night comes with waves of perfume the trance of flowers is quiet and only the winds can touch the secret of trees, still sleeping under the apple trees gives one deeper dreams when darkness hunts me I remember your empty hands against the form of light how you struggle to find the archaic tune the chronicles of the invisible unfolding my mind recycles thought from sprout to seed the vesper bell plunges the crickets, the roundness of the heart deeper into the hour of the dark
I am a prisoner of thoughts, Fighting invisible battles every day, Some days I win and some days I lose, But I put up a good fight, I give it all in! My head is in chaos, voices of surrender, I close my eyes and call out to my saviour.. He doesn't disappoint!
Facing wind with a hefty amount of risk mixed with intoxication adorning my head with an imaginary crown in place of where nonexistent helmet should be
Drunk not on alcohol Instead from the countless tears formed by self-hatred Soul-boiling Hot liquid bubbling over edges of my eyelids
I hope we find our way We travel without light guiding our direction Two insignificant nomads blindly navigating this vast existential void Attempting to reach sort of adequate destination before time reaches us Held together by fingers and an invisible magnetism more powerful than the unknown forces pulling and prodding around us at all angles And led forward by our hearts
I’m the space between light and shadow The dimness just beyond the headlights I’m the silver lining of a storm cloud The pause after crescendo The top of the rollercoaster, just before the drop
I’m the hum between beat and rhythm The echo in the valley And the wake of the ship The air that moves between hummingbirds’ wings The scent of gardenias on the night air The wet sand that makes castles but clings to your feet and never leaves the lining of your swimsuit so you never forget that day at the beach.
Someday you may spot me in the background Shield your eyes against the floodlights and peer into the urgent quiet at stage left You’ll hear the scribbling of last minute changes; And know that: I’m that improvised line on everyone’s mind at the end of the night.
The essence of a memory You can’t quite place Christmas mornings Summer jobs The undertones of a complex wine The elusive je ne sais quoi That sends you back to the food stall With no name On the corner of that park We used to love to cut through On the way back from grandma’s.
You’ll recognize me In the dying applause Bonfire smoke on the morning air The late afternoon breeze that reminds you to pick your kid up from school The coolness of a glass of water after the first rain of the season The third chew of an intensely flavourful bite of food The stubble on his chin in the morning Music at a wake Bourbon at her graduation Coffee in a hospital waiting room
I am the crease of your forehead between tears and laughter The glowing ember of a discarded matchstick I am the space Between footsteps And words And silent chants Between your hands When you fold them And hold them And raise them up To touch the sky And lower them down To return to earth
I am the space between Light and Shadow Between earth and sky When you need me, I’ll be there. Even if you don’t know it.
Things are not going in the right direction, nowadays I wake up and begin to think a lot of things and end the day with the same thoughts I'm going through various phases these days that I don't know how to explain And I don't want to express them either... Happiness has been something that I can clearly see but can't feel I see people laughing and cheering around me, but that seems so artificial...
Now I abstain from being a part of those social groups Where the use of the “F” word makes you cool and gives you a certificate for your confidence But I don't blame them, Perhaps it's me only who lacks something Something that makes me feel alienated in the crowd Every day I feel like a glass broken by several strokes of a hammer But I collect myself again... just to witness the pain of those invisible scars...
Writing gives me peace of mind, but these days I avoid writing down the things Not because I'm lacking inspiration or something, but I'm afraid Afraid of the same words that used to heal me before but now haunt my peanut brain every now and then The words I used to put life in are now attempting to shape my entire life... I'm feeling like that caged bird who can't fly even after being freed Because she's got the false notion that she has no wings, perhaps the same notion I'm getting too.
I have to express a lot of things... might share them in the next part! Anyway, I'm back here again... will try to interact more often now.