My dear, I am writing you from the depths of my solitude, to ease your worried heart and mind. Loneliness has been gnawing at my terrified flesh as of late. Yet, my only wish is to remain alone. Unseen and untouched. I think this is pure joy, or the illusion of it. But I am content at this very moment. I promise.
You might think that I am slowly sinking. That I will soon reach the bottom of the ocean, and you fear it is too dark and solitary there. That I might not survive my own madness— not this time, not by myself. That I cannot swim nor do I intend to learn. That I willingly gave my body to Poseidon as a peace offering. That I finally made my peace— not with God, but with a god nonetheless. That I am all swallowed up. That I will not see you again. That I will die lamenting your forgotten smile. That Azrael, the angel of death, weeps over my doom. That I have died long ago— But how can a corpse feel such emotions? How do I tell my stubborn heart that it is not beating for you any longer? How do I comfort my frantic soul by lulling it to an eternal sleep? —And if so then tell me, my dearest one, don’t I deserve serenity, too? After burning for a decade, yearning for a safe haven. Do you think I finally deserve to rest?
I have memories Of lying down in the backyard Of my childhood home Dressed in a hug Parka, snow bibs, and gloves a size too big The world had grown completely silent All my fears held back By a curtain of snowflakes
Sometimes when the world is too loud And everything is a little too much My mind will wander off To a snowy neighborhood At night In a small town
Often times this mental space holds only darkness All my developmental flaws Packed away in moving boxes Thick black smoke seeps between the cracks Of pristine cardboard and plastic Being loaded onto a truck A size too small
It’s funny That house never felt like a home But sometimes When the world was wrapped In a blanket of snow I felt peace and warmth Out in the cold
Written while discussing liminal space and safe haven. Where do you find moments of soul haven?
I was sixteen when the machines came. The letters “C-A-T” screamed at me from across the street As the harsh yellow tore at the roots of the Cherry trees across the street. Of course the orchard had never been mine, I had not planted the seeds and curated the Beautiful blooms through their short lives, Picked the cherries off the trees myself. But what about all the photoshoots I’d done Among the gorgeous white blooms, All the times my friend had walked through The rows of trees to get to my house and Left paint splatters of cherries across the kitchen floor, All the sunsets I’d seen through the leaves That made me nostalgic for things I had never experienced? What if I’m growing up and moving out And can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that These plants that have smiled at me from my Window for over a decade have returned To the Earth? What if these days the Weeks are crying when they should be glowing and The absence of trees is simply the target of One of those odd tricks that sorrow shoots out of the mind That remind me that change is the only thing that’s Permanent? I wish that the emptiness of the field could be replaced by Happy little white blooms But instead the CAT machines screech and moan And all I can feel is The ache of old nostalgia and the Peculiar nostalgia of the unknown.
a reworking of "I can now see beyond the cherry orchard" from almost two years ago! Time flies when you're having fun, right? :)
Through the desert I go straying further from haven in search of anew winds get harsher and even dryer I expect Fifteen nights are gone sixty is what I dream of on twenty-third the dates will run dry the hand of feeders will ashen before I get ready to accept
Won't let the beacon die light is expensive even more to run it Hunger doesn't **** me neither does thirst but hope certainly does
My father told me Someday I will die Fighting for new lands Show I have no fear the doors to the haven Will wait for no man
Found bit of last para online, wanted to use it. Haven't written in months
A world beyond the dreams of mortals, filled with passages and portals. A magical place, of hope and grace. The unreal is real, the real is unreal. A constantly turning wheel. A place I could only dream of, the spreading wings of a dove. The perfect place for all magic admirers, a space where my dreams burn like fire. But this such place, could it be true? A place I know, I knew. But this haven, it comes with a catch. For it bears a key and a latch. And now it can't even be found, the wild vines that bind it can't be unbound. Will I ever get to open the gate? Could I discover it, before it's too late? If I cannot my heart, my dreams, all will be shattered. And people will laugh, like it doesn't even matter.