahead? is it when you wake up only to pretend you're not asleep? is it when you wake up and think maybe I really am dead? is it when you stand in the shower holding your breath wishing you were at the bottom of the deep end of a strangers pool? is it when you're not drowning, but not swimming either? just floating, not contributing, not living, just existing, just quietly, just with closed eyes. just here, just.

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Apr 5, 2020

Apr 5, 2020 at 6:51 AM UTC

fear... and then, nothing.

fear has kept me alive for this long. if I didn't feel fear, I might not feel anything. and it fades, subtly at first, almost unrecognisable, then in an instant, nothing. and I find myself asking a common question, at what point do you draw the line between being alive and just existing? is it when you wake up and dread the day ahead? is it when you wake up only to pretend you're not asleep? is it when you wake up and think maybe I really am dead? is it when you stand in the shower holding your breath wishing you were at the bottom of the deep end of a strangers pool? is it when you're not drowning, but not swimming either? just floating, not contributing, not living, just existing, just quietly, just with closed eyes. just here, just.

13

Anger wells inside me like a brewing storm. But I am not a violent person so I don't know what to do. The agitation makes me want to break things, but it'll be me who has to clean it up so I refrain. So I don't let it loose and now it is concentrated and pulsing through my body. I want to scream. But I sit, boiling over in silence.

0

Mar 3, 2020

Mar 3, 2020 at 12:30 AM UTC

Untitled

Anger wells inside me like a brewing storm. But I am not a violent person so I don't know what to do. The agitation makes me want to break things, but it'll be me who has to clean it up so I refrain. So I don't let it loose and now it is concentrated and pulsing through my body. I want to scream. But I sit, boiling over in silence.

6

Maybe I will never love them as much as they love me. Where did my love go? Did I use it up on the ocean, trees and inanimate things? Maybe I will never care for them as much as they care for me. Although I want to, my efforts will be futile. For I need to learn how to care at all, if only just for me. But if it always ends in heartbreak what's the ******* point?

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Mar 2, 2020

Mar 2, 2020 at 11:45 PM UTC

Untitled

Maybe I will never love them as much as they love me. Where did my love go? Did I use it up on the ocean, trees and inanimate things? Maybe I will never care for them as much as they care for me. Although I want to, my efforts will be futile. For I need to learn how to care at all, if only just for me. But if it always ends in heartbreak what's the ******* point?

7

Please remember, you are beauty. Moulded by the hands of the ones you love. Carved by the tools of those you despise. Sculpted by the ancients who inspire you. Glazed with joy and laughter. Fired by the flames of passion. And displayed for all to admire. Please remember, my dear, you are art of the purest form.

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Feb 19, 2020

Feb 19, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC

Please Remember

Please remember, you are beauty. Moulded by the hands of the ones you love. Carved by the tools of those you despise. Sculpted by the ancients who inspire you. Glazed with joy and laughter. Fired by the flames of passion. And displayed for all to admire. Please remember, my dear, you are art of the purest form.

8

When my eyes are open I can see this intricate, layered, sculpture in all its coloured and textured glory. I can see the colours of light, the shades of darkness. But sometimes vision is overwhelming. Sometimes I need to turn that sense off, to focus on the rest. When my eyes are closed I can feel more intensely, I can feel sounds as if they originate from the depths of my being. Bubbling up and oozing out of my perceived edges, dissolving them in the quest to be heard. If I listen long enough, eventually I become the sound, all sound, the wind, the insects, vehicles, children playing, the washing machine. It all comes out of the same silence that is at my very core. I can see further with my eyes closed.

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Feb 19, 2020

Feb 19, 2020 at 12:23 AM UTC

I can see further with my eyes closed

When my eyes are open I can see this intricate, layered, sculpture in all its coloured and textured glory. I can see the colours of light, the shades of darkness. But sometimes vision is overwhelming. Sometimes I need to turn that sense off, to focus on the rest. When my eyes are closed I can feel more intensely, I can feel sounds as if they originate from the depths of my being. Bubbling up and oozing out of my perceived edges, dissolving them in the quest to be heard. If I listen long enough, eventually I become the sound, all sound, the wind, the insects, vehicles, children playing, the washing machine. It all comes out of the same silence that is at my very core. I can see further with my eyes closed.

5