i feel it
a cold tightening grip in my heart
i can barely breathe
my cheeks are burning
my lips shaking not to utter a word
i hear only an echo of my clenched teeth.
i want to hit a wall
or break a glass
probably hit my spinning head hard
such an urge to crash something!
am powerless
against this emotion
for i never see it coming
Oh anger!how do i shove you away?
your weight is killing my shoulders
pushing me on my knees
pinning my spirit down the drain
my strength is diminishing
what then shall i become
if this wretched emotions
overpowers me?

There’s a stage in a relationship when you know that it’s dying and it’s when you breathe out when they leave the room. You know you’ve stopped being the ideal they kissed on a mountaintop when they forget to ask how your day was or would you like a tea. When they no longer touch you with curiosity you will know for sure that the relationship is dying and that is when you start to die too. It happens slowly, like most irreparable erosion. First you don’t get out of bed for 3 days because you can’t imagine what it’s like to not live inside each other, then you travel the world arranging big dreams of a future together by whispering incantations into the wind about your magnificent love. You get back home with exotic adventures trailing behind you and set up a house in a favourite city. You buy a dog together and you can’t stop singing from roof tops. You go out to movies on Tuesdays and have Sunday breakfast in cramped trendy cafes together and become a regular couple at the local Thai hot spot at Saturday dinner time. Just when you think that your joy has reached it’s zenith, you create a whole lot of trophies from that love bond and give them a life-force and names. The thing is, those mini humans can’t imagine living without you either. It gets crowded in your heart chambers. Suddenly you start to compartmentalise your feelings for all these people that are suddenly tied to you because of that double-edged sword called love.

I look forward to nostalgia twice as much as forgetting.

Temple tunics
On antipodal brim
Enfolding in boughs
Lochs of lagoon
No broadcasts
To ruin ourn tune
Ourn tress to clout
No shame nor doubt
Endless labyrinth
North to south
Feeding doves by hand
Grains of tan
Whilst the bairn scowl
For mimes and Lambs
Broods of technology
Tearing down filth
Governmental collapse
Every man's self
In his house!!!

I’m letting go
To let you know
That I am unsure
What I am thankful for

Some have less
Some have more
Some live
Some die
And I struggle to decide
Why

There isn't that much ''new'' left. Poems, songs, paintings, sonnets etc. It's all the same idea. They're all about the one that got away or the hurricane of emotions left behind. Or maybe that childhood kiss that was sweeter than the strawberry jam mom would pack for lunch. Maybe it's about those days you'd run out in the storm in rainboots, waiting to feel those droplets on our face because there was nothing that a little rain couldn't wash away...right? Those tormented nights when the big bad wolf known as life, reminded you that not everyone thought you were a "superstar".
And in those moments, mom or dad, aunt or uncle would say "Life happens, honey". Those words never felt like comfort. They were more of a reminder that they had already experienced it and more was coming. Which brings me back to: there isn't that much new left. Although the canvas might be different or the medium could be thicker, there is still the same picture.

Everything has already been done before. Someone already felt it.