fear has kept me alive for this long.
if I didn't feel fear, I might not feel anything.

and it fades, subtly at first, almost unrecognisable, then in an instant, nothing.
and I find myself asking a common question,

at what point do you draw the line between being alive and just existing?

is it when you wake up and dread the day ahead?
is it when you wake up only to pretend you're not asleep?
is it when you wake up and think maybe I really am dead?
is it when you stand in the shower holding your breath wishing you were at the bottom of the deep end of a strangers pool?
is it when you're not drowning, but not swimming either?
just floating, not contributing, not living, just existing, just quietly, just with closed eyes.
just here,

just.

When my eyes are open

I can see this intricate, layered, sculpture in all its coloured and textured glory. I can see the colours of light, the shades of darkness. But sometimes vision is overwhelming. Sometimes I need to turn that sense off, to focus on the rest.

When my eyes are closed

I can feel more intensely, I can feel sounds as if they originate from the depths of my being. Bubbling up and oozing out of my perceived edges, dissolving them in the quest to be heard. If I listen long enough, eventually I become the sound, all sound, the wind, the insects, vehicles, children playing, the washing machine. It all comes out of the same silence that is at my very core.

I can see further with my eyes closed.

The pulsating loneliness of reality in the flesh haunts me like the ghosts of my other selves.
Who am I in this moment and how will I choose to show it?
The constant motion of life paves the way to a grasping of something more.
Fleeting emptiness is always shattered by a falling leaf.
How can I sit here and not be effected by the push and pull of humanities breath?
How to be stoic when I am but a cloud of dust on the open plains?
The instant you choose to bare all in transparency, you find out there is nothing there.
Now to live with that as if everything were fine.
Walk the long road to your current location and be disappointed when its not what you expected it to be.
Hold us down with flesh and blood till it rots away and takes with it your sense of identity.
Embrace myself as the stagnating pool of emotions that I am, and ***** the symbols of sounds I hear in my head, into existence on a creased piece of paper.

Please remember, you are beauty.
Moulded by the hands of the ones you love.
Carved by the tools of those you despise.
Sculpted by the ancients who inspire you.
Glazed with joy and laughter.
Fired by the flames of passion.
And displayed for all to admire.
Please remember, my dear, you are art of the purest form.

Dawn breaks open new revelations like geodes in my mind
and they sparkle with amazement at this previously unearthed way of thinking
deep seated in deep caves of thought processes
unchanged over a lifetime
I finally found the light
and it’s funny that I was the one hiding it all this time
back seat divers
breathing second hand oxygen
delirious from the fumes
one can only assume

If you were me,
would I lie to you,
like I lie to me?

If you could see,
would I still pretend to be,
the me I thought,
I'd always be?

If you believed,
that we're all free,
would I hold back,
in uncertainty?