On nights when
the demons come sit by my bed,
I find myself slowly
undoing the threads of my knitted thoughts
and discover things I was
never meant to remember.
I poke my needle through
the fabric of memories
and punch a hole into every inch
that smells like you.
on nights when
the demons come sit by my bed,
it feels a lot like being with you.
Sometimes I’m convinced
my face is made out of the iron armor
soldiers wear at war;
for every inch defers
and protects me
from wounds of swords
that are words.
I’ve been bruised before
and I know I will incur pain in the future
but for now, when my
words have deserted me in my present,
I seek refuge
behind the shield of silence,
and the protection of a face
that only knows how to smile.
There is simply no tax or fare you need to pay for feeling too much.
Feeling too much is like drowning yourself in alcohol you know is not healthy to consume. Feeling too much is the nausea that comes after, curable, but time consuming. Feeling too much is the rent you pay for opening your arms far too wide for someone who does not love you back.
So when I say I feel too much, I need you to know that my insides are tangled up like reels of unbound thread soaked in gravity, raining from the clouds.
There’s a lot of slow, endless falling.
My lonliness is the long lost, abandoned marketplace with empty shops cramped together/ Walls against walls against walls against walls/ Empty vestibules filled with echoes of silence/ We trade emptiness here.
Today I learned that it will hurt a lot to have your own perspective of things. I learned that even though we might see our unique interpretations as something that sets us apart, they also pull us back to believing the illusion that everything we see is exactly what it seems; that there aren’t more parts to a story than the ones we choose to read.
But there are. In a world where every element exists in pairs: night & day, fire & ice, real & virtual, matter & antimatter, perspectives too, occur in more than one ways. I always thought I was capable of looking out of the box that limits me to my opinion, that I could see what someone else might want to take out of the situation.
I was wrong. You never really know.
I learned that a confrontation can help in more ways than it can cause harm. There was a lucid, brilliant clarity, a lightness that I felt about myself as I talked out loud about something that had been pestering me, lingering on in my conscience so ardently.
I am fine, to state my mood in the exact terms. I’m learning how to deal with difficult situations. It is a little hard for first timers like me, but it’s the lesson of a lifetime. I’m trying to keep my emotions in check and not muddle up what I feel and who I am.
So far, this is working out.
Things are changing faster than I thought they would. I hate change; I resist it, I try to stop it the same way insulators try to tame electricity.
Crying became my savior today. It could wring me out of my self hatred, of how much I was suddenly beginning to despise myself. It feels good when your body gets rid of poison. I was holding onto poison inside.
I do not want a confrontation. I’d prefer to run away, as always. Addressing the situation uproots too many seeds that transform into tiny nuclear bombs. In the end, we will be the casualties.
Who am I kidding?
We already are.
There are a lot of moments which have me begging
for magical powers that could freeze the universe for a few moments;
So I could be destiny’s handyman,
and shuffle things back where they belong.
From their frenzied, messed up lives,
relocate people to places they needed to be.
To be the prime conspirator,
and tip the dominos of destiny.
Mend the lovers going astray,
couples parting ways.
Pair love with love, passion with heat.
And you right here,
back next to me.