Tag Archives: Fiction

Dreamer’s Struggle—Reality or Fear?

4 Nov

My blood is pumping, my ears cannot distinguish between the sounds of screams, moans and yells, the mob is too much. Clusters of people are gathering around squishing, pushing, no hesitation, only panic.

I wake up. Dead air, silence, nothing.

I can go back in time,

I can rehearse the chaos,

Feel the hands, and fingers of hundreds poking at me,

grabbing,

what is this nightmare?
Is it a reality? A memory from before this life?

How can a dream feel so vivid, so real….so much like the crystallized snapshot,

only memories are capable of producing?

I close my eyes, the bed says sleep child, sleep.

Yet the child shivers,

And though my body is no longer small and weak,

Though my hands have grown,

And my knowledge of this world deepended,

The helplessness is still there,

The unknowing, that fear that is easy to push down,

Comes back up sometimes…

I tell myself it is not real…I am in control.

Sometimes though, when I have fought too much,

When my armor is off,

It is hard, it is a choice.

Let the fear consume me, I could just stay in my shell forever.

Or crush my teeth together, scream at this nameless evil,

And reach a state of happiness,

Hard to grasp,

But once I’m there—

The struggle makes sense,

The worth of happiness is stronger than the price of remaining nothing.

Advertisements

Ever Wish

20 Oct

All these charismatic people,

standing around me,

Speaking only when value comes to mind,

Their smiles are gold,

It makes even the most desolate, glimmer in hope.

Oh, they play the game well,

yet–

they are all mad.

 

INSANE—yet it would be criminal–

to sound out this truth,

I will cling to their personas

and wish they were my own.

How natural their gestures

and questions

their rhythmic dancing and composed faces,

ah if only I could be like these beautiful creatures

each reflecting the delicacy of life.

 

All around me, I watch,

as they laugh at those who could never be lunatics like them,

silence grip me—

Because they’ll show their humanity

give a hand where it needed

and a lack of control on my part seeps out

 

—-for how can one be so cruel and at the next moment,

the philanthropist?

 

These things I will never put a name on,

never know what defines them,

will their karmic damage ever manifest?

 

All these charismatic people,

are the characters that color my life

and I’ll love them forever,

even if I cannot understand every action,

I’ll still wish I could be them…..

But at least I get to watch.

Meaningless Thrills

13 Oct

Filling the dark room with the soft seductive music of the devil,

They played the game across the room,

Took a hand,

Grasped a shoulder,

Skin on skin,

That is how we like it.

 

 

Flash forward,

When is it going to end?

My pain, this deep guttural suffering

It twists in me, the memories leap out everywhere

My lonely soul, my heart ripped

Too many times this dance has leaded me to despair.

 

 

Yet it happens everywhere

All the time, right now.

And it’s no unique situation,

Those who get hurt easily should know better.

 

 

Flash back to that room,

The music subdues all the mortals in the room,

Do they really think this is the last night of fun?

I pull away,

I look around,

This has happened before

This mistake

These moves–all of it.

 

 

 

It’s been so long,

This environment— is toxic

These people they are stuck in this,

And again and again, I’ll get sick

With this disease not of the heart but the mind

The ego

It easily bruises, depression sets in,

These symptoms I should know—

They come from actions unspoken

And the idea of thrill—-

 

 

Inflicting pain on you is a choice—

When you have learned the lesson and yet choose,

Not to apply what you have learned.

And is it really worth it?

Is satisfying thrill worth the pain that follows?

 

I had to consciously ask my self this

And for a while, I could not because….

Like a merry-go-round rotating faster and faster

The speed making me dizzy with delusion

I just thought about the momentary happiness,

Didn’t look at the future,

And sometimes we must step out of that merry-go-round,

Out of that seductive room,

Take a breath and question what you want

And if what you are doing is taking you there or somewhere

Only pains exist.

 

 

Be prepared to run…

And that is okay because

What you want will come around

At some point at, the right place, the right time, the right people.

Sometimes running

Is the strength your patience needs.

Inside Paramnesia

9 Oct

I forget that I am human,

I forget that perfection is a disease.

That it can take us towards a level of inaccuracy about ourselves

That starves the soul

Of the water, it needs to grow.

 

It is easy to dwell on the things we do not have

It is easy to wish for the body of the gods

The lips of Aphrodite

The eyes of muses,

But do not get lost in these physical constraints

The world is constantly changing

One day this is good

And that is bad

And back again

So why waste the mental space with

The nonsensical?

Maybe we are trained to want the things we can’t have

Trained to constantly be unhappy

Buy this lipstick and you will cause envy

Spray this fragrance and you will be irresistible.

 

All these physical things

Are much more products of insanity.

Because, it’s not the product that makes you iressistable, beautiful, charismatic,

It is you, who encompasses all the

Attributes of the great.

 

So take a step back

Ask yourself does this matter?

It’s easy to get lost,

Its easy to think the ridiculous is what you want,

That’s why we must question our selves

Question where the motive comes from.

Because in the end, we are all human

All given the same gift,

Of a life no other being encompasses,

Cherish that which matters

That, which counts,

Forget the nonsense,

Forget the noise

Remember the music—

The beat called life.

Temporary Delirium

30 Sep

Living in her own head,

The girl with one earring

The one dancing with a song no one hears,

The one who stares aimlessly into the abyss

I look at her,

I see what she could be

All the possibilities

All the dreams,

Shooting past her

Will she grab one?

 

Crying in his alcoholic melancholy,

He sits where no one can see him,

He laugh’s where no one can hear

Can he catch a shooting star?

Make a wish?

Can he let go of every insecurity?

I look at him,

and wonder,

can he get out of his head?

 

 

Lost is a place,

it’s a time

it is one of those places in-between

it has no gender

no specifics to enter,

it simply is.

 

There is a choice

stay forever

or walk away,

get up,

make a move

speak less and do more of the things that will help make a better life.

 

 

We must run to the things that love us,

we must catch the wonders of the world

and never forget

that we are alive

and all this non-sense

all this background noise

trying to distract us

is irrelevant–doesn’t matter

hold on to what is real,

recognize the imaginary,

distinguish what can be good–

and what can lead you astray.

 

 

One day–all the girls and boys,

come to a point

where they can keep living in childhood delirium

or wake up,

and grow up,

the choice will always be there.

 

 

You will look back at that place called “lost”

and giggle at all the distractions

see how courage saved you,

you will remember that child,

but it’s not you anymore

–you are strong

you are powerful,

you see the right–

 

Never forget you can change!

and you decide

to make your circumstances temporary or permanent,

you decide every day,

if being lost in delirium

is really where you want to be.

 

Seeds of Illness

12 Sep

To say I am angry, is not enough.

Anger makes me an irrational animal,

I’ll bite you,

I’ll growl,

I’ll make you bleed!

 

The result, is worse for me than you.

 

I’ll look, at what I did and said—

and think, that wasn’t worth it.

Praying, wishing that it could be erased

just the event, let time create another memory for me,

one in which guilt won’t follow.

 

 

 

I question my anger. I question the source.

I ask what is your purpose?

I’ll find it has no aim

no goal.

 

It’s a temporary sickness.

The minds disease when unsure how to cope,

but most of all,

when there is not an inch of understanding,

 

How can we start thinking of solutions?

 

Maybe it’s about caring

about giving a shit

about putting it all together

and asking yourself

before anything else transpires

what does this mean to me?

What is going to happen, if I pull that trigger to my insanity?

Whats gonna be the result?

 

 

It’s no good.

It’s no solution,

it’s no answer.

 

Question your anger

question what it means,

and most of all–you must remember,

that anger starts as a seed…

 

Pluck it OUT of your mind,

throw it to the wind.

because anger is NOT REAL.

And it only becomes so–when you let it enter reality,

don’t let your anger become a physical manifestation,

mark it as useless.

 

 

Become the strong spirit you are.

Find it within yourself

that strength,

can come when

the illness of the mind

no longer exists.

Nervous Ruminations

7 Sep

 

A kiss or a cry, that’s how it is with this one. That’s why I don’t want to go tomorrow; I really don’t want to go. I am NOT going.

Can’t I just say I am sick? It doesn’t quite stick at a certain age. There are only so many days, one can hide.

It’s so much more relaxing, hiding I mean. I’ve been in hiding, for sooo long. I can’t even remember what the world looks like.

It’s so much easier, to stay here, in the passive life .Where no situation can embarrass or….hurt me.

I can imagine it now,

I’ll walk into that room and I’ll feel naked!

All my mistakes will bombard me, and I wish I had been smarter!
So what do I do? DO I go? Well what other option do I have, but to go?

I must do what must be done; I can smile at everyone, and say, hey it’s all good.

Act like it’s all fine, because if I act than I’ll feel….peace.

 

How do we learn, if we do not make a mistake? It’s all for the real world, the real life you want to achieve. All these mistakes all these problems, you really think you’ll ever make them again?
No, you won’t because you’re smart.

Because you learn from your mistakes.

And you will never ever make yourself uncomfortable.

 

So I’ll brace myself with good words

I’ll remember to smile,

And maybe, just maybe,

I’ll get through tomorrow. Let it come! I’ll be waiting.