I find you in a room of a hundred walls where you can’t find yourself. You presume you too can find me, but I can’t feel it. I move my feet towards you and scream:
“I EXIST. YOU EXIST. I EXIST. YOU EXIST.” But you don’t seem to slightly hear me. Your eyes still pitch black, darker than the night but glittering and shimmering brighter than a million constellations. Does that indicate a near burnout? Or are you still in the process of combustion? Maybe you’ve exploded many light years ago but the aftermath is still demonstrating in your eyes fierier than ever.
“Insignificant.” You mumble.
“I exist, you exist.” I weep.
“I exist, you exist. But do exits exist?” you smirk, and I no longer want to exist.
Maybe if you throw me at the bottom of an ocean I’ll be deep again, or maybe if you throw me up so high I’ll finally fly. Poor can be lack of feelings, poor can be lack of expression, poor can be lack of understanding and poor can be me. Sadness can be sometimes blue, sadness can also paint you black even if your roots are golden.
It’s okay. You don’t need to always shine. It takes special people to see your blaze and it would be preferable if they’re blind. Not necessarily visually impaired, but devoid of light. Maybe they’ll tell you that you’re not as poor and can actually make them feel something. It’s scary when you carry nostalgia for a specific thing that you have no eye sight for. No eye sight except at the back of your mind.
The burning desire for something that is unknown is like searching for something invisible with the naked eye. I feel naked, naked and so full of everything.
I am driven by notion.
I’ll be merged with the darkness.
I’ll be surging with the waves.
You’ll feel me in the gentle breeze,
Smell me between the leaves after rainfall,
and you won’t be as petrified to take one step closer.
The days where emptiness meets me are becoming endless.
Endless is not precise on a scale of time, but what would have you done if you knew time was nonexistent? What would have you done if you knew nothing could stop you? Nothing would veer to crush you? I wonder. But wondering never got me anywhere, and that’s why I’m still here.
Asking the stars for guidance is forgetting about the sun, then cursing the sky for darkness as you deny daytime. If it makes it better for those who are victims of the same disease, don’t hesitate looking at the vast of space knowing we all sleep under the same ******* sky.
If we sleep at all.
Can’t put my feelings on paper, can’t phrase them in words.
Something doesn’t feel right.
Something’s giving my inner tissues an irritable itch.
It can be hollow emptiness, it could be stinging hurt.
Do I care? I don’t want to.
I can’t even write, I can’t even think.
What am I thinking about then?
Am I thinking about thinking? Or am I thinking about not thinking?
Or maybe I am thinking. Thinking about what? Err..
My heart is pounding for something, like it’s trying to reach for something.
Tell me what it is, and I swear I’ll try to help in reaching it.
Just don’t leave me hanging because I will suffocate.
Ever felt hatred towards everything but with the desire to hug the world in a tight squeeze? As if getting hold of things inside your arms will do you good.
It’ll probably ******* up even more baby.
I feel death. I want to have a beautiful death.
But before it, I want to dedicate a poem to each and every friend that has made me feel warm in a skin icy-cold.
Your presence is evergreen.
Your words are softer than milk.
And your hugs are a whole other world.
I want to be covered in paint.
Black space, blue ocean.
Blood red and grey skies.
I want to be buried with the same t-shirt I’ll never take off for the rest of my life.
I don’t want change, but I desperately need it.
You can’t mix conflict with contradiction and expect a beautiful thing.
One day, all this will end.
But only God knows when.
For now, I’ll only stain my wrists with wet ink and sit here as I sink.
you got a fast car
i want a ticket to anywhere
maybe we can make a deal
we can get somewhere
anyplace is better
starting from zero
got nothing to lose
maybe we'll make somethin
me myself i got nothin to prove
i've been wondering
when it stops
people say it stops
when you want it to
but how do i tell that
to my dreams
when all i can think about
is running up to kiss you
in the parking lot of anywhere
it makes me wanna drink
and say everything
like sometimes i think about
what it would've been like
if i had let you go
was still strong enough to do it
like i never knew hell
had such a pretty voice
like i tried to make it all day
"wish you were here"
like lately i've been going back
to all the places we've been
to see what it's like without you
it is the worst game
of hide & seek
every time i close my eyes
you just go home
i seem to only wear my seat belt
on days you call
on days you're all *never been better
and i just wanna tell you
how much I hate window shopping
and daylight goodbyes
you just sit there
when you could say anything
you could tell me
you noticed i started drinking again
you could even make it up
you could say you miss me, too
you could say
you missed me so much
that the other day
you accidentally bought
two coffees instead of one
you could tell me
how you've been
that you sleep so much better
without having to worry
you can say what you have
to just don't say leaving
was like shooting fish in a barrel
cause i swear i'm nostalgic
for things i pretended were real
and i swear
i don't want a seance
until there's something
worth bringing back
take me back
to all the places i tried to love you
back to a time
where i knew my name
without you having to say it
*you got a fast car
is it fast enough
so we can fly away
you gotta make a decision
or live & this way
excerpts from tracy chapman's fast car
Don’t you dare tell me you know the confusion of missing someone until you search for their features in every person you meet, or even worse, search for them in the crowds of passing strangers in the street and how you suddenly stand and stare if it’s them buying a certain food or riding shotgun in a car. It leaves you in shambles, stupefied as if you’ve lost your 5 senses to develop a 6th. You run around in circles as if that ‘6th’ is all you care about, that if you saw them in front of you the whole world would just stop its orbiting, and the only orbiting thing would be your feelings as you stand still unable to mutter a letter, flinch or make a single sound.
But eye contact scares you, doesn’t it? It gives your bones a colder shiver than that of the chilly winter, and you realize you can only spend time with them in your tired head.