If you’re sad; let it tell you what you lack, what you yearn for but are disconnected from.

If you’re afraid; let it tell you what you evade, what you need to confront and forgive yourself for.

If you’re mad; let it tell you what boundaries in you have been crossed, what aspects of you have been left invalidated.

If you’re happy; let it tell you who you are — outside the blockages of time and space.

And if you feel a burst of sensitivity; express it in art.

*Express it in art.

I have this voice inside of me which drives me to despair;
Even after every effort made — it still berates beyond repair.

I have this voice inside of me, it screams, it kicks, it yells;
Even as I lay in perfect silence, it commands from tortured hells.

I have this voice inside of me, it has multiplied beyond belief;
I see it lies in all I’ve met — proceeds in everyone — without relief.

I have this voice inside of me, one which came from you;
All the lies you ever told me — they grew, they grew, they grew...

I have a mind inside of me, it haunts me through and through;
If I should ever die by my own hand, it spoke to me, through you.

...

I know of parts inside of me, at first I couldn’t distinguish the two;
One from me and one from you, one was false and another, true.

...

Another part inside of me, seeks to end your reign;
Perhaps by then, I will be governed by silence, perhaps by then, it won’t have to be feigned.

Another part inside of me, pleads for a higher path,
It pleads for me to surface, all in the wake of your aftermath.

...

I feel a beating within me, which yearns to live and grow,
*Even in the screams and contractions, a substance beneath me flows.

Once a stranger, now a "mother" had given birth to *a daughter —
A daughter, unknown, untouched like a stranger —
A stranger to the world and all that was known —
All that was known was duplicated thereafter —
Thereafter, duplicated by all those she encountered —
Encountered by all those who had been duplicated —
Duplicated in a world full of knowledge —
Knowledge, that had been corrupted —
Corrupted by those who had pretended in fear —
Fear planted by the world and, mother and father —
Father was so-and-so —
So now, let’s be so-and-so —
And so, on-and-on; the chain continues —
Continues until another mother gives birth to a daughter —
A daughter, gives birth to another daughter —
Another daughter gives birth to another —
Another, unknown, once a stranger —

My past is like a stain that paints each new place, and face.

A mind which seeks release and an essence that continues to cease.

'Tis a burden resting within my body, disallowing any newfound story.

"Dusty dialogues, foggy monologues."

Sentences strewn about and borrowed, without much doubt.

Quotations so seemingly true, I resort to attaching myself to more than a few.

Spirals in which I continue; imprisoned words I need to see through.

It was hard for me not to make a home in you
In trust your arms would stay
It was hard, I say —
For me to not mould my body to yours
In relief, that its warmth would not stray

I have often wondered why it is that I exist, why, even after prolonged pleas to **** me in my sleep – you allow me to wake to a barrage of thoughts.

I don’t really know my purpose for being here. Why all the pain exists. Why I was born to my parents, my own race. I do not know much. Sometimes I feel myself going mad from not knowing anything.

I guess I yearn to know so much because I fear this uncertainty, this lack of safety I’ve always seem to have felt in this world.

I wish I knew. I wish that you would talk to me sometimes. I guess what I wish for is some comfort – that somehow, there is a meaning to this madness, a meaning for my life, a purpose for existing.

I can’t seem to fool myself into believing anything transient for too long. When I cling onto something unreal, unstable – it gets taken away from me, and all I am left with is, nothing. Intense pain soon arises.

Sometimes you know I feel so depressed. So out of touch with you – as Osho would say.

My heart yearns so much to know itself; but it constantly breaks out of confusion and disconnection.

Atnight I shrink to my father and fear…with closedeyes…my thoughts appear and disappear….in perpetualfog…oneminute, I am ugly…another, lazy…then, an unworthy, helpless, hopeless, heap…hunchedover…and in pain…with arms poised to protect…body contorted to distort…but whatever I clingto…and all I resist..u-n-f-o-l-d-s  i-n  d-a-y,  w-h-e-n  m-y  e-y-e-s  t-h-a-­t  s-t-r-a-i-n  s-e-a-m-l-e-s-s-l-y  o----p----e----n