There is comfort in being right
There is structure in being wrong
There is mirth in being solicitous
There is deafness in being agent
There is fear in being passive
There is joy in being forgetful
There is peace in being truthful
There is freedom in being incomplete
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
There is a confusion there.
And perhaps that is a good thing.
Like a friend once told me
As we were sitting cross legged
During lunch break in school
In the 6th grade
Of a summer which you were glad to bear
Math comes with practice.
And that the many stupid things I did
Could still be polished
under the glow of my otherwise good grades
I have always felt stupid. And more than awkward
But I know I am not stupid. Even though I am awkward.
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
I am not sitting here
waiting for the right time and correct way
to be able to clean dishes
and clear the table
for you say so, " right away"
no ***** That's what I think of you
you are a racist little *****
no sense of respect
for me
and hence I have no case or reason to respect you
now or ever
never
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
you sir
I owe much to
I love you even
for all those times
you were here for me
and that you talked to me
a lonely broken broken hearted numb girl
and you made me feel special
and you made me feel valued
and you made me feel loved
and you made me feel respected
and you are an art an art form an artist
oh you are
yes you are
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 4:43 AM UTC
tonight i feel numb
I feel shocked slighted hurt downcast
by how small and ****** and lonely and ugly and evil
people can be
how deceptive and vulgarly so
they do things for the sake of appearances
when they know
and those who know them, know
that all of this is an act
that it means nothing
how smally they choose to sepd their life
and oh how lonely
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
It feels like someone
has pulled out my heart
ripped it out of my chest
with ruthless spite
and drained it in poison
so that it dies
It hurts.
And I hope it dries out in the sun
and beats and pumps with
pure clean vitality
once again
after I put it back
I hope and wait
and pray
for it to heal.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
I am confused
about life which was a wondeful dream
a romantic discovery, expedition, forest maze
with grand narratives fossil minds mysteries and power struggles
i wanted to find out the absurdities of the world , of people, of the human .mind
lest i seem to have stumbled , quite loudly , in a planned un awkward manner
that nothing is abstract ,only the stories you find you create
you decide to say
to yourself ,and the stories you watch out ,listen to.
and the wonder re returns
and that makes me happy.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 3:31 AM UTC
love is like a fungus
beautiful like an umbrella mushroom
and sticky like mould on bread
and nefarious mad like psilobycin
and scary like an aluminium cage .conditions apply.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
so you may not like me
but it's maybe cause you are afraid of that thing being in you
or you may just not like me.
(oh p.s. , by the way ,your superior attitude, or inferiority complex
waits to glint out
and break like crystal)
you may not like me
you may think i am disarrayed
or alien
or disgusting
i do not mind.
i like myself.
it's an unconditional love.
arrogance if you will.
i am with me honey.
so you can leave.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
I am lost in the loose ended threads which make my life;
they weld me down along glistening metal lanes
with screws and nuts and bolts once in a while ,
rather carelessly with a callow scraping grip,
perhaps it's a young apprentice
inexperienced in dealing with insubordination
to fix me in my place.
sometimes these threads look like faceless feelings,
pre-emptive if you will,
sometimes they look like ununderstandings by me or others
sometimes they look like despots called people
sometimes they look like elevators built around caves of people
shedding tears and hides.
So yes ,sometimes the metal feels like the deep cold of the sea.
powdered with nuts and bolts forgotten in the hazy blue saline,
but probing my shaky heart and my remoulding mind like frosty bullets.
Overrun with senseless weeds from inside,
and grim from ruins of lost ships
and here and there with inviting treasures
worthwhile, anew
in the cascades of worldliness of all things beautiful.
sometimes the metal feels like the lullaby of the sea
sedating almost,
amidst the wilderness of conflicts ,jarring bronze contradictions
and of course, the ever so ubiquitous, soupy shallow free floating worldly wise grime.
while other times oy romantics,
it feels like a fish net topping me from reaching out
to places and peoples and experiences of this world.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC