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Just like so far lost
let in from the outside
remain the outsider
pushed back and forth,
then out
           - again.

Fractal force[d] deeper inside this time,
bone endures and strengthens solitude structurally.
Somewhere within the sponge bone
light emits through its holes in a dark orange hue.
Proof of occupancy? Not likely.
The sign of a visitor - a miner.
An altar carved into the wall, surrounded by shadow and dim orange light, calling out to saddening self-hatred and naked personality displacement.

So cunning, so precise - a rapid cycling of self-doubt, confusion, and contempt. It's there to push me when I know better. It wakes me up when I need sleep. It breaks my will when I need hope.
The silent guide that drags me weeping...
an ancient force that makes me bleed.

Welcomed warmly and befriended willingly.
Bitter now, broken heart, reality clipped winged innocence.
Gather up the feathers and continue forward please.
No time to process this mess yet.

Now over emaciated files kept locked away.
Like a second hand gold claim - gold now gone.

Still...
I dig and dig and dig, more...
****** hands and throat sore
Crying deep with sounds like banshees
blood and tears combine in thick and dusty pillows of pain
cemented by the paste these two create.
What I've buried is so elusive, self-destructing, and sad.

Whats left is not worth the trouble: I was aware when I buried it.

But still...

I visit past traumas like old friends.
When I am especially dark, I unearth the remains and dust them gently, wrap in red cloth, and spend time in search of a lesson learned.
I've been told this is part of my gift to share but I hide it like sickness; I bump into everything I need and quickly scurry away.

Can I honor the past and  let it lay?
The pain I covet only serves to perpetuate old stories and the isolation only softens my brain to social interaction.  

The enemy I've chosen is always present but never within my reach.
Should have just let it go
It's thirteen below outside
Fingers are cramping, they're afraid of this temperature
My nose and ears soon follow my finger's fright
*** on a cold passenger seat
I can feel my spine begin to settle in to frozen comfort
Maybe if I had a cigarette, I could light the end
Stick the burning leaves to my ice cold hand
Thinking to myself
Maybe this is what love feels like
No rain slash torrents. Not a drizzle.
His eyes, some crows and lies.
That girl who can loudly whistle,
can quietly say her goodbyes.
There was a man on the bus
today
with hostile eyes...
steely blue and suspicious.

The thirty something woman
across from me;
with black eye and split lip,
her's were wet with tears and fear.

A young couple
only had eyes for each other.
Glistening
with love and desire.

The bigot’s eyes
were all a glower;
hostile and condemning...
The couple was interracial.

The old woman’s eyes
tired with many years,
looked back with memories
and forward to release.

The little child’s eyes
wide with wonder
took everything in,
grist for the mill.

As I wander from
face to face,
I wonder what stories
my eyes offer?
Into the virtual world
I get ******
Staring into the pseudo-reality
Liking stuff,
Commenting words
Whether it makes sense to others?
I often wonder

Into the virtual world
I get drawn
The bunds of rationality
Do not seem to hold on
Staring at happy faces
Thinking on updates
Do I seem to remember?
What around me is at stake?
Calling for immediate attention?

Into the virtual world
I often loose
Some vital perspective
Floating into thoughtful nothingness
Until I stumble
On the platform of hard earth
And when I rub my eyes
I see the dire need to resolve
What is real and unreal!
In my empty room


Someone tried to get my attention






                                                                               *Pssssss
Heard that noise....
 Jan 2013 Aditya Bhaskara
Samuel
It's a silly thought but
    am I being tested? compared as
                  one of two?

I hope not.
pain
is
an
unusual
gift –
it
helps
appreciate
pleasure
better -
i
hope
for
healing

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
   03.01.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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