Monday, 21 September 2015

Conversations from my past

"I could get lost in you." He said.
"Don't." She replied. "I'm a whirlpool."

Monday, 7 September 2015

7th September

Today, I feel great. My tornado mind has died down, and I've cleared the mess it left behind.
Watching yourself shatter and scatter is a strange thing to see - the quiet aftermath even more so. Sometimes I feel that no sentence could hold all the words that I have lodged in my throat, those heavy words that slid down from my mind so defiantly, enjoying watching me choke and stutter.
And sometimes, on days like these when the leaves dance on the trees, and the September air smells like a thousand hues of green, it pulls me to my living room window like a cartoon character being led by the nose to the waves of the pie cooling on the kitchen table. It tugs on my sleeve and whispers in my ear; "let me in". And I do. Every time, I do. Tonight, I opened up my window and inhaled those greens, I breathed in the scent of mountains and memories so deeply that I wondered if my lungs would sprout flowers. And there in that moment, I realized, that my weakness wasn't ever loving you. It was loving feeling alive.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

I built my Kingdom from the dust of a crumbled soul
poured and merged with salt water, some unpalatable strength
hardened those walls into cement
forty feet high.
I don't think you understand my happiness,
my safety net is old and frayed at the edges now
So please don't ask me to climb to the attic
in the home I built alone with bleeding hands
deep in my dusty Kingdom
and jump.

Empty Stomach

I'd felt this feeling before
this hunger
a deep rumbling for more
Like a grateful dog beneath the table
at the feet of your throne
I begged for the scraps of you to keep me satisfied
Please, please sir
Feed this beast inside of me
Keep her quiet
She's so hungry