I sip on my green tea wishing for it to cleanse me. Wishing for it, to cleanse out the oils and the misery I consume. Wishing for it to break down my toxins. Wishing for it ... to cleanse the sections of myself that even I cannot reach.
A substance that supposedly detoxes the belly, but not strong enough to detox the soul
Not strong enough to take away my shadows, my doubt, my ego or my woes. A drink, not strong enough to hug my spirit at its loneliest hours. Yet, I sip .. praying the wet herbs that tickle my tongue shall unlock the gateway, or the path, or the door... to my soul.
Just hours since I learned of the great fall my childhood enemy has taken. My heart is shaken in internal squall. Yet still, there is joy which I partake in
Why feel guilt at such a time, so long sought? When others still roam the alleys of night; our nightmare meetings still frequent and fraught. The terror still real in the broad daylight.
I have been, largely, where she has now stood. I have ground teeth on the obloquy. I can’t rejoice now, though I wish I could **** this infernal anisotropy!
And yet anger smolders at the pylons; burning bridges and lashing at icons.
A few still remain but I never believed even this much justice could be had. I've learned late of this but it is still hard to decide how I feel about it. I certainly never expected to feel anything but contempt for this person but I can't help but to remember much of what they probably experienced. It's almost like reliving it and impossible to enjoy without unease.
Bite into an apple It tastes like am orange should This is confusion.
Hey, I actually kinda managed to write a haiku. I'm proud of this. This is inspired by the way I describe my confusion with calculus. It is as follows: ascribe all the visual and physical properties of an apple to something. It would then follow that since it looks like an apple AND it feels like an apple, that this is an apple and should taste like an apple. But what if it tasted like an orange while still seemingly being an apple? This would cause quite the spat of cognitive dissonance. This is my ****.
My mind is at war with itself. Neither side willing to give an inch to the other.
"It's like 2 sides Of the same coin"
Is that what you think? Is that what you say?
Well flip that **** coin already, Tell me how this all plays out. Take me from this constant ****.
Oh look, it's landed on its edge. Balancing precariously in the middle, just like me.
Now tuck me back into bed, I guess I'll just sleep forever In this haunting nightmare.
I have a small notebook. I write all my poetry and thoughts here before I do it anywhere else. I write it with the ultra fine tip of a black sharpie. If you open one side of my notebook, all you'll read are happy poems, poems filled with love and joy and hope. But open the other side, and you'll see the results of all that hope, all that love, and all that joy. I know life has its ups and downs but they feel so extreme.
I ask myself “who am I?", I wait for a reply. I hear my thoughts rambling, I here myself say “Why?” Why do I see myself as I do, in fact, what do I actually see? I realise after all this time, my thoughts have been taking over me.
If I step back and think about each time I have found myself in despair, I never really realised, it was a thought that took me there.
Thinking makes us something, it’s the one thing that sets us apart; a thought leading to happiness, or a broken heart.
What will your thoughts be today, knowing what you know?; A single thought, leads to many others, *we reap what we sow.