JS 1d

My heart is taken
By no one
that was so mistaken

It should be forever
Story like compound lever

My heart is taken
By you
every morning reawaken

Now I say whatever
Not happy end altogether

Through you
I learnt to be grounded,
as if the rhythm of the earth
depended on it.

I found a voice
buried in my heart,
that spoke
the poetry
of love.

Unami is a Nguni word/name that means 's/he is with me'.

now upon the faded ground there lies
one more feather

Peace, in the oneness of things.
S Renay May 18

Here on Earth I can feel the same way as someone who travelled millions of miles into the galaxy.
Except without seeing all of the neat space.

I hide in solitude to show myself in plain sight.
I dream so that I can create reality.
I crumble so that I can build up.
My quivering is your peace.
My leisure is your reach.

the silence is never silent;
there's always that ringing
in your ears
that forces you to just
and listen
to nothing.

but i think i needed this
not-silence, anyway.
i've been listening to music so constantly,
i think i might have
melted my mind
into further chaos,
i cannot

about anything other than
how nice the static solitude is,
to lie down
on this well-worn mattress
and just

hush, child
it's alright now.
i wish somebody would've told me that
when i were a little boy.
hush, child, shh
you'll be okay.
maybe it wouldn't have
turned into a lie
if it had just been said
in the first place

it's funny how
the silence and
the loneliness
used to kill me slowly, painfully
but now it's all i'm used to
and i need doses of it

5 AM thoughts. Bleed of consciousness. Terrible as usual.
My Type May 5

The pace of my fan.
The contours of my curtain.
The cracks on the side wall.
The tree that casts different shadows on my floor.
That creaking sound of my bed.
The smell of my bed sheets.
The reflection of the clock in my mirror.
The chip in my window’s glass pane.
The ray of the sun that peeks through it.
The rust on the edges of the doorknob.
The dust that’s collected on the suitcases.
The colours of the changing sky.
The still water in my glass.
The drop of tear that rolls down my cheek.
Are some things I know too well.
Are the only things that give me company.

13 May 5

I could get used to the silence.

The birds chirping, the bees buzzing, the leaves rustling…
Trivial treasures compared to the screaming isolation.
Louder than anything you’ll hear, quieter than nothing,
Lasting eternally until broken, emphatically.

I could get used to my breath, didn’t notice it before today.
I must have been dead this whole time.
Without a voice, bereft of noise,
That which only feels but never reveals.

I could get used to that.
I could get used to this.

Posted on March 25, 2015

just this
this is all i need
just this

orchestral symphony
my quiet solitude
cup of coffee

just this
none of that
just this

i don't
need you or
anyone else

just this
this is all i need
​​​​​​​just this

but i suppose i could also do with a break from you
Natalie May 4

My silence
was a comma
a pause
a breath
a period
a chance
to sum up
my thoughts
the indent
before a new
it was never
the last
vanilla flower
scented page
it was never
the end
my silence
was the binding
the pages

Next page