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 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Pritika
A new introspection incited within this body of mine,
When he left early that one morning;
As I lay naked in the bed,
Wrapped within the white sheets
A gut-wrenching feeling irritated me.
Whenever I saw the bed sheet so tightly enveloping the bed,
It seemed as if the bed and the sheet were soul mates,
For they never separated from each other
This perennial intimacy was something I couldn't get,
Because what I did,
And what time made me do,
Was sit in the lap of a stranger every night,
And show him fallacious pleasure.
Every day, new people, new demands and new currencies
But that one morning was different,
As I got out of the bed,
I looked at the mirror,
The reflection of my **** body fascinated me,
Unlike most days, when I used to callously judge my body,
For the natural flaws that hid my smooth pale white skin,
That morning was different.
I kept staring my body for hours and hours,
It made me daydreamy,
It made me feel as if contentment finally knocked my doors,
I felt beautiful,
I felt strong,
And, and I felt perfect.
That one day,
I could see Aphrodite smiling,
Pandora breathing,
And Athena pondering,
It was my body
A harlot’s body,
There was no regret,
Just delight. Just delight.
Losing Focus.
It happens all the time
Knees deep in a conversation and i forget everything mentioned.
Stress suffocates.
Trying to impress and be confident is always shot down.
I try to be good.
Peer pressure and temptation sedate my morals.
Things I promise I won't do to myself are thrown out carelessly in a weak moment.
At times I can't stand myself.
I should know better but I still give in.
The emptiness that shadows me everyday is starting to feel welcoming.
Maybe it's easier than feeling pain of betrayal or guilt.
Maybe it's better than feeling second best.
I try to have faith, but I've lost my focus.
Slipping away..

I've lost myself.
It isn't sadness;
that is the biggest misconception.
People treat it like an emotion infecting a blue day,
labeling slightly soaked cheeks as this ailment of the mind.
The term is cracked like a whip in stinging insult:
weak, powerless, loser, outcast.

It is feeling a lack of feeling,
where one exists in a mental state of wanting to be anything but lethargic
yet finding nothing worthwhile inside
with which to take action:
no talent, no skill, no interest.

It is not only not believing one has any energy
but seeing nothing to which to give it,
in yourself, in others, in the world.

It is severe despondency and dejection,
consuming worlds like oozing, viscose magma
dribbling uncontrollably as burning ***** from the mountain's fiery mouth
burping filthily as is sludges onward.

It isn't sorrow, or misery, or despair.

It is inadequacy,
an ebb of interest in life,
with a sliver of interest to take it.
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
ln
Stranger
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
ln
And soon I'll forget the color of your eyes
and you'll forget mine.

Isn't it funny
How we become so attached to people
Only to detach months if not years later?

Isn't it funny
How the ones we let our guard down for,
Are the ones that make us build our walls higher then before?

Isn't it funny
How we fall in love
And either remain lovers



Or become

Permanent
*strangers.
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Nickols
Just give me a reason,
to get my heart beating.
As the world falls apart around us,
all we can do is hold on
and take my hand.

I'd risk everything for you,
reaching into the denial,
risking loosing my mind.

Just reach for my hand.

You might call me crazy,
but I'd stand on the edge,
till there's nothing left,
waiting for the end.

Say another word,
because I doubt I could hear you,
with the silence between us.

Just reach for my hand.

I'd do anything for you,
while asking "why are you such trouble?"
From our first kiss,
your eyes held wide...
(why were they open?)

Just give me a reason,
to get my heart beating.
As the world falls apart around us,
all we can do is hold on
and take my hand.

Just reach for me.
What I wish to be exists not.
To have
Years of sorrow and grief forgot,
But oh, oh no;
That suffering will long remain.
It will riddle my mind;
Labyrinthine confines --
All alone, always,
Unfathomably far from every shore,
From what I once adored.
This is emptiness:
This is the void of being.

I will wake up with that knot
Still In my stomach,
Lying awake for hours,
Hardly moving,
Immobile,
Still, so still,
Clenching for comfort and warmth and care,
But it simply won't be there,
And it very well may never return.
That flame of the few
That I once knew,
So pure and so true,
Has withered into an ember,
And it's so far away, this I know.

I would rather go ahead and die,
Some times,
I think,
Than live a life of mediocrity;
Of predictability.
Yet I'm also dying to find any source of light
In this abyss,
Or an escape.
But I can't find one.
I'm having so much trouble simply existing.
I was not cut out for this world,
I can tell you that for certain.
Oh, with such certainty.
I cannot handle the pain of everything around me,
Of proxy wars and vast slums.
Of paved forests and rigged economies.
It is far too much for me to ignore...
Far, far, far too much,
This is for certain.
With such certainty.
So is opting out the way to go?
It's getting to where I'd do anything
To not exist as I presently am,
And to not exist where I presently am:
In this desperate mind inside a dying world.

I just want to be okay with living.
But I absolutely mean this when I say it:
All of the pain in the world,
All of the inequality,
Stratification,
Corruption,
Tragedy,
Genocide,
I feel it. I feel all of it...
It pulls and drags me
Into some unknown depth,
Some infinite chasm,
Where no light has ever been,
Where no light will ever be,
And where I am not sure
If I will ever leave.
I've loved
I've lost
I've pined away for someone who didn't even know I existed
I've bled
I've cried and sobbed sorrowfully
I've moved on
I've contemplated on ending my life to end my suffering
I've triumphed
I've achieved
I've met my goals just at the deadline
I've crossed the line point of no return
I've loathed myself
I've been kind to a perfect stranger
I've given loads of my time and energy to a worthy cause
I've wondered
I've pondered
I've doubted
I've sat in silence
I've pursued what speaks to my soul

*I've lived
I refuse to be half of one whole
For I am enough always
To stay silent surrounded by seas
And as Ellan my will shall remain
Constant, contained and content
For it turns out that I need you not
And that I want you even less.
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