I thought my emotions died,
but they were alive all along;
they all come scribbled out in a poem or in a song.
I thought I was fine,
but it was apparently lies.
The evidence were the tears escaping from my eyes.
I thought you were genuine,
But I found out it was fake.
Never realised I was someone you wanted to break.
Now, I think it is the end.
Do you think so too?
Hopefully,this is yet another thought
I'd prove myself not to be true.
He has hands in his minds eye
They cup around his thoughts as though
Cradling a delicate butterfly
Letting them pulsate and grow
Stroking, calming and soothing
Protecting them from harm and pain
All the while cunningly moving
To feel the advantage they might gain
Massaging fingers deeper still
Twisting words and planting seeds
Of doubt and paranoia at will
Remoulding truth and on him feeds
Off the resulting confusion
All the hurt and loss and fear
His mind now warped, an illusion
His face is drawn, his speech unclear
Then, as quickly as they clenched
The hands willingly unfold
And his mind is once more wrenched
Back to life, away from cold
And with his brain once more unchained
He chats and jokes and reads and laughs
But the hands, they still remain
At any moment poised to clasp
Around the mass of thoughts so tight
They crush the tiny butterfly
Before he is able to take his flight
And he will
Sat playing Glass’s Metamorphosis,
between the notes I heard
a subtle whisper,
dexterous, encoded, sinister.
’Twas my left hand talking to my right:
“You believe that beauty
is to be found in the melody.
But she’s here in my stability,
here on the ground.
For when its delight excites you,
you need me, darling,
though your speeding up is slight,
to slow you up and down
as you kiss the keys
and penetrate the black and white.
I am the beating heart,
you are the racing mind,
fall down into me,
What light doth yonder window break?
It panes me; to stay and wait
Madness, Madness. Cold and Cruel
Leaving us all Jesters and Fools.
Insanity and Vanity
Our tools of trade.
Do you see what lovely little scars they make?
Perplexing and Vexing
A scattered picture makes.
For who can tell what is real, and what is fake.
Splattered and Slathered
The Mind unveils
Leaving all the ponder it's tales.
Who can tell truth from lie?
Who decides whether they live or die?
Judge, Jury, and Executioner alike
Have all seemingly gone on strike.
The Mind, a kaleidoscope of lies
Nicking and Picking
Fixating and Hating
Obsessing and Testing
Creating and Saving
What Truth is lying within a lie?
That so encaptures and invests our Mind?
What is the difference between truth, fib, and lie?
Perhaps Songbird, Raven, and Vulture will suffice.
What is the body,
but a pile of meat?
seeking only to eat?
What makes us human,
what makes us strong?
What is it that pulls us along?
Do we have a soul?
Or just a mind?
Do we have an identity,
beyond what we can define?
What exactly lasts,
what thing underlies,
our very existence,
whose meaning is undefined?
Some call it "soul",
others simply "mind,
yet there are others,
who call it not "mine".
The first sees an eventual, heavenly life,
borne from the sacrifice of a holy Christ,
or the forgiveness and judgement of a heavenly being,
or the results of past actions, coming into being.
The second sees the mind,
a product of the brain.
No different from nature,
which never ceases or begins.
Having existed since beginningless time,
what comes to be, eventually declines,
and one is returned, to the darkness underlined.
The 3rd is one, who does not distinguish,
he sees the body and mind,
not as one who would wish,
for a lasting identity, or an eternal peace,
nor does he see it, as one who just is.
Instead he sees things, unlikely as it may,
the aggregates of consciousness and body, clear as day.
He does not deceive himself, thinking of meaning,
nor does he lie, thinking himself as "body".
He separates the speculation of a soulless man,
as he does the thought of a mind separate from man.
He overcomes the dualities which we normally comprehend,
With a sight that sees, what is simply at hand.
The truth that this body, its aggregates and mind,
are all but products of our imaginary mind,
which projects and creates,
in an endless thought-pattern,
a speculation that is ceaseless,
an identity to be had.
Instead he deconstructs,
he sees the body as it is,
an aggregate of thoughts, perceptions and things.
He overcomes the idea of "suffering" that exists,
and does not cling to the idea of "pleasure" for bliss.
He rests in the nature that is rightfully so,
not overthinking, whether he has a soul.
Because such things, are deceptions coming to be,
by the ever-thinking mind, always deceiving thee.
I don't know what it is
that shackles my ankles and my arms and my heart to the bed
that every time I have to get up I feel like I leave a piece of me behind
that every time I see sunlight I can feel weight on me
and maybe things are okay
no rain taps on my windows
no shouting is heard through the walls
no devastating stories are to be heard
and the clunky shoes are not so bad today
and my jacket is freshly washed and warm
and everything is in its place
and the radio plays all the good songs
nothing is really wrong
and yet it is 8am and all I feel is the cold bite of the airconditioning and fear
fear that I can go wrong and all eyes will be on me
fear that they will be overly confident in who I am that they forget that I am human
fear that I have to keep this smile on for long
and yet it is 1pm and all I want is a hand to hold
so instead I write down my remaining notes
I try to pretend my life is put together
highlighting important words in my too-new planner
and yet it is 3pm and I try to lull myself to sleep
saying goodbye to who I'm talking to because it's only polite
listening to songs I know too well
trying to find a way to drown the scratchy lines in my mind
it is dark when I wake up
and I feel more exhausted than before
and there are messages for me waiting
and yet I don't answer them at all
I pull myself up and I stare at your name
it has been a while since we really talked
I don't want to start anything
since the last time, we only lasted for mere minutes
and I don't know how to handle losing the only one who really knew me
I don't know how many times I have tried and failed with you
but I know how you talk to people
and I know that you don't want to talk to me
dinner is not much better
they question the things I do and the places I go
so how can I explain
that I don't want to stay here
and be given the chance to be alone
they say that I can easily pass the exam
they say that I can do these things for sure
when I know that I will be lost there
and be the very first one to disappoint
and people keep saying hi
how are you?
and I am tempted to tell them
but decide not to burden them with my darkness
I appreciate who they are
I appreciate the fact that they care
I love them for trying to connect with me
I love them for thinking about me, even for a moment
but why is it
that every time I tell them I'm doing better
I cry even more?
and it's 8:15pm and nothing is helping
not the jokes or the songs or the video clips
all I can think is how easy it could be to go
all I wonder is about who might notice first
if I fall from the graces of a heaven on earth
my everything crushing who I was
if I let my emptiness be filled with water instead
my words sinking with me
I told myself I wouldn't do that
I told myself I would never let myself get to that
yet here I am
my insides ripped out
the light I once knew gone
how can I tell people
that I hold hands because I am scared
needing to have someone to hold onto
needing to be reassured that they are there
how can I tell people
that I want to be held
held in the silence of all the words I forgot how to say
held despite of how I crumble
because I know that everything comes and goes
and yet this feeling has never left
and I don't know how to answer the question
are you okay?
when I don't know if anyone can hear my whispered
I'm not okay
and I don't know when I'll be.
My mind shapes the reality my hands cant create and my patience is the underlying separation that lies between me and what my eyes can't see.
My curled fingertips gradually paints the air with my emotions ever so silently
So my ears can't hear the pain and suffering my heart can't stand.
My feet lie beneath my stiff body standing strong because it knows I am too.
Only waiting for a moment to pass.
But the only thing that comes to mind is you.
A long time has passed until the past had me tied up in the grass.
Watching the stars as if we had to leave the earth the very next night.
I felt as your love distracted my mouth so you can shove your soft smile into my eyes.
I want to seduce your heart with a hand full of tree parts so you
know I'm rooted.
Show you a sky so blue so you know how long I last.
I just wanna feel.
Feel your smile.
Spark a match in my rusty tool shed, so I know I'm trapped.
And with the door unlocked ill be guided to where I can use the tools I know I have
To build you my mind.
I feel the rush that creeps inside.
Taking my body for a joyride, instead, I'd rather hide.
Defeat seems to be my greatest escape.
This piano song made me think of you.
Baby, I wanna ride your sweet waves of love and feel your electric sounds show me what its like to get hit by lightning
I know sometimes it's frightening, letting loose from the seat belt that broke into a million jokes about sex.
Your complexion is standing tall with an erected smile, but baby I won't tell you to freeze.
Don't freeze that smile.
Because I wanna kiss that mouth for a while.