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Jana Pelzom Feb 17
A worm, it fell
As I opened the toilet door,
I ignored the unease,
Mind hinged to the floor;
Do worms fall every time
When I try to be of the open sort?
Shadows distract  
So I look up into the mirror;
A disoriented figure
Looks back and smirks,
**** it, it reasons,
You must save yourself,
You’ll regret it
If it finds your ears;
**** it, else be in constant fear,
Look away,
Muffled, the voices subside;
The madness that haunts
And tells me of watchful eyes,
Of my helplessness
And how I can but only toe the line;
Why did I think that,
Is there any reprieve?
The breath that stutters out—
A faint missed beat,
Doubts of existence
And of very thought,
For no reason does it exist,
It simply taunts
And then disappears.
Ataraxia ©️ 2021 Jana Pelzom

Every time I try to do something, I wonder why I do it. The perpetual question of whether we are who we are because of what we do and decide, or if everything if already predestined. I believe in karma and more, but if everything is as it should be why do I struggle with life, more precisely, why do I bother. Constantly searching for freedom from dissonance/fears, oscillating between ataraxia and dread.
Allesha Eman Dec 2020
In the fabric of time exists
moonlit seas of happenstance
and rose-scented memories
sewed in with golden beads
but it seems to me that life has found a way,
to sew in worn-out frayed threads,
that have lost their silky reflection

yet you,
with your resilient skin
found a way to make
embroidered mosaics of colour
out of the dissonance between good and bad
Kelly Mistry Oct 2020
Restoration
Rebuilding
Reshaping

Filling in the fissures that have opened up
Between us
Within us

Fissures can become canyons
Sometimes suddenly
With a great roar of sound and cloud of dust
Sometimes gradually
Worn away by a river of neglect and dismissal

Both sides carry these fissures within
Wounds that can fester

How do we close these gaps?
Between us
Within us

First both must see
Acknowledge
Desire to heal

But there are no guarantees

Rebuilding relationships
Righting wrongs
Seeking and offering forgiveness

None of this can be done alone
Without community
In a vacuum

Sometimes the fissures become scars
Calcified and brittle
Painful when poked but otherwise unnoticed

The wound may heal over
But the fissure may never
Completely
Close
Kelly Mistry Aug 2020
As I approach the edge
Of awareness
Danger flashes!
A veil of flame
You risk burning fingers here

Pain
Confusion
Shame
Guilt
Crushed by the weight of the past

Once invisible worlds that shimmer
Just out of focus
Beyond the veil

What draws me near?
Why do I risk burning?

I have not always felt the lie so clearly
But as I learn and explore my world
The shallowness of my existence has been plumbed
Found wanting

It doesn’t match the world that others see

To see their worlds
I must
Walk through the fiery veil
        To connect
        To love
        To fit the pieces of their worlds and mine together

Now I pity those I was once like
Trapped in their small worlds
Blinded eyes
Plugged ears
Wrapped in cotton

They don’t know what they don’t know
But a part of me knew
A part of them knows
And mourns

For the world that waits for them
Beyond the veil
Thinking about how I, as a white person, have benefited from doing anti-racist work; a big thing is relieving the cognitive dissonance that comes from your perspective of the world being frequently in conflict with non-white people, especially distressing and confusing when its in conflict with friends and family
stargazer Apr 2020
i play a song
full of dissonant chords
but i won't stop
until the last note

because maybe
someone needs to hear a song
i can't hang on for me anymore.

but i'll hang on for you <3

04.08.2020
Juhlhaus Oct 2019
At the brink of worlds I could
Hear hammer blows on coffin wood
Drink headline ink 'til doomsday falls
Taste newsprint paste on gray cell walls
Fissures deep in split flesh stung
With gritted teeth and muted tongue
Where endings chewed in unplacid fever
Slake only the fat of the world-eaters
All worlds end.
There is so little left,
And still much i need to question.
So untrusting of what i can see, hear or touch,
My senses fooled a thousand times and a thousand times again.

Hardened fortifications blossom,
Bringing perpetual reinforcement.
Working for at least a respite,
From coyote hordes outdoors.

Odysseus waits at the gates,
Educated eyes identify his horses,
Staring straight through the belly of the beasts,
Thwarting threats before they take to action.

King in the learned castle,
To never be fooled again.
Entrenched deep in his defences,
Securing solace through his reclusion.

it is lonely on your own

There is so little left,
This gives forth the question,
so untrusting of what i see, hear, touch but feel?
Perhaps the fraud is mine.

Cynical battlements sprout,
With spores of harsh repairs.
Crusading for disenchantment,
Cry wolf and call coyote.

Teach to never looked beyond the gates,
Focus attention in,
Cowered behind walls and towers,
Forever fearful to lower the bridges.

Lord of what little is leftover,
If any is left at all,
Prisoner to himself,
Until he allow himself to leave.
ghost queen Sep 2019
it is what you most fear, your reoccurring nightmare, the thing you can not grasp, understand, that shorts your brain, that death is the end, there is no after life, no purpose to your existence, no just god sitting on a throne, dispensing justice, punishing the evil, rewarding the good. reality is too hard and harsh, you pray to god, is it true, you are more my creation than i am yours.

how do you reconcile the fact that you know so deep down inside is true. you lie to yourself, suppress the fear, repress the thoughts, ignore what you see with you own eyes. the fear rises, the anxiety worsens, the insomnia lengthens, you fall prey to cognitive dissonance. to understand is to forgive, the anger, the irrational behavior.

the idea that you are mortal is unbearable, that you will die, your flesh rot, and be forgotten. how any man can make sense of it and live, court, marry, have children, when the world has spun out of control, the three horses are here. the pale horse is coming, it will soon be time to die.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse
Hereshecomes Aug 2019
Murmurs on pillow
throbbing at temples
made of steel
by now.

Hear me out
I said
holding signs
visible to me
and to me
alone.

But silence
is a temptation I can’t resist
as the body trembles
at full throttle
to the beats of innocence

or is it
cognitive dissonance?
Ashley Mellinger Feb 2019
It’s easy for anyone to associate harmony with music.
I’m no exception.
I’ve been an alto since I learned how to sing,
Dedicating the past seven years to rhythmic consonance.
That’s not the case for what’s in my heart.
In fact, the past seven years,
I’ve felt at constant war with myself.
Ironic, coming from a pacifist.
I can’t love my neighbor as myself,
If I’ve never known that feeling.
I’ve been taught to despise
Every one of my imperfections,
Learned how to hide my flaws;
Nothing but perfection was accepted.
None of my friends know the depth of sadness,
The dark in my heart,
Or the intensity of my rage.
I don’t know who I am,
Or who I want to be.
Nothing about my emotional state
Sings like a four-part harmony.
Nothing goes together,
It’s all a mess,
Pointlessly swept under the carpet
And I hope against hope
No one is smart enough to look underneath.
I can’t write about peace
If I never seem to relax.
I can’t pretend I’m alright
When I stress over everything.
I’ve never known harmony
Outside of sheet music,
And I’m terrified I never will.
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