POET'S SKIN

I dance around vivid imagery and try to create sparks

{f;u.l=l}

Is this what hope feels like?

It assures, calms and comforts. It tells you that you are not as alone as you think you are. It reminds you that sometimes, it’s not that no one cares, it’s that you didn’t even let them care.

I really hope that hope can last.

But hoping on hope is still a risk to hope for, right?

Advertisements

Why do emotions exist?

I wish I could count the bruises it left me.

Weird, dark things that got there somehow without me knowing.

Flighty as it is, it never quite leaves me

but rather, it comes around uninvited.

A leech, parasite – these are names I throw to identify it,

but its not quite like any of them.

For you see,

leeches and parasites can’t live without me

but it,

it… can.

I’m the one who can’t leave without it.

A list of wonderfulness

In this list, I give thanks to the few who have made an impact in my life.

Uranus – You are the sun in my life. I fought so hard to retain warmness but it was something I couldn’t keep. And yet you stayed constant amidst the foreboding. Even as the winds blew you away from favour, you kept returning. You made me hopeful that my tomorrow could change. Whenever despair engulfed me, you pulled me out with your words. You don’t even lie when you do that. You are so, so genuine. So, so beautiful.

Saturn – You’re a spirit trying to find her way. Just like me. In many ways, you aren’t like me, but in so many ways, we concur. Nevertheless, you are beautiful and you are kind. Maybe not always, but you try to be. You make people feel safe in your embrace. Comfort? It’s not the kind of thing anyone can just provide, but you make your beacon so bright in the most terrifying of seas. You are so good just as you are not. You also remind me that birds don’t always stay in the same homes. You come just as easy as you go. But I really hope you haven’t already left.

Pluto – You are someone I can have deep and shallow conversations with. When we converge, we look like two idiotic girls who only know what makeup, clothes and snapchat are. But deep down, we know. We know that not everyone deserves the part of us which is so vulnerable. Not everyone deserves to see beyond the shells that we inhabit. And maybe you’re not a great listener and I mostly listen to you rant, but despite all that, I think you are still so worth it.

Mars – I don’t know how to put you into words but I shall try and how can I not start with this? You are so funny. I love how you make the people around you laugh, but I shudder at how behind that hilarious self that you show, you’re depressed deep down. Melancholic but joyful at the same time. How do you manage being so much? I really want to learn from you. But mostly, I just dwell on the other side. I wish you’d open up even more to me but I also understand why you can’t. After all, it goes both ways.

I wish more people were like you guys.

But its alright, scarcity exists for a reason.

What i bow down to

I am sure we are all familiar with this frequent visitor. When he graces us with his presence, sweat oozes from the glands beneath our palms and our heart thumps like a roaring motor; our head spins and our stomach becomes a flutter. And in that moment, it’s like he gripped you so hard that your entire being turned white and your lips became pale blue from the shock he sent you into.

He is fear.

The fear that gnaws at us as we muster up the courage to speak to someone; the fear which bites us as we contemplate between reaction or silence. It is this fear we get when we wake up and realize we are late for school and it is also this fear we get when we realize we have done something pretty wrong.

Fear. Fear. Fear. As his name rolls on my tongue, I almost feel nothing. It’s like he doesn’t exist, which is funny because he obviously does. He just chooses to knock open our doors at the worst timings ever. It’s funny too, how knowing who he is, we still let him in. He just engulfs us like water, wave after wave until we are drenched and have nowhere else to go. And when that happens, we become but an emblem of ourselves, and “who we are” somehow gets lost along the way.

We can’t help it, can we? He controls our minds like Kilgrave and with just a few words, we seem to abide by his rule and allow ourselves to crumble beneath his feet as he fills us with anxiety. Sucking our souls up and putting us a few steps behind. We return to spot zero: our soon-to-be beginning and also, end.

But this can’t always be the case.

There must be some way his whispers don’t brush past our ears. There must be some way we don’t feel obliged to listen to what he has to say, knowing that all he has to say are a bunch of vile, futile insults that we shouldn’t bother to hear at all. There must be some way.

Maybe we can lock our doors.
No, he’ll just crawl in by the window, wouldn’t he?
Oh, so maybe we can lock the windows too.
Nope, he will drill through every fake wall in this house and don’t even say that you don’t have any fake walls because…we all do.

Or maybe what we can do is stack layers and layers of concrete beneath the floors of where we stand.

Maybe we can build those slabs up so high he won’t be able to physically come in .

And when that occurs, maybe the next time we hear from him, the only thing we will catch is a distant whimper in the applause all around.

Change.

pexels-photo-48734-large

“In the end, the essence of life is CHANGE.”

Life is always moving, whether we like it or not. Change is inevitable and is even said to be the only constant that ever existed. Our lives breathe and move all because there is instability in the structures and rules that we define our lives by. The timeline of events that follow through are also a series of unplanned, spontaneous activities that can either spur our happiness or our unhappiness.

I used to think I was open to change, that I always welcomed it with open arms. I always loved the idea of constantly changing my outlook, my environment and rearranging pieces of my life which didn’t feel quite right. I always thought I was a creature of change, and that I was so consistently in motion that even my own life couldn’t keep up with my volatility.

I guess I was wrong. 

All that I had done was embrace the superficial level of ‘change’: just whatever that influenced the exterior. But inside, I was screaming desperately for help. I was stuck in the chains of my familiar past – the past which was never entirely good but in contrast to the current unwelcome change, seemed perfect. I kept wishing I could go back. Go back to a past where the feelings I experienced were like familiar old friends in hide, even if they weren’t necessarily beneficial ones. I refused to let the change be a part of my life. I resisted against it and refused to budge. Closed down all the doors, let up all the walls; Spun a cocoon right where I rested and wove webs around the loud beating of my unsteady heart. The collision of foreign universes just proved to be too overwhelming for me. I. Broke. Down.

In the ruins of my own fall, I tried to assess just what the problem was. I tried to find out what went wrong.

And among the pieces, I found

insecurity

doubt

distrust 

and thankfully, a minuscule piece of … hope. 

And now, I will try again.

But I will eliminate all these stupid little enemies. 

And I will hold on to that tiny amount of hope and I am going to welcome change.

Let’s wait and see.

 

Obscure universes.

“I want to travel the world. Find out more about the universe, flip through its pages and leave my mark.”

But… I have no money for that. No time either. And of course, nobody to go with.

Life sucks.”

… or does it really?

Hot masses. Not burning hot, yet not lukewarm – made possible by the complex system of hormones and blood, directed by a beating mechanism… and a universe.

Drugs, meat, sugar and fats – they float in its ocean like a pollutant, slowly choking it up usually over a period of less than 100 years.

People are attracted to the physical resplendence of the universe and its lands, its mountains, its waters but

when will people start to search for the universes that lie in front of their vision?

The ones that may pass by in a second or stay for an hour – we seem to disregard them.

These temporary universes… they scream for understanding. They scream for someone to discover their land, their galaxy, to pour light for their stars to shine.

Yet here we are, like fools, declaring our love to travel the physical universe

not knowing that the universe we should start exploring first is just standing right before us.

Fools.

 

Fiction: Veracious dreamer

Lady from forest 3 by Darey-Dawn

My dreams tell stories.

They don’t tell the mundane bedtime stories that lull us to slumber at night, but the eccentric bizarre ones that touch one’s mind like an enigma, engulfed and sheltered in opaque drapes. In my dreams there are always objects filled with deeper meanings, and they always almost never mean what they are in literal terms. Initially, I thought nothing about them. “Dreams are just dreams,” my grandpa used to say. But not when something happened. Something like that happening in my dreams and finally in real life? It could never be a coincidence.

There was one night where I dreamt of being in a forest. This forest was a tangly mess of leaves and vines and I was stuck admist the disarray, screaming to get out. My lungs felt heavy and weary, as though they were filled with water. Instantly, I felt myself pulled down under the ground and strangely, I was then in water. I was in an ocean of unfathomable depth and I could still breathe, as though I was suddenly bestowed with gills. I mean, anything can happen in dreams after all, right? I remember swimming and swimming and the further I swam, the more my lungs hurt, and my muscles, taut. And the deeper I reached, the more corals and seaweeds there was. And so I just kept on going, until I found myself tangled in yet another mess of sea wonder. The weeds were wound around the corals like ribbons tied like knots, and I screamed yet again. As if it was the work of a higher power, my scream got me pulled down to yet another place. Only that it wasn’t exactly a physical terrestrial place we call Earth. I was pulled into space. There, I found myself breathing without the need for any equipment again. I gesticulated in the air, and I remember smiling in fascination at the feeling of liberty, The inextricable feeling of  bareness. Wholeness. And then I woke up. I woke up breathing hard, and in that moment I wondered if my dream could perhaps have been real.

Then one day, it happened. This “forest”. This “sea wonder”. And finally, “space”.

My dreams tell truth.

Large, yet small.

I clear my throat, just in case the world wants to hear my opinions.
I run my tongue over the edges of my white rocks –
smooth and white.
Trust me,
they matter.

But suddenly I am aware that we are flecks of the reflected sun;
and I am just but a minuscule speck of dust –
physically meagre and trifling.
Trust me,
I don’t matter.

I rub my eyes and I look straight – back at myself in the reflection.
My hands move and the image in front of me moves.
Every muscle I clench – it is major.
Trust me,
I matter.

But then I see a trussed up carcass buried below dead grass and dried flowers;
blowflies hanging from the holes where meat once filled.
Everything I am will be gone, in time. It is already gone.
Trust me,
I, you, me, they – we all – don’t matter.

Outshell

You know, maybe one day we all just grow up.

We grow out of our meek little shells coated with the thinnest of materials,
and emerge bare and unclad, bodies dripping with dense fluid.
Would we take the shell that bore us shelter for the past years?
The answer is no, simply because it holds no shed for us anymore.
We grow up, and we grow up, and we grow up,
and along the lines, we discover the person we want to be.
And everything falls into place.
The jagged edges consuming the corners of empty spots
are now covered by the puzzles that have finally found their seating
and we, become.
Whatever we decided to be, we
become.

And I’ll become.

Warm, infinitesimal dimension


Stillness in the air all around – not quite the description for a time like this.
It’s autumn, and the leaves are changing.
Turning into crisp, golden colors, and falling onto my book like little flower petals.
They rustle; glisten; calm. I close the book that’s resting on my laps, and stand up.
The air feels a little chilly, but I feel fine in these warm cotton snugs.
Besides, my scarf is giving me all the protection I need.
My boots hit the bituminous road, making clacking sounds as I tread along.
There is no one here, but I know I am safe, even in this dimension undefined by time and laws.
No one understands me, and that’s why I often escape here, where my whereabouts are but whispers engulfed by the wind. Here, where I drift, no one has to understand me. No one can throw stones at me, nor surround me with their embrace.
And this is just yet another infinitesimal dimension in which I find solace in,
because I know there are so many more portals I will travel through,
and even larger sights to see.
And if you want, I can bring you along.
To the next dimension, may we meet.