Oct 2019
Have I told you I’m lost, have I yet? I can’t say if its disappointment or sadness but around I see nothing I wanted for myself.
Haven’t I told you I’m lost, I’m so lost I can’t even find my fingers to erase tears I caught from walking the night, along with tares from moments clawing at me until I got to where I am. Scrap and lost…Where have I landed in the years I’ve gained, my footsteps seem to be erased, I can’t go back to my childhood.
“My thoughts have no origin. They are stolen
letters from days that always were an elusion to pass.
Yet when I read them, when I sit to read what
they exactly mean, they belong to a lost girl.
Such a sad beautiful creature, who knows nothing
Of painting herself a house to live in, such a lone
creature with an open door for silly notion’s
character to arrive. Those are my thoughts.”
I want my mother. Her, she can place me on her lap, cuddle me to her chest and I will belong. Haven’t I said I live in a circle? I live in a circle with no clear road to venture on. I’ve turned around, I’ve turned around! My head is spinning, I can’t feel my body. I am so lost…
“ I want to know how to speak to myself
in such a manner, its love letters from
past moments I failed to capture.
Be brave before a mirror, it fails
to converse back and show me my image.
Walk in colourless shoes I saw displayed
But failed to accept belonged to the dead.”
If I took myself away, far away to not feel anguish when I’m misunderstood; what sin will I have committed? I have searched every corner for one to hold my hand to his, I’ve not found him. And loneliness crushes my heart into pieces I ran away from in a fit of anger, so scattered pieces of my person are not with me, I’m only empty. I’m so vacant trying to teach my hand to hold my other hand.
“My thoughts are borrowed, from a journey
travelled by the wind, taken from anyone
who reared their nose for a longer intake.
They are belongings missing yet noticed,
By a blended home my mind has become.
I wish I knew which came from where…”
Have I not told you honestly, my father does not speak? He used to when I was in my mother’s belly, it explains how his voice is only a far away siren I have been following but could not find. I know his face, like I know mine. His comforts though are a foreigner I have not had the pleasure of meeting.
“I want to remember last night’s dream
not for recreation but put in an album
where all my purities are kept
So my children can know their mother,
when they arrived I was mum
Telling reality we are not friends
secluded me into a corpse on display.
I relate only to photographs, alive yet not.”
When will I begin to start anew, a beginning at the end, in the midst of nowhere with no one to sing me forward? I am lonely. My mind is a trigger, narrates such stories, they build such hopes only to tare them down just as shallowly. Perhaps being poor is my enemy…
“When I am sad, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what to do, hang myself!
When I am happy, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what to do, drown myself.
When I am anxious, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what do, surrender to myself.
When I am scared, my thoughts…”
I was not born a fighter, have I told you? Pick myself up when all around me is a bottomless colour. “A new day is all I need”, I’ve said countless times before, but ended up where my mind told me is home; with no past to speak of and no future to wonder of. In this state, I wish to know how to speak to myself.
Haven’t I told you I’m lost, I’m so lost I can’t even find my fingers to erase tears I caught from walking the night, along with tares from moments clawing at me until I got to where I am. Scrap and lost…Where have I landed in the years I’ve gained, my footsteps seem to be erased, I can’t go back to my childhood.
“My thoughts have no origin. They are stolen
letters from days that always were an elusion to pass.
Yet when I read them, when I sit to read what
they exactly mean, they belong to a lost girl.
Such a sad beautiful creature, who knows nothing
Of painting herself a house to live in, such a lone
creature with an open door for silly notion’s
character to arrive. Those are my thoughts.”
I want my mother. Her, she can place me on her lap, cuddle me to her chest and I will belong. Haven’t I said I live in a circle? I live in a circle with no clear road to venture on. I’ve turned around, I’ve turned around! My head is spinning, I can’t feel my body. I am so lost…
“ I want to know how to speak to myself
in such a manner, its love letters from
past moments I failed to capture.
Be brave before a mirror, it fails
to converse back and show me my image.
Walk in colourless shoes I saw displayed
But failed to accept belonged to the dead.”
If I took myself away, far away to not feel anguish when I’m misunderstood; what sin will I have committed? I have searched every corner for one to hold my hand to his, I’ve not found him. And loneliness crushes my heart into pieces I ran away from in a fit of anger, so scattered pieces of my person are not with me, I’m only empty. I’m so vacant trying to teach my hand to hold my other hand.
“My thoughts are borrowed, from a journey
travelled by the wind, taken from anyone
who reared their nose for a longer intake.
They are belongings missing yet noticed,
By a blended home my mind has become.
I wish I knew which came from where…”
Have I not told you honestly, my father does not speak? He used to when I was in my mother’s belly, it explains how his voice is only a far away siren I have been following but could not find. I know his face, like I know mine. His comforts though are a foreigner I have not had the pleasure of meeting.
“I want to remember last night’s dream
not for recreation but put in an album
where all my purities are kept
So my children can know their mother,
when they arrived I was mum
Telling reality we are not friends
secluded me into a corpse on display.
I relate only to photographs, alive yet not.”
When will I begin to start anew, a beginning at the end, in the midst of nowhere with no one to sing me forward? I am lonely. My mind is a trigger, narrates such stories, they build such hopes only to tare them down just as shallowly. Perhaps being poor is my enemy…
“When I am sad, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what to do, hang myself!
When I am happy, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what to do, drown myself.
When I am anxious, my thoughts turn to you.
You tell me what do, surrender to myself.
When I am scared, my thoughts…”
I was not born a fighter, have I told you? Pick myself up when all around me is a bottomless colour. “A new day is all I need”, I’ve said countless times before, but ended up where my mind told me is home; with no past to speak of and no future to wonder of. In this state, I wish to know how to speak to myself.
