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samasati May 2013
my
libido
has
slowly
been
shutting
down
each
time
I
have
an
opportunity
with
intimacy
with
somebody
that
isn’t
**you
samasati Apr 2013
blue
the colour is always blue
when I want something
when Father won’t answer me
my pillow

my curtains, but they’re swept to the sides and the blinds are up
the sky is white
I’ve never seen the sky so white
it looks sick
the branches look violent, like they are deprived of attention
everything looks sick

that tree I can see, means so much to me
when I feel something, I pretend it is feeling the same thing
like impatient the other day, it must’ve been too
with no leaves come past springtime
it makes me blue

the colour is always blue
when I’m in love
blankets
sometimes my eyes
when I ask Father to dinner tonight or lunch tomorrow and he replies
“maybe Wednesday, not sure”
blue is the cover of the book of poetry I had written
and abandoned
blue is sadness
blue is the colour of giving up
sometimes hope

blue is the colour of people’s hair in my nightmares, when I get so frustrated their hair isn’t brown or blonde and I try so hard to change it,
it’s always going to be blue
and I wake up from thinking too much

most of my wardrobe
polkadots and stripes
shades on my canvases
I use blue
like it’s mine
like it’s me

my favourite colour is blue
it has always been blue
samasati Aug 2013
midnight was exhilarating
afoot, steadfast with a purpose
of leaving one place
to get to another

but it turned over to one in the morning
and that was nervousness of time,
of premonition and marvel shock;

then time was two and I lit a candle
in my bedroom for you
but you said three
so I read a book that often calms me

though three turned over to four
and you still haven’t come by my door
samasati Jan 2014
pick and choose, they say,
just because you didn't catch the bouquet
doesn't mean it's okay to reel in a bucket of that many fishies
and not set even one free
you don't need that many fishies, they say
but I insist on upgrading my aquarium each and every day
I swear there aren't two of the same
and so what if I'm a collector
so what if I like the way it feels
so what if boredom stabs and I need a refreshment
so what if I don't understand commitment
because they have feelings, they say,
so it doesn't make it okay!
samasati Apr 2014
leave me stranded in the bathtub
with soap sting eyes and without a cold wet washcloth to rub on them,
do not comfort me but twist rope burns in my lungs
and ten cactuses in my tummy
and pins and needles in my lips, falter my grin and I’ll still try
to grin for you.
I never thought I’d feel you gone
like evaporated waterfalls and great lakes gone green
are you the one that I love or just another
tiptoe on the edge of a cliff just to feel
rather tingled with jolly breezes and tempestuous dramas,
to feel
useful,
to
scream.
mutual breakups still hurt
samasati Mar 2013
I miss using words
like acrylic paint
I miss the strokes
my mind would create
but nothing feels
as good as peace
there isn’t one word
that can give that kind of release
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
samasati Jan 2013
Remember,

people care about you

they think about you far more than you think they do

they see something that reminds them of you on the street or in a store and they smile because you are a great person and they love that they know you

knowing you makes them happy

knowing you might make them sad too, because sometimes people want more from you than you’re willing to give, but you shouldn’t dwell on making them upset because you are still great and you still bring more happiness to them on most days

sometimes people get sad and that’s not your fault

it is not your job to make a person feel better, and changing who you are just to make them feel better is just a false sense of loyalty that you’re showing them; and anyway, it is far more rewarding to nurture other people by being true to who you are because it is simultaneously nurturing yourself.

when you are sick, get as much affection as you possibly can and do not feel bad about it

tell someone you love them because you just do, not because you feel guilty, obligated or crave their approval

it’s not the end of the world if people don’t need you and it’s probably not the healthiest thing if they are constantly depending on you to clean their messy lives up all the time

you will never regret putting “go to the library” on your to-do list, even if you are swamped and stressed with other things to do; there is nothing quite like being among a whole world of books

don’t be embarrassed about your laugh or blowing your nose in public or even turning bright red when you do get embarrassed because there is nothing wrong with any of these things

you can be sincere or you can be manipulative, but remember that you know how it feels to be manipulated too

people ******* over all the time, but that just makes them people and you are just the same as these people because you do it too, so lighten up and see it’s not a big deal, but don’t let them walk all over you time and time again because that is just disrespectful to yourself

learn when to stay and when to walk away

you are awesome
samasati Sep 2013
time 2 pack
time 2 downsize
time 2 feel your heartbeat
time 2 lick the chocolate frosting off the plate;
indulge,
enjoy;
and always always always appreciate

time 2 give hugs
time 2 dance
time 2 nurse a hangover
time 2 pick apples off the tree in the backyard
while you still can;
time 2 breathe, don't forget to breathe
always make time
to breathe

time to go
time to grow
I'm moving to New Zealand tomorrow. What even is life.
samasati Dec 2013
if you don’t remember me in ten years time,
I really don’t mind
because time walks
and gets to look at street signs and forests and waterfronts
and deserts and mountains and all of the little messages in books
that can’t help but change your outlook
and the beds of new lovers
and the eyes of new lovers
and that new lover’s wetted skin in the shower.

there was a day when I was trying to remember
all the names of all the boys I have ever kissed
and I couldn’t
because time walks
away
and is bound to forget
a few magical moments.
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.
samasati Sep 2012
it’s hard to see people that have upset you
that have unknowingly made you cry;
to be in the same room as them and laugh with everyone,
pretending like everything is okay
when the uproar of feeling sick to your stomach
is telling you
everything is not okay
because standing next to this person hurts more than
any regular anxiety attack.
standing next to this person makes you want to run away
and stay perfectly still in the same moment.
you lie to protect your pride
you lie well, you hide well, you hurt well.
it’s the wanting them to know that comes and goes
it’s the wondering if they know that never goes.
you’re on your way out the door
feeling the smack of fresh air hit your heavy lungs
and you’re alone with the shame
of never being honest.
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
samasati Nov 2013
if I inch a little closer, it will give me
warmth

I have felt like a million pieces of a human scattered about
in several fields and bushes
like ash floating in the sky
and seashells washed up on the shore

but with warmth,
realness and a true heart is remembered
and the abundance of smeared portraits of 

that sad girl
or that stupid girl
or that crazy girl
or any identity
is nothing more than a pen's strikeout on
a word
that just doesn't belong in
a perfect sentence
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 ******* *****
we
samasati Apr 2013
we
knew the other
like we knew the sky
I was often rainy grey
you were often the perfect summer day

made love
on three different occasions
in total, five times
it was kept secret
the last time was more remarkable
than any other intimate night

surrendered ourselves
to fate

will never stop loving each other
even when I hate
all that exists

are timelessly compatible
but it wouldn’t make sense
and it’s not the time for that
though we are timeless

are nothing
together
and everything  
because of it

will see each other again
probably in a new country
a new continent
that is almost a fact to me

will never stop loving each other
that is a fact to me
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.
samasati Nov 2013
please
be tender with me
but don’t let me use you
that’s something I’ve gotten the hang of and readily available people
sometimes shouldn’t always be so
readily available ~
I know this because I’ve often been too readily available
and walked all over,
I think I still have the footprints on my little arrhythmic heart
to prove it —

oh
I’m pretty sure though,
you know,
that we all know what it’s like
to be the plant uprooted from the soil
for the selfish purposes of indoor decor:
it needs
and needs and needs
because self-sufficient roots were cut
and it pleads
and pleads and pleads
*please
be tender with me,
for I don’t know what I am doing here
let alone how to live here in this dark
****** pit you call a home — *

I’ve made a new home for myself
every day
because every day, I am not the same
it’s a constant struggle of
head vs. heart
and
holding back vs. art; &
if I’m going to be honest about one thing
it’s that
I’m completely alright … it’s just,
admitting that means
I’ve got to step into the light
and I’m just so attached to this little plant inside of me
that has been uprooted and abused,
I’m dwelling on mistakes and madness and using
a thousand nouns to fill me whole,
I completely forget that playing the victim makes me sick
and to grow,
all I need is water, love and sun for my soul.
samasati Oct 2013
take off your mask
Halloween isn't every day
you're shy
but you're brave;
I'm still trying to figure out
how
to get over you
I'm shy
but I'm brave --
though I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
you are less than you can be
it makes it so hard to be free
and I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling unwanted,
there is nowhere else to go
besides a labyrinth
down below.
take off your hurt,
it's removable just like a shirt
and hang it to the side;
look in the mirror,
your mother could not have been more clear:
beauty resides --
yes, I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
you are blackened to the root
going rotten like a fruit;
and I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
there is nothing but the blues
so there is nothing left to lose.
samasati Jan 2013
when I loved you, I wrote poetry every day
sometimes for long hours at night
I would walk around my neighbourhood in the middle of the night with a cigarette
between *******,
but I never inhaled because I never wanted to get addicted
I was already too addicted to you
and other behaviours that made it so hard to love you

but when I did love you, I’d write beautiful words on my skin
with permanent marker
because I liked the idea of a tattoo but knew I’d never get one
real permanence scared me
I’m the kind of person that changes her mind as often as she changes the colour of her nail polish
(nearly every day)
what a relevant metaphor; you were my untrue tattoo

when I loved you, I’d stay up really late wondering
if you were high or drunk again or ******* some pretty young girl
and when I got my chance, I’d kiss you til the windows of your
parked-in-the-middle-of-nowhere truck would steam up
what kind of love is that anyway?
it was a sport
an always-on-your-toes, merciless game
waiting to score
waiting to lose

but when I really loved you, none of it actually existed
it was just you and me and a long road of ******* ahead of us
it didn’t matter until it did
it came and left as it was
and love was as true as it could’ve been
we happened to each other
just because
samasati Nov 2013
I've been told
not to feel
if I can help it
not to deal
with pressing bothers
but they scrape at me like pernicious elves
with honed candy canes,
made spear-like to stick in my guts
and stay there

I've been told to
watch out!
time creeps up and then you're forty
love dries up and then you're forty
crisises emerge and the spear holds itself sturdy
and all you've known is to go numb;
when the spear comes,
go numb;
babies will **** on their thumbs
and you will go numb

I have a cat now
it came with the house I am renting
it's grey and it stares
into my soul like it knows there's a hole
and doesn't stop staring until I close my bedroom door
but it sits outside on the floor
meowing for more
scratching to be let in, to dig her nails in my skin
and tell me with those cunning eyes
*life's not out to get you
but it doesn't mean you won't hurt inside
it doesn't mean the hole in your soul
will be patched, mended or filled or made whole
anytime soon
and sometimes it's just too hard to get out of bed
before noon
but still, you should try or I'll scratch you, deep in
my nails are like spears and you don't know where else
they have been
I wrote this more as a spoken word; so feel free to read it aloud.
samasati Oct 2013
a womb. *****. an egg. curiosity. a man and woman that love each other. a man and woman that don’t know each other. a man and woman that kind of like each other but don’t want anything serious.

stupidity. a ripped ******. a missed birth control pill. bad fortune. good fortune. an in the moment decision. a premeditated decision. ***.

love-making. *******. pulling out. pre-*******.

old flames. new sparks. excitement in the private parts.

addiction. miscommunication. needing something to feel important. to have a purpose.

mothers and fathers. crack addicts and coke heads. teenagers.

impatience. anticipation. guilt for causing blue *****.

****. accidents. mistakes.

true love.
samasati Sep 2012
it’s windy
outside

it’s windy
inside

i gather
in my mind

that you and i
combined

is a tree
in the wind

skin touching
skin

a soul between
twins

the dimples
of a grin

the leaf and
the tige

the lips and
the teeth

like coffee
like tea

the birds
fly free

the song’s
sung true

i’m in love
with you

i gather
in my mind

that you and i
combined

is more than
meets the eye

with you
i feel more alive

than i can
describe
samasati Dec 2012
we never write as much when we are in love
and if we do write as much, we never write the same way
we get so much more boring
we could write a sad poem every day
and it would be much more interesting than an
everything-is-perfect poem
happiness has very little substance
have you ever noticed that most mainstream music is
aggressively depressing?
we write when there's something missing
or when we feel cold toward the world
and want to stick it to the man with a good 'ol *******
a writer in love will only produce a masterpiece if who they love
doesn't love them back
falling in love with someone that loves you back feels like having
everything you need
and there becomes no reason to write because there is no need to write
most people feel misunderstood when they're sad
and people only want to soak themselves in art if it makes them feel
understood
so, art has got to be sad too, hasn't it?
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
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
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

— The End —