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15.8k · Nov 2012
I believe
samasati Nov 2012
I believe in smiling at strangers. I believe in saying hello. I believe in shyness. I believe in fear of rejection. I believe in the need of affection. I believe in the need of reminders. I believe in candles, especially those that smell of vanilla or christmas. I believe in wearing small crystals around my neck. I believe in energetic vibrations. I believe in colours - I think each person has their own colour. I believe every feeling is valid. I believe in chapstick and I believe in mascara that doesn’t clump. I believe in nail polish - every colour of nail polish. I believe that the only reason we lie is because we fear something. I believe in poetry. I believe in bluntness. I believe in the intention behind words, but I don’t necessarily believe in words. I believe in travel. I believe in travelling solo. In fact, I believe in travelling so much that it is pretty much all I want to do. I believe in music. Boy, do I believe in music. I believe any kind of musical composition can change a person. I believe music can cure depression. I also believe music can feed depression. I believe a melody can say more than lyrics and I believe that lyrics can be what someone couldn’t put together themselves to explain exactly how they are feeling. I believe anyone can create a song, even though they believe they cannot. I believe a single note can sound like the most beautiful sound in the world. I believe if someone records a song when they’re in an ugly mood, the ugliness emits to its listeners and can drain them. I believe in art. Of course I do. I believe in acrylic paint. I believe in oil paint and watercolours, but not as much as I believe in acrylic. I believe in fingerprinting. I even believe in painting with your toes. And I believe in dancing; even if it looks weird. I believe in flailing your arms even, as long as it feels good and right. I believe in dancing ‘til you sweat, though I don’t like that icky feeling too much. I believe that a babe can be a very ugly person and a physically unattractive person can be a very beautiful person. I believe that people who smile are beautiful. I believe that people who frown are beautiful too, just in a different way. I believe that there are sincere smiles and there are manipulative smiles. I believe that some people just know how to use their eyes well. I believe in eye contact. I believe in engaging. I believe in listening and dropping everything else that is going on in your mind just to listen to what a person is trying to share with you. I believe in sharing - sharing cookies and sharing love. I believe in the frosty cold. I believe that it doesn’t have to feel as cold as it really is. I believe that people complain a lot. I believe that people often have too much pride to be happy. I believe that we should embrace our discomforts and shames, that we should welcome them wholeheartedly so that we can be happy. I believe in honesty. I believe in empathy. I believe in tea. I believe in jelly donuts but only on certain occasions. I believe in quirky bow ties. I believe in knit toques and mittens and scarves. I believe in dresses. I believe in flirting. I believe in coffee in the morning. I believe in big comfy beds. I believe in walking around your empty house in your underwear or birthday suit, singing loudly. I believe in singing in the shower. I believe in singing on the street. I believe in stage fright. I believe in meditation, though I don’t really strictly set times to do it anymore. I believe mundane activities can be done in a meditative state of mind. I believe in clarity. I believe in not judging people because everyone is human. I believe every human has something very interesting about them. I believe in boring people too. I believe in christmas music - not the radio kind, the choral kind. I believe in cheap sweet wine. I believe in Billy Joel and I believe in The Beatles. I believe in Regina and Sufjan too. I believe that the ukulele is a very overrated instrument. I believe in having healthy hair. I believe in moisturizer. I believe in getting to pick a coloured toothbrush at the dentist. I believe in thick wool socks. I believe in baggy sweaters. I believe in yoga gear but I do not believe in sweatpants. I believe that yoga is one of the healthiest things for a person - ever. I believe in buying a friend drinks or dinner once in awhile. I believe in collecting shoes and scarves and rings. I believe in chords but I don’t really believe in jeans. I believe in hot chocolate with whip cream but not with marshmallows. I believe in dorky Christmas sweaters. I believe in baking cookies instead of cake. I believe in eating disorders - I do not support them, but I do believe they are much more severe and various than most people think and I believe there should be better/proper help for those who suffer instead of the usual cruel inpatient/outpatient care. I believe in trichotillomania and I believe in dermatillomania and the severity and impact it can have on its sufferers. I believe in gardens. I believe in every single flower. I believe that everyone is always doing their best. I believe that most people love to struggle. I believe in hope. I believe in having faith in yourself. I believe in iPod playlists. I believe in gym memberships in the winter, not the summer unless it’s to swim. I believe in matching underwear every day. I believe in Value Village. I believe in singing in bus shelters when you’re waiting for the bus. I believe in dressing up according to holidays. I believe in Grey’s Anatomy and I believe in Community. I believe in skirts and dresses that twirl like the ‘ol days. I believe in longboards more than skateboards. I believe in plaid like most young people do. I believe in bows in my hair, but not as much as I used to. I believe in foot massages and hand massages. I believe in reflexology and reiki and essential oils and chakras and crystals and holistic nutrition. I believe in anxiety; even crippling anxiety. I believe in awkward romances. I do not believe in flip flops. I do not believe in Beatles covers unless they are really insanely good; then my mind is blown. I believe in having long enough nails to scratch someone’s back appropriately. I also believe in biting nails. I do not believe in telephone calls unless I am extremely comfortable with the person. I believe in blogs. I believe in journals. I believe in naming special inanimate objects like journals, instruments, technology and furniture. I believe in the idea of cats more than I believe in cats. I believe in sharpies or thin pointed permanent markers. I believe in temporary tattoos. I believe in streaming movies online. I believe in royal gala apples. I believe in avocados. I believe in rice cakes. I believe in popcorn. I believe in airports but I hate the LA airport. I believe in openly talking about *** but I don’t believe in making it seem shameful and gross. I believe there should be no shame regarding sexuality. I believe in reading some great books more than once. I believe in laying on the couch under cozy blankets, watching a great suspenseful tv show or movie. I only believe in having a couple bites of cheesecake. I don’t really believe in lulu lemon. I don’t believe many people can pull off the colour yellow. I believe in buttons over zippers even though zippers are easier, they just look kind of dumb and cheap. I believe in the sun and the moon equally. I believe in closets over dressers. I believe in staring out the window for a good hour or so.
15.8k · Oct 2013
thank the universe for:
samasati Oct 2013
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful *******, backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, *******, iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer *****, good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
I wrote this with my momma one fine morning!
there is always so much more to add.
8.3k · Jan 2014
cactus
samasati Jan 2014
my lips purse to meet you
you are like champagne
unopened
are you sweet or are you bitter
are you spoiled
are you a winner

take a beat from my heart,
it accelerates and strengthens
if you pluck an eyelash from me
I’ll remember how to cry again
— and just in case you’re wondering,
I’m still inclined to hold my own hand

guess what
I bought this cactus
‘cos I don’t have to care much for it
we both know
I can’t admit I can’t commit
to letting something bloom
but I’m hoping you won’t notice
see my green thumb,
I am caring!
but see the cactus…
I am lying…
7.2k · Sep 2012
underwater
samasati Sep 2012
why is it so hard to see you?
i crumble and i croak
hopeful words dance at the back of my throat
now i’m hopeless
now i’m in a mess
of you or her or him or me
it’s like moving to a new country
and getting the hang of their weird plastic currency
and why the **** is talking to you so hard?
i tumble and i frizzle
a glass smashed into shards
aggravation takes me over because
anxiety takes me over because
suppression takes me over because
i want ******* control over ******* everything
i want to ******* know what i’m ******* doing
what i’m ******* thinking
i tremble and i palpitate
the thirst never sedates
like a lion ******* blood or a needle weaving thread
so much to go around
too much to go around
i’m not sure how to go about
underwater is where i wish i was
underwater, everything is muted
everything is calmer and resentments are diluted
i long to feel less polluted
i long to feel less consumed by
that and this and all the ******* frolicking ****
it pulls and tears and rips in shears
still standing there
i am still standing there
why the **** am i still standing there
here
like a fish suffocating in air
like a statue stands with a smile it can’t wipe off
i sweat under smiles
i want to wipe it off
i want to turn it off
why won’t i just ******* take it off?
why is it so hard to know who you are?
seeing a glimpse of a break down is making me stick around for you
do you still want me to stick around for you?
i crush and i tamper
with anything i can get my hands all over
it really doesn’t matter
what or who or how hard i hit
cause nothing is good enough for this ******* *****
5.3k · Sep 2012
girls
samasati Sep 2012
we always want to re-invent ourselves when we feel
rejected, unwanted, left to the side.
we dye our hair or cut our hair or style our hair
so differently, so drastically, so unrecognizable.
we pack on make-up or strip our make-up
or pierce our faces, belly buttons, get tattoos, choose a permanent mark
to remind us of something solid;
something that represents
self-sufficiency or this too shall pass,
because we know we are gonna feel
rejected, unwanted, left to the side again
(and again, and again).
we buy new clothes, give away old ones to our friends,
new shoes, new bags, new look.
and we’re always picking up new vices, new habits, new addictions.
cigarettes, alcohol, razors,
all the late night reckless binges on wine, narcotics, food, cutting ourselves.
sometimes we pick up healthy ones too,
like running, swimming, dancing, yoga, meditating, resetting sleep patterns, taking vitamins, treating ourselves to the spa, eating regularly, getting out of the house to see friends.
we either avoid intimacy at all costs because we can’t fathom
the concept of trust anymore
or we dive into it with practically anyone, just to feel something real
because we are so ******* lonely,
but we never really feel anything real at all.
we make resolutions, goals, plans for our next relationships
so that they won’t follow the same patterns as our last crumbling ones
(they usually still do).
some of us change what we like, what we want, what we need
to impress people so that they
fall in love with us and will never leave us.
we begin disregarding ourselves for another person,
or disregarding everyone else for ourselves,
both because we don’t want to get hurt again.

and then somewhere, somehow after weeks, months, maybe even years of
the full fledged wavering of
destruction meeting recovering meeting ignorance meeting shyness meeting loneliness meeting accepting meeting fear,
we start to see the intricacies of the pattern much clearer -
we make all of these sudden changes because
we just want to feel better,
we just want to be better;
that’s all.
it’s taking charge, which is healthy.
it’s also making fact and point that we need to change to deserve love,
which is unhealthy.
all of it is like learning algebra for the first time,
some of us take a bit longer to understand it all; the formulas, the variables, the balance.
and once we understand the formula, the variables and the balance,
then we can welcome back the beautiful,
real version
of ourselves we’ve been trying to
cover up.
4.3k · Jun 2013
innocent flowers
samasati Jun 2013
a lot of people I know
are never really happy
even when they’re happy, they’re really just sad

a lot of people I know
settle for just about anything
they’ll settle for emotional abuse and then settle for a deep addiction to feel better about the emotional abuse they’re letting themselves prostrate to
as long as it can still make “living” seem feasible,
they’ll settle
because nobody taught them how to ask for what they want,
so all this time they never ******* knew they were granted permission to feel worthy of getting what they want
because this world likes to think that nobody is entitled to feel worthy or to give into clarity

a lot of people I know
get off on damaging themselves
because blood and burns and bones and ***** and *** and pills and puke
are such disgusting in-your-face secrets
and this world knows it’s not acceptable to just blatantly write
“I hate myself” on your forehead with permanent marker for everyone else to see
yes, this stupid, guileful world we live in decided to trick everyone into believing that secrecy and suppression are what make a person
interesting and loveable

a lot of people I know
have this wicked demon inside of them
and they like to imagine it looks like a fiery nightmare,
red like terror
with a devilish face; poisonous eyes and a heartless grin;
a face that says “I own you”
just so that they can reinforce their ideas of worthlessness
and the self-pity of not having true control over themselves
when really, they can always have true control whenever they want

what *a lot of people I know
don’t know is that
that wicked demon thing inside of them
is really just a flower wilting, starving, dying,
waiting, hoping, longing to be watered
and wondering what the **** they did
to be tortured like this
3.9k · Oct 2012
organic
samasati Oct 2012
there is nothing quite like
the first bite of a carrot
grown in your own backyard
or the second bite…
or the third…
the first bite is the ecstasy one would find
in wholesomeness
a shock, really
of sweet paradise
from winter wind upon your cheeks in solitude
from petting a wild rabbit with its permission
an unusual high
a remarkable instant
the second bite is deeper
it is more familiar and significant
like the hug you’d give your lover at the airport
like baking cookies with your little cousins on Christmas Eve
when your own spirit is crowned
king or queen
but with an equality like the trees in the forest
rather than a superiority like the ***** in the castle
the third, fourth, fifth
(depending on how big your carrot is)
are mere appreciation and wonder  
of life
of your life
cherishing salubrity, company, solace
and it seems when you’re done,
you’re not hungry anymore
and if you are,
all you want is another carrot.
3.7k · Sep 2012
atom
samasati Sep 2012
it's as if the air is thinner and fresher and my lungs pull it in
to roll around in and soak up its potent clarity

exhales sure remind me of letting go of heavy quilts
my frozen goosebumped mind longs to hide under

there is nothing to hide from, not even black holes - for
there is beauty within the unknown

a fear of blossomed beauty is a fear of losing that pinnacle of
infinitely heightened completeness

One falls for this belief when shyness to greatness is solidified -
belief they know depths and levels and proofs

knowing is knowing, yes, unknown is everything

If I knew where we were going,
I'd drive or would tell you to drive

not knowing encompasses everywhere and I'd sooner rather
look into your green eyes and drift into a black hole of unknown beauty
- where we could breathe in thinner and fresher air and
reach the peak of One with just two
3.7k · Aug 2012
I have a thing for
samasati Aug 2012
sail boats
and oceans

and really anything that floats and carries a person

far away
in a big body of water

I don’t think I have to say why

it’s obvious

I’m sure everyone has a thing for sail boats
and oceans

I like busses too
I seem to get really impatient on them, and I like that a lot
because I know I can’t do anything about it

it’s a game of
Will I Go Crazy Or Will I Have A Snooze?

I like being stuck between being stuck and being unstuck

one day I want to sit on a bus for 24 hours and see what happens
(I will be doing a lot of that in the month of October)

I’ll bring books, my iPod and movies to watch on my laptop
but I’ll probably just stare out the window hours on end
tall buildings will turn into blurry trees and blurry trees
will turn into pixilated neon canola crops
and there’ll be cows and ponies and one long road

to Montreal
then Toronto

then who the **** knows where because I am already dreading
going home after the trip
even though I haven’t left for the trip yet

it’s months to come

I have a thing for finding a new home
everywhere I go

but I never find one

I like the process of looking for a really long time
then giving up from discouragement and sad feelings of
abandonment stemmed from my childhood daddy issues

I’m pretty sure everyone has daddy-abandonment issues

I have a thing for assuming every one has the same problems
that I do

but it turns out that there are loads of girls that like to eat
lots
and don’t feel ashamed of the extra scoop of
double fudge ice cream

and there are teenagers that get along with their fathers
and look up to them
they go out for lunches and joke about dates and fix cars
and tell their little girls they’ll always be their little girls
and go on awkward shopping sprees and barbecue

but everyone has a thing for sail boats and water
we all want to escape

our eating disorder and drinking problem
a skinny body or a bulky body
bad grades and perfectionism
the people pleasing pushovers
fathers and mothers and old european traditions
family dinners that go perfectly and are so boring because of it

the fragility of feeling unique
the arrogance of feeling unique
the lack of faith in ourselves

being alone
3.6k · Feb 2014
pocahontas & mulan
samasati Feb 2014
Grandmother Willow said
listen to your heart, you will understand
but when it pounds all I want to do is run

my heart says so many things
one minute it's telling me to climb a tree as high as the branches let me
the next it says hook line and sinker
and when I'm with someone beautiful, it says
nothing, it just
flutters and pitter patters

Mulan was always my favourite because
she had her heart broken and still
She Saved China
all on her own

my heart breaks like twigs and crumbles like dry
stiff leaves
in Autumn
and my heart is also a rubber ball that bounces from
one place to the next
too rapidly,
I forget where I am
and where I just was a moment before I ended up
wherever I ended up

my heart is like ice and sometimes if you are the right temperature,
it will melt for you
my heart is aware of fallacy and sometimes if you try to coax it,
everything I ever felt for you
won't exist anymore

a few months ago I was sitting at the back of
a midnight bus
in my hometown,
with a hippie headband on, accompanied with braids,
a long dress and moccasins of black suede
when a drunk teenager pointed and hollered directly at my face,
"you look like Pocahontas, how many John Smiths love you?"

I don't get angry anymore
I just get tired
my heart goes to sleep for days and wakes up at
the sudden gong of recognition
in eye contact
that lasts longer than just a few seconds;
my heart awakens at sunsets,
when I am sitting in a tree alone
and it awakens each time I successfully skip a stone

I've always thought highly of the two
disney cartoons
and it's not just because they can fire a harpoon
it's something like embodying the female
self-assurance,
strength of the soul,
embracing solitude like wind on a stroll
heart strong from a softening,
heart loved from singing just for singing
heart open like eye contact
that lasts longer than
just a few seconds
3.1k · Apr 2013
sensitivity
samasati Apr 2013
I am one of the lucky ones that has a high sensitivity to malignancy
I still wear it myself like a cape in the cold
but I can detect a sick person almost right away
some say that’s not very nice to say
though I’d rather know who’s a waste of my time than find out later when I’ve invested my heart & soul into the person
that’s part of what makes me a sick person,
investing myself too much in other people
and isn’t it funny
how we forget about these people that meant so much to us
once
obsession has its terminus
there are cusps a person trips off of that leave them falling,
spiralling into a new obsession or phase or life
or numbness
that’s why memory is so beautiful
even if it hurts a lot
it reminds us we are never going to be the same as we used to be
there’s something peaceful about that
though the sick find it tormenting
2.9k · Sep 2012
honesty
samasati Sep 2012
if you have the choice
(you always have the choice in every ******* second)
to be vulnerable or to be guarded,
choose vulnerability
because it’s honest
it’s clear, it’s concise, it’s the realest thing you’ll ever feel.
lying and reminding yourself to keep lying,
smiling and reminding yourself to keep smiling,
crying and reminding yourself to stop crying
can be such hard work
and honesty, even when throat throttling blatant,
even when timidly tender,
even when sharply studded, or sickly injured,
will always save you in the end
even if it hurts like dry ice whistling on your heart,
even if the person you love chooses to depart,
even if the pit in your stomach is knotting, or rotting
and you feel hopeless, worthless, foolish, guilty,
horrid, evil, mixed up or unhealthy -
honesty
will always save you in the end
2.9k · Mar 2014
werewolf
samasati Mar 2014
a helicopter flies above my neighbourhood at 7 in the morning
I'm awake
whether it is because the sound slapped my snooze
or because I hadn't yet fallen asleep
my autopilot doesn't choose to be annoyed
I let apathy trickle down my throat and settle in my gut, it freezes
chill to my forehead
and my heart stops being so soft
perhaps
I forgot
birds eat worms and I am a good liar
I take naps while my roommates eat their dinner
and that pulling my curtains shut to neglect the sun
is not the same thing as Schrodinger's Cat
- I think I'd like to be a werewolf
so the full moon could strip my hesitancies and my horrors
letting out a shrill holler, on all fours, barefoot in the soil
I'd just like to let go
just
let it all
go
to be forced instead of contemplation
to be loose instead of stagnation
it is kind of like when your whole heart begs to be seen
but is paralyzed by limelight
I want letting go to be easy
I don't want to work this hard for it.
2.8k · Sep 2012
moth
samasati Sep 2012
there’s a moth crawling up my kitchen wall

I had the sudden urge to **** it

smother it with a kleenex

swat it with a rolled up magazine

it keeps crawling up

losing its steadiness, almost falling

then regaining its steadiness again

moths freak me out

they look creepy

they look fragile

they look contaminated

perhaps they are contaminated with curiosity

so am I

their flickering flame is my flickering self-sabotage

I had an urge

I wanted to **** it

I’m just like this curious creature

just as fragile

just as contaminated

I might as well be looking in a mirror

and I had the urge to **** it
2.8k · Sep 2012
panic attack
samasati Sep 2012
whenever I feel the tremble start to ooze its way
from my compact mind to the tips of my fingers,
I immediately anticipate the fate
that I have always been able to foresee
whenever that familiar first jolt of an anxiety attack sails its way,
like a vessel in a storm
throughout my entire body

heart pounds an intolerable caution
lungs wheeze frigid determination with a rough friction
that lightly scrapes my core with a ticklish flutter
shoulders lift up into a hunch; absolutely automatic
the top tray of teeth lock clenched into the bottom tray’s hold
a fleet of air hisses in and out of two nostrils like a monk’s meditation
capacious eyes flicker from
the lid to the lash to the iris to the pupil to see everything

everyone is staring
everything is too intimidating to look at for longer than two seconds
then, the tunnel
the clearest, acute vision waters into a soft edged frame,
into a pixel mud of a picture, into a black peripheral,
black corners rounding in – a narrow and petty circle
I use it and follow it to wherever my
deepened impulse decides to take me

silently contemplating,
silently speculating,
silently examining
the fears I let my feeble self
get swallowed up in.
2.5k · Sep 2012
push & pull
samasati Sep 2012
I want to ****** you with my blue eyes
take you in for a little while
then walk away into another room
then come back and take you in a little while longer
until you come over and speak to me
then I want to listen to your every word
nod, smile, laugh, touch your arm
touch your thigh
look into your eyes
telling you
I want to kiss you
secretly in some kind of visual code,
that I want to lick your neck a little bit
and nibble on your ear
make you go crazy
make you tingle and pull away from
feeling too overwhelmed
then coming back to receive more,
and after that happens,
I want to crawl my fingers up your shirt
feel your warm stomach skin
ribs
chest
shoulders
pulling it over your head and throwing it on the floor
caressing your torso
hand prints against your back
pulling you closer toward me
pressing my pelvis up against yours
taking initiative
on my tippytoes
letting you take initiative
bending your back to my height
and it’s all muscle memory from there on;
breaking away from your lips and pressing my own
up against your collar bone
your shoulders
your chest
your treasure trail
your hip bones
undoing your belt
taking quite some time at this task because I find that
every man’s belt is very confusing to undo -
finally, success
pulling it through the belt loops
popping the button out of the hole
unzipping the zipper
clasping onto each side and pulling down
pushing down
they’re around your ankles and you step out
and then you’re in your briefs
just your briefs
all else is skin and devilish looks
then, pushing me onto the bed
on top of me with a ******* pressing up against
the space between my open legs
that wrap around your hips
kissing my neck
biting my neck
licking my neck
my earlobes
my shoulders
my collar bone
tongue swirls around the aroused tips of my chest
arousing me more
wanting me more
wanting you more
then you’ll take off my underwear and I’ll be fully naked
for you
on this bed that I want to ******* on
biting my lip
leaning forward to pull down your briefs
and you are fully naked
for me
you pop out freely
hard
stiff
pink
eager
your ******* linger low and decide I am ready
in goes the stiff  
out goes a moan
out pulls the stiff
in it goes again
I cannot describe what it is like
when you look me in the eyes when we make love
2.5k · May 2013
I lit a candle
samasati May 2013
I lit a candle in an empty concrete room

the floor is concrete
the walls are concrete
the ceiling is concrete

the candle is wax and wick
and I am skin and blood and cartilage and bone and hair and nail and water and guts and sad

I lit a candle in an empty concrete room
the yellow light of the fire makes things look tenebrous and cryptic
there are tiny cracks in the skin on my hand like a million piece puzzle of the ocean
tiny cracks between tiny triangles and diamonds
they make my hand
my hand holds a match
the match lights a candle
the candle burns
in an empty concrete room

concrete reminds me of falling off my bicycle and scraping my knees
and dungeons
and the weeds that grow in the cracks of every sidewalk

candles remind me of Christmas
and yoga in the dark
and my step-mother hoping her house smells like home
and calming down

I lit a candle in an empty concrete room,
crying bitterly at seclusion
my heart pounded to the flame’s flicker and a heavy thought tumbled into mud,
thickening it
it dried and I couldn’t cry

I don’t mean anything to this candle or this concrete
but there is something about a fire in a room built so rough and quiet
that makes me feel like
my voice is heard
2.4k · May 2013
kaleidoscope
samasati May 2013
I wish there was a better way to say I just cut myself again
a tidier way,
something that makes it sound less morbid and a bit more romantic
like barbados
like *** on the beach
for the irony of sabotaging a fling of intimacy for myself
sabotaging swimsuit and short-shorts season
I don’t want anyone to touch me
or even look at me
anyway
so it’s all in my favour
with
nails that are painted colourful like clowns
and there’s a red and white polkadot bow in my hair
personally, I think it’s kind of funny
that when people look through a kaleidoscope, all they see is
pretty colours instead of shards of broken glass
2.4k · Sep 2012
I Love You
samasati Sep 2012
I love you* isn’t

A fleeting memory of a camping trip.
It isn’t a strings attached contract that is signed out of intimidation or guilt.

It doesn’t last ‘until…’
You disappoint me. You abandon me. I find something better.

nor does it lay within the depths of ‘only ifs’ :
{only if you love me - only if you see me for who I am - only if you bake me an apple pie}


I love you is
Being able to love myself and vulnerably feel safe with who I am- in your  eyes

It means you are free to be you, to choose freely for yourself and bring forth any awakening, lesson or consequence with no judgment or close-minded examination.

It shakes loose of any stern expectation or obligation made for you because there is no need for you to size up to any other standard that isn’t You.
I love you means you are and always are enough.

It defines no separation between us; yet at the same time – I can celebrate my love for you without the presence of your face, voice or perfumed scent – you are always with me.

I love you is
My full acceptance for the beautiful, strong & powerful Being that you are –
In each bold and thick fiber.
It is the act of fulfilling my inner-self with such gratification and wholeness
Because it feels so utterly good to love you.
2.4k · Sep 2012
I want to feel you
samasati Sep 2012
not your body
not your skin
not the tips of your peachy fingers
not your passionate kiss
not your heart beat
not your breath hovering over my neck,
sending goosebumps and shivers down my spine
not your eyes sighting upon my beauty
or my loveliness or my seduction or my carefreeness
I want to feel you
move
inside
not inside of me
(though, that could be nice too)
inside of you
your own heart
your own echoing cage of ribs
that lock up even scarier skeletons
than the skeleton holding it all together
I want to feel you
without being with you
without holding you
without seeing you
without constantly thinking of you
without wanting you
I want to feel you
when I am miles away,
reading a book with a cup of tea in pyjamas
when you are in class and hear something brilliant
someone just said,
something that makes you stop and think of me
without resentment
without longing
without need
without hiding
something so simple, so clear and so pertinent
something that moves and removes the clutter
in you
I want to feel you love
yourself,
the world,
the trees, the scrapes on your heart’s knees
and me
with no want and no need
2.3k · Sep 2013
black magic
samasati Sep 2013
you are like black magic,
a hidden lip underneath a night of grace; underneath the canopy
of old soul trees, stretching out above
to protect hearts from being
hurt;
but you,

you are like black magic
and cheeky lick kisses under ****** blankets.
you were a secret
you were a shame
you were a dose of mortifying pleasure;
a sore amount; a quarter of a cup; a batch of chocolate chip cookies
with just one egg,
splenda, not sugar,
tofu, not meat,
never enough;
but I’m a sucker for vegetarianism and anything
orthorexic – I’ve compared you
to my biggest demon
too often; so I should really know that
you’re toxic –

I dance alone
with my eyes closed
and you’re there; step step, close.
your fingers slide into the gaps between mine
and now we’re interlocking,
like a devil on my back;
I move with you; dancing to your heartbeat
step step step, hold me close
and never let me go
-- oh please let me go
-- oh maybe I should let go.

We’re Getting Older,
the lyrics in the song I am listening to
tell me;
but I feel young under your gaze
a time machine; taking me back to a year ago
in the winter
in the cold
under the open, black sky
because the trees are broken and little in the winter,
leafless,
and don’t have enough life in them
to protect my heart
from being hurt
(by you).
oh you,

you are like black magic,
and I am like a baby lioness,
proud and easily tamed.
2.2k · Nov 2012
first kiss
samasati Nov 2012
that moment when
your uproar giggle turns into
a massive grin
as you are looking at each other, struck by
a soft silence and you both know
you are about to kiss because you both really want to kiss
and then
ah-hah
you kiss.
2.2k · Nov 2013
my bedroom
samasati Nov 2013
at the desk, applying for jobs
there is coffee in my cup
and paint in the creases of my fingernails,
on the wall, a whiteboard with new song lyrics
and a list
of things I need to buy,
of course, once I have the money to buy them,
which brings me back to the desk
which an empty bottle of Cabernet Merlot
sits with an empty glass
and notebooks and a mason jar
with cloudy brown-red water
from the bristles of my paintbrushes
my coffee is cold
the french press is in the kitchen
but my flatmate is filming in there
so I’m stuck at my desk
with two sips of cold coffee left,
applying for jobs.
I feel very fragile
right now,
partly because I didn’t go to a job interview
today,
partly because I didn’t go to a job trial,
on friday
though I don’t want to be a waitress
and **** modelling for art classes scares me.
there’s a plant on my windowsill
named Lucy
and she doesn’t have to do anything
and there are two vanilla candles and an incense holder
with lavender incense burning
but **** all the things that
"bring peace"
like small plants, candles, incense, crystals and photographs;
I want a healthy and clean life,
so I have these things
part as a protection
from my own mind
but to be perfectly honest,
I’m at the desk, browsing jobs online,
saving them for later into a bookmark folder entitled
"Wellington Jobs"
instead of actually applying.
2.1k · Sep 2013
Rules For A Backpacker
samasati Sep 2013
I must be incredibly wary
and alert
and I gotta follow my gut because there’s a reason to why
it aches
or jumps with excitement;
it knows
much more than my head does;
and I must hold myself firmly like a proud statue, but I can’t just stay in one place
I need to tiptoe on a tightrope
I mustn’t fall, but if I do, I mustn’t fuss
just get back up again,
just get on with it

I went to an art gallery this afternoon
and the theme of one small contemporary art room
was,
“just get on with it”,
(I decided that myself anyway);
there was a painting of an airplane, resting on snow,
that one was obvious
I said, “just get on with it, then, fly”
there was a painting of a snowy road,
that one was obvious too
there was a painting of a sad girl
again, obvious
but then there was a painting of a person
with a large smudge of green on his face, he barely had a face
and a large smudge of white on his waist, he barely had a waist;
I concluded,
“sometimes you don’t have a face and you just need to get on with it”
because my mood was easy breezy silly this afternoon;
but now I’m thinking
sometimes you lose your identity
and you just need to get on with it

I can barely take anyone serious when they ask the question,
“who am I?”
the answer is obvious if you allow simplicity into your heart,
“you’re what you are experiencing and feeling and being right now, and it’ll change all the time in every moment”
so,
I feel kind of commiserable
and much of a parody
for sitting in a busy mall foodcourt, with a cup of coffee I didn’t even buy at that foodcourt,
remixing an old song on garageband,
then looking up and realizing I’m surrounded by all of these kiwi strangers
and finally asking the question
“who am I”
oh I’m a lunatic, aren’t I?

I must be open, but not too open
and easy to get along with, but not too easy to get along with
I must catch a wave on the first try,
but if I wipe out, I mustn’t turn red;

I need to watch what I say
before I say it
but also find the courage to speak
when I’m shy
and I must be considerate
but not let people walk all over me

I can’t be a pushover, and I can’t be too much of a leader
because I don’t know what I’m doing
here;
I can love but I shouldn’t fall in love
at least for awhile
because I’m still high from the transition and I’m dubious of how
authentic and sincere
my falling in love
would be

worrying is the most unnecessary thing
money isn’t an issue
(right now)
and loneliness is a blessing
but it’s also a sickness
and I must remind myself that I’m worth not being lonely
and instead being free
and above all,
I am capable of anything I set my mind to,
even if I forget
“who I am”
or “what I wanna be”
above all,
I must always be me.
2.0k · Sep 2013
clarity
samasati Sep 2013
you’re free;
you’ll see

maybe all it takes is a seagull
******* on your cap

and you’ll just sit there and laugh -

that’s clarity
2.0k · Sep 2013
namaste dear
samasati Sep 2013
it is so easy to love you



*and incredibly hard to miss you.
1.9k · Dec 2013
before me
samasati Dec 2013
I can tell you’ve never been touched
like a hurricane doesn’t matter
like 40 below or a deep papercut between your
thumb and your index
couldn’t do any more harm
than a teddybear or marigold —
but that was
before me

before me,
you’ve never been touched
and you’ve never touched
quite like
dissolving  
into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass
and you’ve never stopped
to feel your ****** like stopping to
smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt
or the daffodils
or the lilac trees, purple and white
or to smile at a happy sunflower
like all of your little hesitancies and horrors
are of little to no caliber

before me,
you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something,
you’d never give yourself
a chance
to be yourself
in the sober light of love

you’re shy and you avoid it
but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles
on your balcony,
you’d finally know
you ought to stop pouring at night
and figure out how to explore at night;
dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour
on the pavement
for hours and hours
until the sun awakes
like you have the power to love

even if

it aches

and at first, it will, like frostbite,
like papercuts all over your palms,
like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you,
like getting fired or evicted or rejected
because remembering something
as fierce and as merciless
as love
is heartbreakingly overwhelming
for the fact that

you had

forgotten

and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd
it’ll only ***** you over
and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony
and before me,
I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy
because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt
but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic,
so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.
1.9k · Jun 2013
redemption
samasati Jun 2013
I know what it’s like to be heartbroken too

it feels like a bomb

like the flowers that have been eaten alive by aphids

always sitting with you, uncomfortable,

a notch tighter on your belt loop after a heavy meal

or someone taking an unflattering picture of you and posting it all over the internet

you are ugly to yourself now,
and quiet because of it

I lost my clarity after I ran up the hill and rolled down it, clumsily with joy

it must have fallen out of my pocket or dripped out of my eye sockets
as they teared up from the pollen

I ask myself

what is true?

but it’s harder here, when I can’t be certain if there’s a ghost hanging around in my frontal lobe or if it’s just the pulsating fear of being kicked to the curb

that’s what being heartbroken is like -

always feeling like you’re being kicked to the curb for no good reason

it’s like,
what’s the point of getting up in the morning? I’ll make breakfast and then somebody will hurt me again

the point is
learning how to decipher the difference between apathy and acceptance

you’ll get there

redemption doesn’t count or feel at all rewarding if everything is easy
1.9k · Nov 2012
3AM
samasati Nov 2012
3AM
It’s 3am and it’s fiercely windy outside – so my rattling window tells me.
I’ve pulled up my blinds and have set my vanity chair in the middle of my room to watch the trees sway with vigorous grace.
It looks like they’re having an anxiety attack.
They’re dancing to cope with the battles of the weather.

They’re scared.

Scared their trunks may snap and they’ll die.
They won’t die, they never do – but they’re still scared they will.

They’re silent too.

Silently swaying scared.
They’re so beautiful.
Their silence is beautiful.
Their silent fear is beautiful.

They are so real, I can relate.
1.8k · Sep 2012
the battle with aggravation
samasati Sep 2012
lovely, these pages I sew
for sadness I know not to tamper with like a joke -
a sick joke that people find amusing.
I do not find that kind of joke, or you to be amusing.

I clasp my hands tightly together, interlocking knuckles
and sit very still while the company is antsy to inspect
me for any weakness.
(I am always assuming everyone is out to judge me so rashly)
I am straining my back and the very moment I slouch,
I will fall into the pit of self-irritability,
yelling at myself because my bones persist on frangibility.
God! am I ever good enough?!
(I am always judging myself so rashly)

I want to buy myself a cottage near a swamp, hoarding
the repugnant slime near my fireplace cozied up reading a book.
you may trespass; I am willing to share this (hell) with you
if you wish to get so close to me.

I do though, (at my best) suffice
lingering around buying myself something nice (you could put it)
when I'm aggravated, I tend not to listen
not even to my own advice.
samasati Sep 2012
hey there, i’ve got some bad news

it’ll wrap your neck tight with a noose

until your cheeks turn purple-blue

and you can’t feel your feet in your shoes

you’ll want to pick up a bottle of *****

and down it until your body feels abused

you’ll pass out and wake up confused

perhaps with a new drunken tattoo

all of your friends may be amused

but your regret and shame will suffuse

each time they point, laugh and slap the bruise

you’ll hide your pain ‘cos that’s what strong people do

and resentment will ride high through and through

‘til your face turns rock cold and you make the excuse

that everyone is ****** and they’re the ones to accuse

you’ll abandon your home without saying adieu

because you don’t need people that make you feel deduced

you don’t need to feel like you are being used

to the point you turn dark and only want to seclude

from love itself cause you can’t trust that it’s true

you can’t trust that it’s safe or that it won’t lead you askew

you might want to die, though the thought is so taboo

you’ll judge yourself for holding onto society’s views

until it comes to the point where you can’t handle the queue

the waiting for love gets tough but the whole time you grew

and it’s not so bad anymore, it even almost ensues

so you get on a boat, and row your canoe

out in the river, it’s just the water and you

and you’ll realize, finally that you’ve got nothing to lose
1.7k · Sep 2012
just because
samasati Sep 2012
just because I’m being cute doesn’t mean
you’ll forgive me.

just because I want to talk about what happened doesn’t mean
you want to share your feelings

just because I’m listening to Pachelbel doesn’t mean
I’ll get out of bed.

just because I’m staring at my ukulele doesn’t mean
I’ll write a song.

just because I tell everyone else not to fret the small stuff doesn’t mean
that I won’t.

just because you call me doesn’t mean
I’ll answer.

just because I’m with my friends doesn’t mean
I’m not lonely.

just because I said I ate today doesn’t mean
I actually did.

just because I want to see you now doesn’t mean
I’ll want to see you tomorrow.

just because I’m really honest doesn’t mean
I’m not a good liar.

just because I’m smiling doesn’t mean
I’m not crying on the inside.
1.7k · Nov 2012
Hell, I
samasati Nov 2012
Hell, I scrambled to an amusement park last night,
strapped myself in and coasted for hours
I didn't give myself a break instead I kept coasting until it got
hot and buzzed an alarming buzz
It was overheating, as was I, runnels of inhuman sweat stuck to my face
like glue from a hot gun

{they gave me a hot glue gun so I could make them better crafts than an 'ol family portrait with
blue and green markers on the backside of a receipt from the horse races; but my papa didn't
care about the crafts; he just wanted me busy so he could watch the tube and maybe have a nap
in the evening}

The cart is rattling out of its own carriage; I look up to the angels and only see black ***** smoke
Hell, I make a black ***** mess out of most things lately so instead I sit in it
because I usually run out of it; having towers crash and explode behind me
Hell, ya get what ya pay for; I pay for nothing, you pay for everything, I take everything – both of us will always know that

{remember when you'd say we'd go for ice cream to get me to shut up
we never went for ice cream}

Sparks underneath the rails, I twisted my stiff neck to stay still in something blasphemously heavy
{I used to think I was so heavy}

It’s like the feeling you get when you want to do something but your body won't succumb
Split mind & body interpersonal connections - left and right are both just forward,
Going forward to somewhere I've already been.
Hell, I let myself flood until they **** smacked the gates open with a
"What the **** are you tryna do? **** yourself?!" reprimand

And I even almost came to see you because you really wanted a daughter again and
I really wanted a father {again} - I've never really had one to begin with.
Instead, I listened to the cat's in the cradle and cut in my cradle
And hell, I really needed to be loved
I think more than I have ever needed
{you never left but you never came to leave me}

Hell, I don't think I have even seen hell yet; but one day it'll do me in good.
Thou he slay me, yet will I trust in him.
1.7k · Sep 2012
tongue-tied
samasati Sep 2012
Tongue-tied butterflies, the tickling flutter inside -
but it’s not the good kind,
it’s the sucker-punch kind
that makes you nauseous and want to stay in bed all day
looking out your window
until your heavy hulk eyelids snap shut
and you dream of the fantasy where you are not this
wretched, evil or confused.
Everything makes sense there.
All you do is dance with one person
underneath the leaf-canopy of a sycamore tree.
You kiss and your bellies rumble with laughter,
for each other, with each other.
And when they scurry off, you are alone,
but you’re alright because you’ve seen what you look like in the mirror,
and you’ve never been so pleased.
The meaning of love in this faerie land forest is to simply, be, as you are
with nothing but yourself.
Nothing but your hands,
nothing but your eyes.
It’s the sparking connection,
touching someone else,
and seeing their lips curl into the most vivacious grin.
It makes love special but it doesn’t make love, for you already are such.
I awaken at the sound of chirping birds,
my window still glowing of shady sunlight.
Tongue-tied butterflies, the tickling flutter inside -
but it’s not the good kind,
it’s the sucker-punch kind
that makes you sick,
you see how sick you are,
you are sick of who you are.
1.6k · Aug 2012
top drawer
samasati Aug 2012
put on a gown
and wave like a queen

in a batmobile

you keep your crown stored
in a top dresser drawer

underneath black lace lingerie
with the tags still on

put it on

you’ve got nice legs

notice them

I’d **** for a body like yours
so put your hand on your chest

and feel the beat tell you
you’re worth so much more

than you think you are
so it’s about time

you opened that top drawer
1.6k · Sep 2013
pipe dream
samasati Sep 2013
we used to play
you used to call
and now we email
back & forth
once in awhile ~
I sign my new name:
love you, Samasati
but I feel the same,
clinging to a pipe dream;
however, aware of the glum analogy that:
other hearts are to me as my heart is to you
and still forgiveness is
an issue.
hypocritical overly heartswelled idiot;
blockhead, nitwit;
I am.
but when you told me
you miss me,
you miss my ******,
you miss my intensity,
all I could muster up was
a hardy laugh.
1.5k · Oct 2012
apple and an adam's apple
samasati Oct 2012
have I not held a fruit
in so long?
one that is this organic and whole
an apple
a good grip, a solid fit
like a hand
another hand to hold
that I had not held
but had wished to hold
more longingly than a piece
of fruit;
which speaks directly to
my orthorexia
in loud blows of
chicken-bone-in-my-throat
yelps and laments
it screams:
I WOULD RATHER HOLD AN ICE CREAM CONE
IN ONE HAND IF I GOT TO HOLD YOUR HAND
WITH MY OTHER HAND THAN HOLD A DUMB
APPLE IN MY HAND WITH THE OTHER EMPTY

an apple
a good grip, a solid fit
my eyes watch the bulb in your throat bounce
up and down
when you laugh
(you laugh more than most people do
and I love that about you);
when you silently swallow
after nodding and listening, engaging
my eyes with
the rings of your deep brown irises;
when you gulp down a gin & tonic or Stella
or horrid spiced wine gone luke warm from the cold rain;
I watch the apple bounce
up and down;
a good grip, a solid fit,
I’d throw it away (any day)
to curl my fingers around an ice cream cone
1.5k · Apr 2013
instinct
samasati Apr 2013
there are vanilla scented candles
and plaid scarves,
acrylic paints of every ******* colour
and wool socks,
a closet full of pretty dresses
and a bookshelf full of good reads
but I’m not happy

there is laughing
there is smiling
there is feeling good
sometimes
but I’m so unsatisfied
with what I’ve got
though I seem to have just about
everything

I have a good mother
I have friends that care
I have blankets
I have good teeth
I have rubber boots
some people say I have nice legs
I have compassion
I have the drive to create
I have trees
I have long hair
some people say I have kindness
I have a bus pass
I have a new job
I have flexibility
I have enough money
some people say I have talent
but I’m unappreciative
and ******* myself  
still

there are booked gigs
and improv shows,
interesting conversations
and instruments,
trees and leaves and twigs
and pinecones,
the sky,
the zoo,
the cafes
but I get insecure most of the time

there are long hot baths
and biting nails,
then painting nails,
then repainting nails
and biding time,
then hating time,
then being okay with time,
there are long stares in the mirror
sometimes glares
sometimes there are puffy eyes
there is frustration
in my fingers
in my head
in my voice
at the piano
on stage
being vulnerable in a crowd of cool actors and musicians
fear of being seen
fear of being unseen
fear of doing it WRONG
fear of looking stupid
looking ugly
looking pathetic
sounding stupid
sounding ugly
sounding pathetic

there are dreams of leaving
this city
this head
these people I have known
for what seems like forever
there are dreams of healing
and loving my skin
and the natural amount of fat
that is underneath it
there are dreams out there
there are so many of them
that I’m afraid to wish
that I’m afraid to think of
from caution of them not happening
from caution of disappointment
and loneliness
and neediness,
then purposelessness

there is wanting
and wanting
and wanting
something better
I don’t know what
just something better
but waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for it to come to me
instead of
trying
and going
and getting
it myself
1.5k · Aug 2012
a kiss
samasati Aug 2012
I opened my eyes and saw fireworks
how silly, I thought

those are street lights
I could’ve sworn they were fireworks

ripples of rhapsody saturating through my skin

*******
did you know, you’re my favourite person to kiss?

the sweet-gentle ones and the devoted-amore ones
the quick-teasing ones and the I’ve-gotta-take-a-breath-now ones
the infallible tongue and the soft grazing of lips
your hands lowering all the way down to my hips

we are a tidal wave merging in and out of the ocean

unity

harmony

zeal

I don’t care if we’re in a car, it’s nirvana all the same
heaven and azure

all the particles of my body click into place and everything
fits together
like a bowl of summer fruit

I opened my eyes and remembered
where we were

I opened my eyes and remembered
we existed
1.5k · May 2013
boomerang
samasati May 2013
patterns
echoes
come back to me like a boomerang

I haven’t seen you in clarity
in a long time

a horse race track
and I am galloping, number 9,
with blinders on the sides of my eyes

running to run, not
running to win, just
running for running
away

I thirst for distance, yet
recognition
it’s easy to take one step too far away
it’s not easy to stay
it’s easy to regret anything

still, maybe I am barefoot at your door
when the neighbourhood is asleep
I dreamt you and my best friend fell in love
and she didn’t know about us
you drank lemonade and held hands
a perfect summer romance

I haven’t seen you in so long
but I saw you last week

your name is famous
to an ice rink,
to the sky I spoke to today
it echoes, even in a field

or perhaps
just in my head
brain, batting its lashes
at your name

it echoes all the same
1.5k · Sep 2012
it was left
samasati Sep 2012
there is a difference between honesty and candour.

there is a difference between pleasure and joy.

a difference between relief and relaxation.

a difference between sufficient and fit.

between comfy and cozy.

between placidity and tranquility.

between restraint and stillness.

between care and cherish.

light and shine.

love and in love.

easy and natural.

real and true.
1.4k · Mar 2013
the airport (MTL)
samasati Mar 2013
coffee drizzles
it’s tasty
& comforting
there’s too much snow
it won’t stop snowing
the window is getting boring
all I can think about
is the muffin I just ate
& what it will be like to be
home again
where all I think about
are the things I’ve just eaten
& sometimes why I haven’t
really left
my hometown yet
& not just for another getaway trip
but for good
I’ve always thought
a grey day
is the perfect metaphor
for how I feel most of the time
but so does everyone else
so I am just like
all of those other boring people
with boring lives
like this window
& the mother with the four
very plain looking kids
three tables down
& the muffins lined up
on the counter top
for boring people like me to buy
as they wait
for a plane to come to
carry them to a whole
new world
where routine doesn’t exist
only margaritas & surf’s up
or else,
to carry them back home
back to reality
back to functioning like
a complete robot
in the safety of
fear
there is a plane waiting to take off
just sitting on the runway
I wonder when it’ll get going
I wonder where everyone inside of it
is going
& where I am going
& what I am doing
here
instead of living
I watch snow fall out of a window
when it could soak me up
& give me a reason to sit
by the fireplace
with blankets, tea & a book
whether I am alone
or with a lover, friend, cat or dog
I can see
how that sounds more boring
than sitting in an airport
eating muffins
but it is exciting
to me
because it is happiness
to me
1.4k · Aug 2013
samsara
samasati Aug 2013
is suffering
with boulders on your eyelids;
splinters in your chest
and then finding perfect sight and a calm breath

that is samsara
1.4k · Jun 2014
attraction
samasati Jun 2014
A boyish smile, a frivolous response, lips grazing my neck
Put on a plaid shirt and I’ll take mine off for you
Never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in

I’m a sucker for sad eyes. That’s the compassion.
Pair those with thick-rimmed glasses: I’ll believe anything you say --
And I had a puppy once, so it’s a natural reflex to fill the bowl with water and affection and treats of all sorts.
My heart gives and gives and runs dry and quits
My heart quits and quits and floods with isolation and goes back to giving;
giving
giving
Tell me I'm living --
square one, I’m a hamster
You know, exasperation shouldn’t be as normal
as brushing your teeth
But then again, we’re all supposed to floss everyday and I always seem to forget to,
like Well-Being in general as my heart
gives and gives and dries and quits and gives and quits
and quits and quits
on everyone else that exists

You know,
I don’t want a man that fuels a petty cycle as long as a noose wrapped around my neck
I don’t want a man that shrugs off pain because he’s a man
I don’t want a man that eats his feelings or drugs his feelings or explodes his feelings all over the bed

I’ll desire disregard
and not long enough kisses that cut off like a woman’s water breaking midsentence.
A rocket,
An earthquake
I’ll want a fading away so that I can feel like I want something
& I’m a sucker for freckles and hard rock abs and defined biceps.
& british and french and irish accents.
& most of all, a man that doesn’t need me, or even want to see me
all that often

the space to contemplate
Am I Enough
The waver between
I want to be Enough
I don’t want to be Enough
I want to be Enough
No, I don’t want to be Enough
So I can want
Want
Aspire
Dream
Desire
Live in ifs and buts and maybes, dazed like a complete and utter
cliche

I don’t want a man that gives me a purpose
I don’t want a man that gives me flowers
Okay, I want a man that gives me flowers
and chocolate and good morning kisses and his time

I don’t want a man that snores
But he’s allowed to snore
I don’t want a man that cringes at a menstrual cycle
I don’t want a man that lives halfway across the world or a man next-door that lives in his head 24/7
I don’t want a man that punches his pain through walls
Or mirrors
Or ******* or dickwads or ******* faces

You know,
never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in
if you let me in
and I can let you in

I don’t want a man that won’t let me in
I don’t want a man that won’t let love in.
1.4k · Jan 2014
third date
samasati Jan 2014
we have the same freckle on the same palm
right hand, below the thumb

you’ve got a fake parrot in your bathroom
and I grew up with one in mine, a jungle bathroom my mother painted

if you owned measuring cups, the cookies would have tasted
more like sugar and less like soap

we watched 68% of Hercules and 90% of Pocahontas
then it was suddenly 5AM and I made you stay awake with me

kisses were soft
I taught you how to make someone feel good by grazing your fingertips
up and down their arm, wrist to the shoulder
you shivered and your eyes glazed over

the affection gave me goosebumps
the guitar gave me nostalgia

you said you’re moving to london soon
I said I was so excited for you
you said you needed to get your life in order instead of swoon over some girl
I hate and I love always being that girl

you own a lady bed with rhinestones on it
you said they messed up the order but you kept it anyway
I giggled
we cuddled
you fell asleep
I listened to you snore
I left to go to work
I think you're sweet
and I’m sorry that I don’t care if I never see you again
1.4k · Nov 2013
i could die
samasati Nov 2013
you’re like an echo,
a pattern on a rug,
a wild rainstorm without the flood


I drew an X and O on a piece of bark 

with my red lipstick but I didn’t have the guts

to put it in your mailbox



that’s a true story

you met a *****

golden smile and legs

when we last spoke, I told you life was absolutely great

dishonesty gets the best of me
when really I’m alone here

trying to scrimp and save

every moment you and I have made

and I could die

that’s a sad story
and a true story

patterns
echoes
come back to me like a boomerang

I haven’t seen you in clarity
in a very long time

you’re like a horse race track
and I am galloping, number 9

running for dear life,
with blinders on the sides of my eyes


running to run, not
running to win, just
running for running
away

I never found it easy to stay
in one place
in my head, even in my heart
they’re fickle body parts

it’s easy to take one step too far away
it’s not easy to stay
it’s easy to regret anything
and I do all of these things over and over again

I’ll probably always thirst for distance
but if you need to,
you can find me in my garden, where I plant
a lot of thought
I’ll always hope that someday,
you’ll recognize your loss and look me in the eyes again

I’m like a hayseed
having a hard time surrendering to the wind
and I could die

still, maybe I am barefoot at your door
while the neighbourhood is asleep
drawing X’s and O’s on tree bark or two stick figures kissing
with sidewalk chalk

I dreamt you were with someone else
you drank lemonade and held hands,
a perfect summer romance

it made me want to die
it made me want to write you a letter and then burn it
but I decided to repress it all instead

I’m sorry for leaving
and then coming back
and then leaving again

and though I only saw you last week,
I haven’t seen you in clarity in a long time

it makes me lonely and when I feel lonely,
I speak to the sky
whispering secrets, you see,
it’s the only thing I can always speak to without lying

the truth is a fierce thing,
like wind can be,
it can be merciless
and I am just a hayseed
having a hard time surrendering to the wind

oh, the truth
it echoes, even in a field

or perhaps
just in my head

you can’t run away from the truth after you tell it to the sky
because the sky is everywhere,
always watching

always listening

always there

and that kind of makes me want to die
1.4k · Aug 2014
all sadness is a tantrum
samasati Aug 2014
I'm sure my mother breastfed me enough
& coddled me when I gave up on ever cleaning my room
and keeping it clean for longer than a week
after she'd clean it up for me

I'm sure I've always preferred taking baths instead of showers
because I like taking my time
submerging my body in a divine
warm pool of pausing life for a minute because I need to breathe
and procrastinate the stressful mess I've made

I'm sure I'm afraid of confrontation and telling the truth
when it means someone will hate me
even if I know it doesn't matter what people think,
I'm sure it's an instant mirror that shows me something about myself
and monsters are supposed to stay under the bed, not inside of my subconscious head

I'm sure I want everybody to love me
but I'm not sure if I want everyone to know that
because what's unattractive is repelling
and if I'm alone it means hurting gets overwhelming
and I'm sure all sadness is a tantrum
but just because I get quiet cold inside instead of **** on my thumb
doesn't mean there's any difference in soothing addiction

I'm sure all sadness is a tantrum
and I'm sure all tantrums are affiliated with believing
untrue thoughts, whether logical or foolish
just because you have a mosquito bite doesn't mean you
need to itch it
1.4k · Sep 2013
"you got a ouchie"
samasati Sep 2013
my little cousin is almost 3
and she is just like me
- or just like I was
when I was 3.
she’s stubborn
and she growls.
I used to growl,
apparently.
she’s a climber, a growler
and an observer
with messy messy curly hair;
it is such a nest, I recalled
the years my mother would
yank
a brush through my ringlets
and I would cry.
my little cousin
knows what she wants,
obviously,
she’s 3.
I was sitting on a bench, listening to
my family
talk about old stories
with my aunt that is now
dying.
she stood in front of me, my little cousin,
staring
quite blankly, like she didn’t need anything.
I looked in her eyes, she looked
in mine.
"you got a ouchie"
she told me.
"yeah? where?" I asked her.
"there," she touched just below
my knee
with her index finger.
indeed, there was a fresh
scar.
and immediately I was buried
in a memory
of how I got that scar.
it was just over two weeks ago,
actually;
and I hadn’t felt the skin rip
until the accident was over.
or I could call it an affair,
or a pit of passion, or I could even
call it a mistake.
"how did you get an ouchie?"
my other cousin asked me;
she’s almost 7.
I was devastated.
I wanted to be upright,
be honest, in a
calm kind of way;
but you can’t do that with children
like this.
I wanted to say,
"a boy gave this to me."
but instead I said,
"oh, I fell a couple weeks ago."
"on the sidewalk?" asked the almost 7 year old.
"something like that," I told her.
"you fall hard and got ouchie!" squealed the almost 3 year old.
she’s too smart, for her age
how did she know
that’s exactly
what happened
1.4k · Apr 2013
you'll get along
samasati Apr 2013
it’ll be shaved legs and summer dresses
without cardigans
sunkissed hair, skin, eyes even
though you’ll never know, I wonder,
would your eyes burst out of their sockets
like rockets
if you saw that much of my skin
under healthy light?
instead of naked in your bed
I’m untouchable,
a fantasy, barefoot in a meadow
skin so wanted
- though she’ll be wearing hers
blatantly and ready
for you to have,
smoking a cigarette she says is her
last
because
‘she’s only smoked three
this week’
she’s proud, sure she is
though you’re not even sure you care at all
and the sun makes the day longer
the moon makes the night as romantic
as Paris
and you’ll get along
even though you don’t smoke
and she doesn’t know what it means
to not need you
and she doesn’t know what it means
when you’re with and crave the skin
of another woman
- like me for instance -
but you’ll get along
like sea turtles or baby pandas playing
under sheets or
spontaneously in your kitchen
weaving breaths
weaving beats
an effortless ******
then heavy sleep
because you two know what it’s like
to know each other that well
yeah,
you’ll get along  
for months to come
1.3k · Dec 2013
you call me an enigma
samasati Dec 2013
difficult* is sleeping with you

effortless is making love

shy is the moment after realizing I’m being too quiet in clarity
for you to feel comfortable

clarity is when I tell you the late evening sun lowers its golden tint
on everything and makes the leaves look vibrant green
and if it were to be one of those funny named colours in a paint swatch, it’d be
"I’m Alive! Green"

frustrated is when I see two pillowcases of identical fabric,
one more faded than the other,
and fail to explain why I’m not sure if the metaphor is sad or not

intricate is the way my mind is built

fragile is the way my heart is

heavy is when I talk about how rarely I cry

phoney is when I laugh about crying at a season finale to cover it up

beautiful is what you remind me I am

insecure is when I talk too much

comfort is eating lots of food

comfort is not eating food

disappointment is when I change my mind about your company

horror is asking you to leave

anxious is the way I feel when you are asleep beside me

frivolous is the pillow talk

juvenile is my babbling

fast is my heartbeat

enigma is what you keep calling me
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