I stitched but it's still visible
I came knocking but
it seems I'm invisible
I'm too tired to pick up the shards
In a lonely night where
I hug my knees
weeping on my pillow,
covered with sheet
feeling the pain
What should I do,
my soul is wreck
Nocturnal thoughts hooting
like an owl in the wilds
I'm surrounded by darkness
and all I feel is sadness
This is what I call madness
because I'm just...
I'm just so helpless.*

-A

10/11/14

Of all the misery and happiness that I have gone through my life,
it seems that the time is the only aspect that still fetters me to this life...
even a light cannot escape the time and it travels through the time...
If I **** the time which holds the life and universe together,
I would transcend this life..
It would illuminate my life and pave me the way to that constant experiential state of divine...

It is hard to accept that pain is an inevitable part of the life and that is pain...

I don't know what it is,
and that is precisely the reason why I am living...

Initially it was dark,
I don't remember what has happened before,
Perhaps I am not supposed to,
I perceived the rays of light through her dark skin,
I evinced it by closing my eyes,
I freed my legs and it hit her,she laughed at it,
I  stole her breath,she didn't complain,
I drank the food she had,she relished it,
I didn't know that she took all the nutrition on the planet to nurture me,
I peed in her,she didn't care a hoot,
I experienced what she experienced,
She became a conduit of my experience,
Then I became the basis of her experience,
I had partaken the moments with her
Without knowing what she means to me,
For the first time I drew my breathe on the planet,I was beside her...crying
crying, because of the ecstasy for having seen my source on the planet,
For all the things I have done to her,she really loves me like she had never before...
She is the mother who is the secondary source of my existence on my planet,
I am in the eternal debt to her,
If I am in eternal debt to her,
Then I realized that how I should be to the source of my mother and the creation of existence,
I cannot owe anything to her,I can only bow to her...
she is the mother of all the creatures on the planet,
So I walk gracefully on the planet,loving every entity on the planet,
Because they are the creation of my mother.....
If I really love and respect my mother for what she is,
I should love and respect every creature on the planet for what they are,

Love everyone because that is our quality.....

My anger rustles tree branches like fallen leaves,  
and I believe the wind can find a way to blow it all away,
like a tornado,  
spinning my emotions out of control,  
wherever they go,  
they'll move mountains and make streams,  
I believe the water will boil over with doubt and rage,  
crashing over the shores in waves,  and for days I believe in the truth of the storm,  
begging the skies for more,  
a single thundercloud with drops of jealousy so pure,
and thunder made from screams of outrage and misery,  
bolts of dreams,
crooked and lost at the seams,  
I believe in the calm,  
in the eye of the storm,  
that moment of happiness you'll never remember anymore,
and hail falls in a perfect form,
frozen and hard like my heart when the skies are clear,
I fear the clouds will disappear,  
along with everything I feel,
and when the sun shines,  
I can no longer heal,
the earthquake of despair rumbles though the ground,  
and the dirt moves like a whirlwind of truth,
light of fear starts shining through,  
frightening the leaves as they crumble to the earth,
they disperse in a tsunami of fury,
telling the story of the barren tree branches that were once my soul,
stealing the emotions and madness that had once made me whole

Should I be concerned about the state I'm in?
I'm not sure how bad it is,
honestly
I can't tell because
what used to be bad days are good days now
and I guess that's what people mean when they say
you'll learn how to live with it.
I think you just become one with your demons
and soon you're saying things you never thought you would
like maybe happiness isn't all everyone says it is,
maybe weakness is a kind of strength,
maybe I just won't get better and that'll be okay because
recovery
is a marathon, not a sprint
but some days I can't even bring myself to get out of bed
so that trek seems impossible.
I am getting used to the emptiness;
I hardly think about it now,
and by that I mean I always think about it so
it doesn't seem like a big deal anymore
and these days crying is a nonevent,
my eyes are bloodshot more often than they are clear,
and my friends have stopped asking how I'm doing.
I guess I seem pretty stable and
I guess that's accurate,
I'm pretty regularly in a state of numbness
manifesting itself in
tequila and
the word okay and
art that people choose not to see the underlying meaning in.
I have written a suicide note every day for the past six months
but I call it poetry
and that somehow makes it okay to say these things-
by putting my turmoil into stanzas
it becomes a metaphor rather than a cry for help and
nobody will take this one seriously, either,
nobody seems to be concerned about the state I'm in.
I am learning to live with it.