the trouble is sleep doesn't ever seem to last long enough no matter how many hours are lost to its nothingness discarded willingly to the vague and the vacuous some might say for dream's sake but debate remains around the benefit relevance or reverence to be found in that logic waking up always brings with it a desire for more for a return to a form of non-being where presence and nullity have equal sway to be and not to be ego id superego free of interference from that backwards rationality of consciousness
With the hustling of leaves falling onto the ground and my hands used to the cold weather of Maple Street, the same sky where little strange souls like us meet—under the waves of clouds thickening our sight and our smiles splattered all over the place—remains.
I stirred my coffee, and you drank your now-cold chocolate drink. Your eyes carry the burdens of the stars and gravitate towards mine—I have been awake and alleviating the presence of old souls surrounding us, and I broke down. You embraced me like the classic song you are.
A lighthouse guarding travelers attempting to overcome the sea, I caught your hand and pressed it closer to my chest. Doors opened, unfolding a new chapter for us to climb higher than usual, and you looked at me like I used to look at you in pictures I keep for myself—lulling this young, brave soul to sleep in dull hours where you softly snore in a damp bed while the moon speaks in a softer tone to let you close your weary eyes and darkness begins to unfold within.
Sometimes it makes it harder to breathe the very same air you inhale—and these two young hearts live in another world, closer to home, and you held me, finally, the anchor I once dreamed of, and now your presence I could see—your skin I could be comfortable with.
They talk for a new day But the Sun has already extinguished And he's lost in an unidentified darkness Where the Moon is present But doesn't accompany him at all...
And those twinkling Stars Seems nothing more than his fading heart Yet he's crawling along that dark path In the little hope of a new Moon's ray But he's unknown that a distance of 3,84,400 Km gapping them apart...
Again in that blank darkness He sees some rays but this time Red Unaware of the danger, he continues to step ahead... They tell him to bridge the gap between him and the Moon But he's burning down all of the Bridges And thinks, he's going to build something new...
But it's just a thought, so, he decides to recall, all the things... Before he prepares himself to see his own downfall..!
Let me say that things are strange, I am a strange man in a strange world. I am barely here, A Wraith Seen only in reflection Moving in shadows Seldom acknowledged Yet sentient. Are you there? Can you hear me? My invisible form wishes to be seen. My existence justified only by function. "Love me... Like me... Hear me..." I say without sound. How can I manifest in this world?
All those little trinkets, bracelets, rings and even a boombox, that he had others bring to me, They were all stolen goods that vexed people would come and claim back from me time after time. I never had the heart to tell him to stop. He reminded me too much of a stray cat who’d finally found a temporary home where he would bring tributes to his mistress feet.
When I asked him what he was doing sleeping outside my front door. He blushed and mumbled, that he would protect me from bad guys who could break in and steal me away. How crazy and scary of a notion was that? And yet.... He made me think of a dancing bear who finally could scent freedom without chains.
The day when they came to take him away. ... I tried to tell them that he would never hurt me. That he merely collected broken shards of scattered treasures that deep inside him spoke about who he really was, before the drugs castrated his future self. Later... When going through the rubble he left behind, I found the glimmer of a hauberk forged for an Avalonian knight.
I'm a "soul whisperer" meaning that I'd rather speak with people whom I can identify some kind of sincerity from. Some broken spirits I have met in life, I do strongly believe they were the voices of Heaven.
when we fall deep into the never-ending abyss where biting, caustic words nip at our shoulders, we forget how to ward them off, but we can. we can with these ingredients: - aloe vera infused with compassion to nurse the acidic sting of those words, - honey that sticks to toxic atoms, protecting us from further damage, - a flame to remind us of our humanity so we can join with **** sapiens across time, - and coffee to give us presence of mind to stay in this very moment. We can take what we need, whenever we need it.
Escapril Day 8! Prompt: ________________ as medicine. I was inspired by self-compassion research (especially Kristen Neff's research). I hope you enjoy this poem!