I shouldn’t be upset with making my life better without you, when you’re the one who held me down all these years. But here I am, at three in the morning, worrying about going off on my own.
—3 am anxiety
0I don’t love you the same
I can’t help but feel
We’re missing something
There’s too much fear of
The unknown
I can’t see a way out
I can’t see how to move
Forward with you
0When you just gotta laugh to yourself cause you fooled yourself into thinking the trauma was done and over with. But how shitty social networking really is. And show shitty family still comes back to haunt you after all these years.
0There is a love in you,
as of yet unanswered;
unfound in another.
You used to exude it from
every pore.It opened up a world of hurt,
till you supposed you
yearned
for a thing non-existent.And so
you stifled the whispers
whirling in longing
by compressing your rib cage
and all that sought expansion
imploded within.Supernovas turned black holes,
and light faded to this darkness.Wasn’t it supposed to be
easier when you started?But the void aches more
in its ever gnawing
presence.Scoff at the irony of this
self-imposed emptiness:How can nothing hurt more
than anything?The whispers
now cut like razors,
escaping the harsh vacuum
caused by clenched fingers;
wrapped around a heart, still beating.Resonance escapes
no matter how hard you try
to prevent it;seeking that which will amplify it.
And you feel incurably diseased,
when you look over to your lover,
once more wanting
to leave.—
26-5-2020, M.A. Tempels © “… complacency kills.”12Sleep would have been impossible
With that spider camped in the crease
Where the ceiling and wall meetI lifted the cat, who was falling asleep
Because he didn’t see the spider above us:
He was squishy; a bag of syrup in my armsI pointed him like a droopy bazooka
At the flattened intruder,
Who tried so hard to blend into the paint,But the cat locked on, tensed
Into a Louisville Slugger with claws
And swam in the air towards the bookcaseThat was how I left him—reaching up the wall
At the cornered creature, while I slept peacefully
In a sloshy buffet of overlapping dreamsIt’s already 10am, and the cat is still a coil of sleep,
His back turned to me like he hates me,
Like his hunt turned slumber party.1the truth is, i will always look for you in every stranger i meet, in every faces i get a close up look to, in every couple pictures haphazardly pinned on the wall of our favourite coffee shop, in every paradox i encounter because you are a collection of paradoxes, a compilation of everything i need. i will always look for the warmth your hazel eyes held when you gazed at me and at all the people you love. and i will recognise you because i know you more than i ever knew anyone, because i loved you more than i was supposed to love you.
art from illustrations.ru
4The Ferry Landing
You would be forgiven if you forgot there was a battle taking place on the mainland. Standing on the wooden causeway, most of the gunfire coming from the west is drowned out by the sound of seabirds arguing with one another as the diesel engine ferry churns the tide coming into the dock. The sun has already disappeared behind Mount Salvation, blessing its peak with a soft pink-orange halo that is indistinguishable from the fires on the horizon. There was talk at the tavern of a storm coming in. I can’t tell if the echoes I hear are thunder or canon fire. Passengers disembark the vessel. A Saint Bernard lumbers up the metal gangway, the little boy holding his leash failing to slow him. A smartly dressed young woman ascends the steps, smiles and presents a bottle of red wine to her waiting husband. The retired priest sitting on the bench pulls crumbs from a stale loaf of bread and scatters them on the dock for the pigeons and seagulls. Nearby on the beach, where the oyster beds lie, clothes missing their owners wash up on shore.
0Wrap around!
curtains tumble at ears
pins poke
thread woven peacock beaks fleur-de-lis
scrunches at
neck, swaddles
safe – but
worn in mirrors
finger
twirl cotton dyed green
The cloth
is only cloth!
Chatter on TV
bald grey
men red faces
spit fire
word-sparks false flames
does not burn
Incinerates only
ivy abstractions
for printed havens
Shadows
naked without patterns
sketched empty –
blank forbidden to paint. I
hold it,
cotton fingers,
dream of determined eyes
secure in headscarf.
-Tribute to the Scarf, Kelsey Ray Banerjee
0Do you know what it’s like to have your life feel like it’s falling apart and it’s chaotic, it’s sad, it’s stressful, you’re overwhelmed and you just want to break down and sink into the darkness that awaits but there’s just this little glimmer of hope, this one thing that keeps you going, keeps you fighting.
You don’t even realize how strong you are or how much energy it takes to keep your soul safe because you want to experience what it’s like to be happy again, you want to feel alive again. You want to break free from these chains of sadness & loneliness. You want peace & you’ll stop at nothing until you get it.
When you finally get that peace, that you’ve been yearning for. It’s amazing. You feel brand new, refreshed. You think differently, act differently. You’re on the staircase to happiness…. genuine happiness… bliss.. surrounded by people who bring you nothing but comfort. Your new circle, is your safe haven.
0My days are becoming all about waiting for the days to fade away. For me to fade away. For the night to fall and consume me. For me to fall asleep so deep and so dark it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. I am not exhausted. I am. And I don’t think I want to be.
0
