"dissipated" poems
Though the first carried more miles, the second day of the hike was totally and unapologetically uphill.
When you ascend, hiking becomes the zen of endurance.
First, you are stripped of all the pleasures of hiking. Your excitement is boiled into lactic acid. Your love for the trail is baked, hardened and dehydrated into thoughts of laying down in the sun until the heat shrivels you into an unconscious raisin.
Try as you may to put on your “isn’t hiking just a slice of heaven?” face, strangers passing you on the downhill stride can only see your “PLEASE GOD, HELP ME OR ******* **** ME” face.
As much as hiking really is a small slice of heaven, there is no denying the living-death of taking 10 straight miles to the knees under the chaffing hell of a 50 pound sack in the relentless sun.
But when you’re back in an office, sitting on your cushy little ergonomic chair, you long for the sweat and the torture that forces your mind to the ankle deathtraps of mountain terrain. To the deep valley behind and below you, and the crystal basin at the foot of the granite Giants.
The worst thing you can do is ignore the pain—that makes it relentless. Instead you focus on the pain until you become it. The only thing left is the moment between each step, when you remember why you are here and what it is worth. Every time your foot touches dirt, it leaves twice the footprint. One on the mountain and another in your memory where you will safeguard the misery of your ascent and hold on for dear life. One day, when your knees are too weak and your body can no longer table your pack, all the pleasures and joys of the trail that you once thought dissipated in the steam of uphill toil will come rushing back with the magnified strength of every year between you and the present you once knew and respected enough to actually live.
And if you didn’t, if you let it only be pain to get through and not to focus or dwell on, then that is what it is and will always be. A dull memory of pain, dark and somber and incomplete.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Life is like a series of storm clouds waiting to pass.
You can predict where they're coming from and when they'll be here.
But when the time comes it is quite a surprise because your storm cloud still has yet to arise.
You may not be aware of what the cause was, but when the lightning hits you are immediately in a state of hysteria.
The storm is continuous and once you're in the eye, you think the pain of whatever it was has dissipated into the dark sky.
Little did you know that that was just the beginning of a series of storm clouds that are still winning.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
when we met across those sands of centuries
slowly ebbing their way as we embraced
our eyes so sublime in the fullness of meetings
I was holding my dreams and nightmares
in either hand but you never noticed when
out those experiences I added you to my dreams
because your presence dissipated all my nightmares
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:28 PM UTC
I sat by his bedside the day my father died.
The cancer that had riddled his body and soul now had complete control.
He fought kicking and screaming
the night the men in white came to take him on his final journey
like a great wildebeest struggling to get up on its front legs after being taken down by young lions. The way so many had said he
probably would since he fought his way tooth & nail throughout his life from the very beginning.
That night I sat on a chair at the foot of his bed staring out the huge ceiling to floor window of the medical centre at the many worlds hidden beneath thousands of rows of stationary lights and fluid winding rows of transient lights in-between and thought how the light of this window is just one of many thousands.
At that moment it seemed more like just one tiny speck in the vast star fields worlds above this city of light.
My father had spent most of his life just a short six-mile drive from here under the scattered lights of his hometown.
He turned to me and asked,
“That’s a big city. Where are we?"
Dementia had claimed his mind ten or more years earlier. It
slowly wound its way around his brain like a cocky snake
handler being choked by a boa constrictor unawares.
It seemed like it all caught up to his body. But it was good to see much of the bitterness and bad blood between us dissipated over the past decade.
On that night compassion ruled the day.
I could not say it then but it has been many years, where it seems compassion has forged with objectivity.
In a lucid moment he looked around the hospital room
bewildered as if he were a little boy who just woke up from a bad dream and asked,
“How did this ever happen?"
If only I could have told him.
Sometimes the truth cannot be spoken or heard. All I could do then was sit by his bed and lean in close to his ear and sing softly his favourite hymns.
By morning his lifeless
dilapidated body laid in the fetal position. His once ravenous mouth now forever frozen looked like a knothole in a twisted cedar tree.
All I can do now is hang my head and think of how weak and frail we humans truly are.
Like compassion forged with objectivity, weakness and frailty forges with fleeting moments of strength. We forge heroes out of these moments to tower above
the pedestals the former is made of to somehow minimize the pain of this often denied truth.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 11:40 AM UTC
We wrote our names in the sand.
The gentle rain began to grace the
shores with its mysterious beauty
as its delicate droplets fell
slowly
from the heavens high above.
The sun's rays refracted
against the glistening waters,
and the rain dissipated
when it came in contact
with the smooth surface of the ocean blue.
Crystal clear streaming drops continued
making their way to the waves,
but soon their gentle graces grew
into pounding pours.
The lightning came without warning.
The sun hid behind the dark clouds.
The tides began to toss and turn,
and the waves crashed against the sand,
washing away our names
until all that was left was
the sand, the waves, the lightning
and the rain.
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 2:10 AM UTC
This nebulous life is like a puzzle dissipated,
When you can't comprehend what's real, fake, clear, or faded.
Clueless, mystified, seeking inspiration,
Meaningless alliteration,
Inadequate concentration,
Diligence and dedication,
What I need is a vacation.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 6:49 PM UTC
I don’t know when but one day past,
I preserved our love so it would last.
Jars of cherries and pears line the case
Our love hidden in its secret place.
Over time the room grew musty,
I used the pears and cherries thusly,
I left the room dim and quiet
Then soon forgot what I left inside it.
After weeks or months or years,
I find myself searching again in here.
I’ve forgotten what I lost,
But I will find it at any cost.
In a nook, I spot a single jar
Hidden in dust as thick as tar,
I approach it slowly without fear
Recalling now what I stored here.
I wiped the grunge and twisted the cap
Stopped a moment, taken aback.
Our love escaped and dissipated
I grab the air as if to save it.
I throw the grimy jar to the ground,
Burn it to guarantee it won’t be found.
I close the room and turn the lock,
My wooden heart begins to knock.
I light a match and don’t look back
Gasoline drowns the past.
The pears and cherries are now homeless
Thrown to the street without notice.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
Early.
I became the bottom of a shoe. Worthless, unwarranted, but there, needed.
Rubber and worn, worn away to the thinnest part, and still used.
Hands became words, and hugs became extinct, tears became invisible, the 'childhood' was erased.
Diabetes became my mother, known as rejection, and depression, her twin, known as rage.
Insulin and Fluoxetine became my equally demanding toddlers; I was feeding a family of 6 at the age of 8.
Later.
I watched my brother become a tortured child, in his sleep - the sound of his waterproof sheets would keep me awake, as i lay worried that his screams were words he could not utter at his age.
I watched my sister grow cold as she watch her house burning down around her, and crying tears at the loss of her childhood, her eyes burned at me.
As i looked in the mirror, when i cried, i would flush the toilet just to hear what it feels like to be washed away.
Disappeared down the drain.
I shrunk 4 inches in 4 years, one inch for each bottle of poison, that said 'drink me'.
I shrunk 4 inches in another 4 years for every word that said 'eat me'.
I shrunk so that I could not grow, up.
Later still.
I became broken, hard to 'fix'.
I became lost, without a cause.
I became the rebel, odd-one-out.
Family grew fractured, broken mirrors lay on all our floors, that we skirted around, lest we should bled it all out, what had happened.
Relationships broke, one after another, after, another, after, another, after....
Faces lost feeling, words became laws, feelings became problems, love became, raw and unused.
We dissipated, dissolved, into a million pieces of broken, into the world, held together by very thin words of 'family'
Now.
I am not a child anymore.
It's time to be heard.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
The yellow, early evening sun feels heavy and warm on my legs.
Like a cat curled up to enjoy a small nap,
It rests on my pink and rainbow blanket.
My mother snores in the old blue chair next to me,
******* in worry and exhaustion and the scent of basil,
Oblivious to the small-town sounds of birds and cars and children playing,
Unaware that her daughter is something she claims to not understand.
"Pansexuality, honestly, just sounds
Horrible,"
She had told me.
"I don't understand pansexuality and gender-fluid and stuff,"
She said,
The car sliding smoothly over the highway under grey skies.
I tried to explain, but I was swamped in
Confusion.
"Well...there are more than two genders, like being gender-fluid and agendered and bi-gendered and third-gendered......
And pansexual people like all of those genders."
"That's what I can't understand. I mean, I kinda get the concept, but..." Her voice trails away like blue cigarette smoke, still deadly even after it has dissipated into the clouds.
I feel like I'm choking on it, raw pink lungs tightening and swelling, forcing yellow stars before my eyes,
Not able to explain the way
I don't care what you identify as,
I only care about love.
My mother's grandmother didn't know that non-straight people existed.
My mother's mother didn't know that bisexual people existed.
My mother doesn't believe that more than two genders exist,
Or know that I find all of them attractive.
But she had already dropped the subject,
Instead filling the awkward lull with discussions of
Colleges and books she's reading and and what my younger sister is doing in school.
I could feel my soul bubbling up behind my lips,
Pink and yellow and blue,
I wanted to tell her to stop and listen.
I wanted to tell her to be quiet,
And to be accepting,
And to try to understand.
I wanted to tell her
'I'm pansexual.
There.
Now you know.
Would you have said that it was horrible and that you can't understand?
That, in essence, I am horrible and you can't understand me?'
But I didn't.
I sat, the warm sticky grey leather under my thighs
The same as the warm, sticky grey clouds,
The yellow sun just peeking out into blue skies beyond the pale pink dogwoods.
She wakes up, warm sticky breath catching in her chest
As she opens her eyes.
She mumbles quietly about oversleeping
Before she rushes out the door,
Leaving behind a daughter
She thinks she knows,
As she claims to not understand
My label
That I have hidden inside my closet door,
Next to my pink, yellow, blue scarves.
Maybe tomorrow I'll put it on,
Pin my heart to my sleeve,
Wear my colors proudly.
But not today.
Never today.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
I thought we were so similar but now I see the difference
You want peace and friendship
While I want nothing
You constantly make attempts
To rebuild a scrap of friendship from the fragile bond I set a flame
To re kindle a candle but hide it from inferno
To delete the awkwardness and hit undo to before
But I don't care
And that's what scares me
I thought I almost loved you
But like that I'm ready to go
I want to move on
To hop in a car and drive away from the dust that's choking me
Despite our bond the fire is done and I don't need to clean the ashes because the bond was severed and the scraps of love burned too.
I thought we could be sisters
The others called you that
To me you were still a friend
But perhaps you were more than that
But with your double edged sword you stabbed our strings
And cut out our hearts
The others will still talk to you
Worry and cry
Still save you from danger
Because you are thise sister
But to me you are gone
An empty shell
And any love I felt dissipated into the air
To see you killed and walk away
Would no longer phase me
All I think of you is hate
No r eminence of emotion
I thought you were a friend
We were never sisters
But you were always there for me
Someone to talk to about the light things
I couldnt discuss the pain but at least your voice could lift my hidden sorrow
But then I was ripped away
Pulled from you and my sisters
But somehow I forgot
To miss you too much
I lived my life
Forgot to call
Simply acted as though
You didn't exist at all
What ever love I felt for you
I learned to live without
And simply forgot
About the emotion I used to feel
When our times were more real.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
dissipated and disillusioned worms eating through the last splinters of the rotting universal wood.
the last transmission of regret sent electronically, spluttered,
into a tissue; in a moment of self indulgent **********
live showings of vicious execution, transmitted directly from the electromagnetic waves into the alpha waves of the young and naive. Desensitization, the last drops of humanity into complete disengagement.
endlessly recycled bohemian ideologies whispered into the ear of the eager idealist. spreading like fire, before burning out into the uncatchable reverie up with the stars, with all the other reveries, shining bright, intangible.
Instant dismissal from the old man, as the big curtain draws. Cynicism and fragmented past, falling on apathetic eyes, a proud man treat with a padded hand. faux sympathetic tones, blushing cheeks on old bones.
Begging with your body crumbling to dust with the disinterested doc, looking at the clock counting the milliseconds to the paycheck. Decomposing until you can be swept under the perpetual rug with the rest, Vacuum.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
My ink bleeds when I give words to your silence.
My ink bleeds when I complement your presence.
My ink bleeds when I'm depressed by your absence.
Your eyes hold mysteries that I would love to untangle.
Happiness fills up the space inside your heart.
Until it finds a way to crawl out.
And beautifully express itself as a paragon of art.
It's amazing how these simple words mean so much.
Eyes close then lips gently touch.
I have no need for poetry when I have your touch.
Your love shows me how simply beautiful you are within.
I'm captivated by you - your lips, voice, smile and grin.
And ever since I met you.
I define beauty by only you.
In the rain of your presence my words form a rainbow.
My heartbeat has been replaced with the sound of your name.
Your love dissipated my pain.
Happily looking forward to the memories I am yet to gain.
I'm left paralysed by your voice.
Still amazed by your poise.
I found my true happiness in your eyes.
I hope you won't mind if I stare.
I hope all the beautiful words you yearn to hear.
All make their way to your ear.
My ink bleeds when I'm depressed by your absence.
My ink bleeds when I complement your presence.
My ink bleeds when I give words to your silence.
My ink bleeds when my heart experiences an emotional violence.
My ink bleeds.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 7:34 PM UTC
It is still blurry,
The times you held me helplessly. Holding this flesh that blinked with desperation. The glasses of problems brought to bed. Complete care with a side of beauty. Electric fingertips flowing along my sides. Stunning the flow in these veins.
It is still blurry,
The words that pressed off your tongue. Words that finished sleep and solid thought. The same mouth that has changed lives, comforted family, cursed like a sailor. Giving strength to simply continue. Moving mountains, depending on your approach. Making mornings sunlit on cloudy days. Your sunlight showed this life dissipated darkness.
It is still blurry,
Angst and tension between bones. The tension that can't be resisted nor denied. Giving me the strength transverse miles each way, just to sleep next to your breath. Open this heart, cuddle with its inners. Cut this tension with your actions knives.
It is still blurry,
The elation you delivered to my doorstep. Served purpose in my life. Giving me a chance to release all those dusty window sills in the attic. I complied an archives of you in my senses. The way you gave that heart of yours.
It is still blurry,
The times you settled the fears resting on your ancient dresser. Yeah the one you brag about. The one that held our water during rest, held our alarms to begin another day, and even our books of education shared. We have split these lives in so many directions. All ending in the same bed. Closer than my skin is to its bones. We were one in that bed. One after a life lived in every direction.
It is still blurry,
Your purpose. Actions and words in separate realms. All it would have took was a phone call. You insisted the benefits. Leaving us in seperate beds, different countries, different mind sets. Why not just enjoy love. Love lost in a storm of self discovery.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
The clock struck midnight
With an informative pang
I couldn't face it's music
So I turned counterclockwise
But time kept moving forward
As my wisdom dissipated
Bad times I anticipated
As I wandered through life
Burdens grew
Weight added with each step
My feet started to sink into the ground
So I got in my car
And drove
And kept driving
The more I traveled
The more I witnessed
The less I talked
As I grappled with the futility and necessity of communication
The clock warned of night's approach
I decided to continue driving
Luminous fireflies pelted my vessel
Their lamps exploding upon impact against my vehicle
The ability to destroy light
Exhilarated me
And I became addicted
To extinguishing that which shines
Until darkness flooded my engine
And an abysmal order was made by my abyssal odor
I had to exit my vehicle
And consult a mechanic
He explained my engine wouldn't work
Unless my windows were down
Which solved my darkness problem
But those ****** pests pervaded my car
Their locust glow disoriented me
The slight variations of their unique displays
Manufactured chaos within the light
My eyes grew accustomed to entropy
My brain grew accustomed to impairment
Commuters noticed my erratic driving
And offered to assist me
By attempting to ram me off the road
But the impenetrable light created a force field
Impalas couldn't run through
For my light bugs too much
Buffering me from others
And driving others from me
Leaving me alone
As a giant pulsating light that never stops moving
Is this how a star is born?
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
are feelings of love felt alone, feelings of love at all?
or selfish yelps for attention borne
of boredom & a sense we only hold on our own
of childish
- - - - idleness.
singularity less; more independence from a whole
the only company he keeps is furniture
together with the furniture of the house he sits,
with seven seats left empty,
the curtains tales appear to grin
without validation from another he feels
like a child standing
the school's final bells rung
the bustle of the day has droned
now dissipated
the bustle of the day irritated
when it droned, he longed for home
for the bus
as he waits for the bus the quiet surrounds hold tight
but hold cold
like a fridge door keeps, it clutches, encloses
the school yard empty
he stands; singular; out of place in the surrounds
the school bleeds terror when empty
The laughs & shouts & jeers & footsteps
keep the wholesomeness whole
empty of shouts
a graveyard now
the ghosts of the day linger
& they finger
your buttons they push
your tenderness they kneed out
they **** (with their cold digits they ****
just like the furniture does.
just like the furniture in the house laughs
when uninhabited
it silently jeers
'Why so many seats mate?' it pokes with its linen digit; fuzzy but cold
as it continues
'you're alone
waiting for someone
to come by and pick u up
& take u back to home
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
*song shadows
soul and mirrors
will we ever see clearer
sweet life
oh the fragrance
the righteous mind
un-sees the danger
so many soldiers
so many women
are all of our fathers
really little children
move swiftly
into the windy recesses
the mind regresses
all the time
damp and wet
the owl cries
so long tomorrow
farewell goodbye
dunk your head
in liquid splendor
i am tender as the snow
pouring down from heaven’s fiefdom
morning's hunger is dissipated
by moonlight kisses and salty lovers
salves of calendula upon our skin
swim in juicy wonder
listen and dance with thunder
the fireflies swim through burning skies
making arcs and triumphant cries
what a silly blunder
all the noise and all the cover
hiding your heart in violet garments
streams of satin in your slumber
stroke the liberated arrow
weave the gardenia’s shadow
streams of consciousness and beauty
looking into eyes of human strategy
human shadows
start to suffocate us
instruct the timber
plundered
strumming humid arias
looms of butter start to melt
svelte and spelt
slews of wealth
heaven's belt is loosely tied
striated like the mind
grinding hind legs
selves neglect entry fees
sleeves of grass
embrace strands of ice
with a lover or two
on the side*
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
eyes survey a distant horizon
and eyes see
what the heart loves
what the body cannot reach
where the soul is mingled
dissipated and whole
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
On a lovely beach like this,
where waters are placid,
at the best time of the year to swim,
he shouldn't have come alone,
but his star has gone from the firmament,
dashing all his hopes
not able to overcome the loss of her,
he can only be alone.
Here he feels a mistrust on the faces of girls,
the boys are all alarmed, seeing a loner,
unlike before, the languages spoken sounds strange,
he couldn't follow most,
then, the smiles were so warm and welcoming,
now skewed, he feels ill at ease,
at last a girl, another loner,
spots him from afar
wistfully she sends her eyes, swimming fish,
as if asking"Is it you again?"
and for a moment of forgetfulness,
he thinks it could be her and forgets his pain,
though his heart knows well,
that the waves dissipated yesterday,
would never be here again,
with its gifts taken back for ever.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
It's been a while and I haven't slept
I'm too cold now and I haven't wept
The numbness gave way to madness
And now I'm feeling fine
Now I smile once in a day Isn't it a good sign
But the urge to take a hit makes me weak and dissipated
It never let go of me even though I truly waited
And I'm slowly walking towards the edge of my story
Ready to fly for a while before I take a fall
Life is scattered In a nightmare
But I don't have the strength to burn it all
And I'm slowly losing sanity
Yesterday I saw a cow fly
It hissed at me like a snake
It hurts that it didn't even say goodbye
Before it took off for the meadows
Where I hope it gets beaten by the troll and dies
Enough of my sweet dreams
I'm not delusioned enough to believe 'em to be real
But I'm getting cold and old now
There is just no way that I can heal
And I fade away like the dinosaurs
But not as cool 'cause there's no super-volcano or a meteorite
And cobain told me I should burn away
Something about burning and showing them light
It's better to burn than to fade away
He wrote on his suicide note
Gun-shot or a nuclear holocaust
I seriously need some votes
I can't make my mind about how this stupidity might end
And to go out as decently as I can
Those religious folks I don't Want to offend
Or they'll waste everyone's time preaching about a god thats just too bored to even care
If he's there somewhere maybe of earths existence he's not even Aware
We're so tiny, I wonder if he can even see ourselves
Tell 'em apple guys to gift him an iPhone , so he can google himself
And see for himself that 'porn' is more googled than him
That he has lost his crown
All of the religious folks reading This ****
Please , don't frown
But still, in-spite of my pleas if you still want to
Fine , go ahead
Just letting you all know I'm 'gonna sin again
There's a girl on my bed
and I think you can make it out where it'll lead
I know I know , I'm going to hell and I'm never 'gonna be freed
But who cares
its not like they're 'gonna give em girls to me in heaven
There's no point to refuse now
And On the other hand someone said we can do whatever we Want to
Than hey , why is this **** even going down ?
I told you I'm deranged but you didn't believe
It was nice letting it all out and now I can sleep
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
so you're dying.
I don't want to believe it,
even though,
I see it.
I see it in the agony of your smile
and how much it hurts you to do so.
I see it in your shortness of breath,
with the weakening of your step;
but the strength has not left.
That blasted leukemia,
why not somebody else?
Someone who doesn't give a ****
about their health.
It's unfair.
Seeing you there.
Chemo after chemo
one transfusion after the next,
your body is giving up,
the ability to heal has dissipated,
although your spirit has illuminated,
****** you gave it your best!
Don't ever stop breathing,
please just take a breath.
Don't ever stop breathing.
Don't.
Ever.
Stop.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
You mispronounce my name
You forget I'm lefthanded
I think this is just me
I think this is one-sided
Your warmth has dissipated
It left a hardness
Inside my chest,
Like a plum
Now pitted and pruned
But I still hope
To see you soon
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Stared at a clock today
it was broken
it ticked slower and slower
until it's time seemed to be frozen
Even in it's current state
It would be right twice a day
* I was reminded of lie I was once told
it had left me broken, bitter
battered and cold
But even this lie would've been made true
if it was left to sit unfixed
and I let those emotions brew*
I stared at the clock, unimpressed
the clock had stopped,
twelve o'clock it read
but I knew that it was taunting, teasing
and I believed what it said
*There, I stood, alone and naked
debating with myself if I stood
broken and forsaken
or if this was the start of the new
the beginning of the path less taken
for whichever I stood to believe, this I knew
where I stood then, that was the catalyst
and where I will be next can't be presumed
but for this moment, this second in time
is the only time it will be my center, my middle*
my noon
And with a taunting tick, this clock
began to move again
tock, tick; tick, tock
and without a show of face
I stared in surprise
the clock began to run backward
began to mock
Turning back time
seconds, hours
whispering, shimmering
tempting with the ability to rewind
time
* ...and her face began to focus in my thoughts
the ringing in my ears became clear
became screaming
and the pain I had wrought faded
and the scars done to me dissipated
just for a second, I was watching myself
holding her, touching her, *** despising her**
...and I awake alone
sweating
yearning
scars burning
stomach turning
*And down the hall the clock can be heard with it's ominous, taunting tick-tock ticking into *
oblivion
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
Vulnerability is a funny thing. Everyday people urge us to be authentic- with ourselves, our peers, our passions. Yet when we cut ourselves open for the world to see, they run from us as if we are violent rip currents waiting to take them under. When in reality we are nothing but individual tide pools sometimes puddled into something so much bigger than what others want to openly accept.
But I refuse to not live a life of authenticity. So many souls become comfortable with safety, causing them to become deeply implanted in solely just the soil in which they have resided their entire time of growing. Genuine love for something other than yourself has become nothing but a fossil of a feeling. Streams of emotions have dissipated and turned into desert lands.
As for me, I took the time to disappear within myself. I discovered my flatlands and made them curved. Those rip currents everyone always runs from are big, but so am I. A vulnerable soul may be looked at as someone made up of only dainty fallen petals, but the truth is they're looking past someone with roots dug deeper than sunken teeth into bitten skin.
What's authentic to those who shelter themselves like boarded windows in the midst of a storm might as well be forgery to me. I urge you to not be afraid to put your innermost self into another pair of shaky hands. To not hesitate to whisper your deepest ridden thoughts into caverns of a mind that's not your own. To not second guess putting you're ragged edged heart into someone else's hollow chest.
Vulnerability and authenticity meet at an intersection that you must come to terms with stopping at. I hope to see you there.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC