Again before an emptiness of soul, where all is fears.
Awake but mind devoid of light or any new ideas.
Crushing feeling of loneliness permeates the very air.
Every action taken or ignored devoid of simple care.

How did I become this decayed and empty thing?
Thinking daily upon miseries, so often days before did bring.
Distant, faded memory of the moments that made a smile.
So fleetingly they went to allow despair room all this while.

Worth? A sense of purpose long deserted, gone and fled.
Only a loathing and a pointlessness is left to fill my head.
Long days before today and for others still yet to come,
Without reason to be, certain only eventually I will succumb.

Like coats of paint upon a wall each day another layer smears.
No smiles, no joy, no hope just a face soddened by my tears.
Ever present darkness, shrouds of dark veils upon me, drape.
Calling increasing loudly that there is only one true escape.

A single drop of rain upon the ground.
Like lightning strike that struck rain soddened earth.
A monotonous voice rattles around,
It’s face lit in the depths of the stone hearth,
One light that will forever show me, you.
Path burdened with unforgiving sorrow.
To a life that waves a final adieu,
There’s an endless number of tomorrows.

But then tomorrow becomes yesterday
With the fading “Au Revoir” in the wind.
The distant trembles of sorrow that fray.
Closed eyes of the once forgiving and kind.
An undying love ceasing to exist,
As a leaf on a river set adrift.

The chair gripped like a bear
mauled into place
tongue tied, throat silenced
roaring....

ferociously .....
the door raged between us
locked loudly
cries , crawled their grimy patch

hung momentarily, felt the stale air
quietly gathering, pooling damply
cheek soddened in pain
giant force propelled, the floor

hard and unrelenting shocked my bones
breath forced itself outward....
black and rigid
the open window of before.... forced shut

palms spread across the floor
interrupted, reinforced toes stamped
crushingly, the sound resonating
without movement now

I’m in a limbo. A state of equivocality. Everything hangs in the air, but I try to chart my daily course as I normally do. Times are tough. Uncertain, too. Notwithstanding, I’ve taken more than I can chew.

I’m in too deep. I’m in a dark place.

You see, I was the golden child. A beacon of light. Envy was nothing new to me. I rarely espoused it, but was the oft object of it. Little Miss Perfect – always so put together. Always has her things together. I have Midas Touch, they say. I’m on a plane higher than my peers – on a dais atop the average twenty-two year-old. I can do no wrong. Only upwards from here.

So they say.

So I thought.

Today, my days bleed into one another. Sunday? Monday? What difference does a name make? I run on two hours of sleep and three thirty-minute naps a day. I don’t wake up to my 5 AM alarm. Nor sleep through it. It throttles to life as I hurriedly read tomorrow’s later’s assigned readings. I might get some sleep in. I rarely do. Finish your readings. Finish your work. Finish your classes. Eat in between.

Objectively, I’m in a good place. Roof over my head. Food on my plate. More importantly, safe. No 40-degree thermometers and sputum litter around. This makes me feel worse. Ungrateful *****. Little Miss Drama Queen. A million would **** to be in your shoes.

I’m in a limbo – my brain encased in a cloud of humdrum trepidation. Filled to the brim with silent thumps of dread. Thump. Thump. Thump. It’s not as if I did not try to do better to feel better. I do – I always do. My lists abound. #SelfCare’s always on top. Thump. Thump. Thump. They do little to quell my panic room of a mind.

Sometimes I wonder if this is how watercolor pigments feel. They are always so vivacious off of the manufacturing press. The reds are constantly vibrant and the blues are consistently resonant. But they fade when water comes into contact – even meshing into an ugly grey on the canvas when they touch the other diluted hues.

I’m in a limbo – no sense of past, present, and future. Everyday is a low frequency static hissing at my ears. Wonder child soddened by the somber. I’d build a rocket, they say. I’d own the world, they say.

All I am is tired nowadays.

Like as heaven's golden eye
In all her timeless grandeur
Doth emanate to paint the sky
In polychromatic hues all o'er
At the break of dawn, so raced I
 Briskly through woods of failure,
     Yonder the mighty hill of success
      That shimmered in the distance.

The closer I drew, the further the hill,
But despite the task seemed sisyphean,
Winds of hope came driving me still
Right through thorny thickets of men
That unto me said I'll never get uphill,
But though girthed with such ill omen,
     I bore it in mind, at the end of day,
     Even the sun fades into heaven's bay.

They tried to pull me down,
But, "giving up" ain't my name;
When at last I wore a golden crown,
They tumbled into a sea of shame
And there deep they didst drown
Till so soddened every part of them:
     "For now every body knows my story,
     I rest not till I behold clouds of glory."


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angeles, California, 8/4th/2019.

           #Words Of Wisdom

I often sit by the window,
Gazing,
At the  limitless sky.
Awaiting,
The weary travelers across space and time.

The warmth of the sun at daytime
And the hues of crimson before bedtime
I thank you both, for the brief sojourn,
And wish you had prolonged your stay.
But,
What good would it bring..
When I'm soaked soddened from inside.

I often sit by the window,
Gazing,
At the  limitless sky.
Awaiting,
The weary travelers across space and time.

You remembered
the girl
not her name
but Ward

the kid next to you
in the science class
caught sight
of the girls

through the window
off across
the sports field
in their yellow tops

and green
short
P.E. skirts
and said

in hushed voice
look at that
all that girl flesh
and me stuck here

being brain soddened
by this science guff
when I could be out
with the girls

you saw her
out there
with skip rope
rushing after others

the sun warm
the sky hazy
the science teacher
sprouting off

about something boring
and Ward
his eyes
supping it all in

through the glass
the sports teacher
following
in her adult

blue top
and white P.E skirt
with whistle
between lips

and the girl
had been swallowed up
into the mass
of yellows

and greens
and legs
and arms
and the glass

of the classroom
like a huge
picture frame
holding for the eyes

the girls
in yellow and green
and the girl
with the lost name.

Her mouth flooded with a metallic taste;
Her lips, with blood, soddened -
As she gasped the thin air that tried to escape,
All of a sudden.
Her world began to shake,
Her pupils began to broaden.
She had began to smile at her fate,
As soon as the bullet had gone in.
No, this was no mistake
This was the work of her soul, trodden.
She hoped they all saw and ached
At how they all had treated her rotten.
She thought, "it's never too late
to never again be forgotten."

But she never realized the stake
That her thoughts had wrought in.
This misguided emotional state,
Permanently set by the bullet she shot in.
Her twisted thoughts couldn't be straight,
Thanks to the pain that she had gotten.

Her death gave the pain an unlikely trait:
It became a virus that, in others, had now begotten.
Her troubles she would indeed abdicate
To those that loved her, as if by the push of a button.

There is a garden in my heart;
Barren and bare,Devoid and dark.
Nothing lives there but my tears,
Sulky, soddened; no one cares.
Used to be that it was filled
With dandelions, daisies and daffodils,
But they all suffered dreadful pain,
Drenched and drowned in acid rain.
Now my life wont be the same.
There was a lady in my life
She never did become my wife.
She used to groom my garden well.
Where is she now, please pray tell.
Why did she leave my garden bare,
And make the flowers disappear,
Without a who, what, why, or where?

My tears fall
Like mercurial drops
  Silver globules
Explode at contact
With the soddened earth

Ripples of sadness
Flow outwards
  Each, and every heartbreak
Rests upon the crests
As memories drown

Within each solitary teardrop
Within each painful memory
  That hollows out the soul
As your heart
Sinks into the abyss

As you find yourself
Lost, as in the echoes
  Of the final glimmers
And glows
Of a dying star

And soon
Your light
  Will shine
No
More

Just an empty
.
.
  .
.
.
S.P.A.C.E
by Jemia

As if ninety seconds feeble thrusts
from soddened sad chipolatas could
cause quakes or move mountains lest ascent
cloud five much less lead a liberating rush to cloud nine
dare not in mealy-mouthed spat blame maidens who seek more
be it from same or other or multiples undeterred by conventions
look at the drippy quick draw metro men all trousers no mojo super
those emotional stunted ninnies who compensates their shortcomings
by name callings and bullying to hide their inadequacies and small stuff