Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

15.11.16 | 28.11.16
Identity INFJ – INFP (Mental Health Analysis Daily)

Identity, a fact of being who or what a person or thing is, identify, who, are you, I am the me that chooses to fabricate my feelings take under consideration for loved ones n hold honesty as its shield, understood, that I don’t have to be perfect even for myself, auto correct, I am imperfect n that’s okay, back to define this emotional, I am also the me that chooses to fight internal battles n still get frustrated at my own failed achievements, physically I’m counting my own existence as I tight rope through daily occurences give emotional the key to all its secrets giving permission to whip lash it back to internal failure, auto correct, hide everything, theres no burden mask your own internal for anyone to see this broken its makes you feel weak, moving on, how does this make you feel, so much preach presence of anything that will set off your wreck, reckless all this emotional no control unsteady, sugar cane your own emotional, speak too much of its truth to all the wrong people, say nothing its too much honesty too much emotional to handle, think about how it makes them feel, auto correct, how does this this make you feel, listen to the question again, key word, you, your answer will always be pending until you find the words to finish its sentence, keeping it moving, where are we now, I’ve lost count of everything, there’s no meaning to this anymore, if you’re reading sorry I wasted your time, for those still reading thank you, for those who understand keep fighting, your mental health is as unpredictable as it is predictable as it is lonely n there is no sugar cane I lied, this kind of state of mind continues to blur my lines all I have is myself n honesty nothing else matters nor does it make sense, I’m both sorry n not sorry for wasting your time, however, we should do this again sometime

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

The L word

When I look at my mum I see pain, I see selfish, I see unknown I see persistance with the slight chance of letting this all go one day

The way this world works is that you’re always being tested by high power, n everyday challenges that have the word burden in every achievement

When I look at my dad I see pain, I see selfish, I see unknown I see the way he envisioned our lives nothing this family now, something like what isn’t always a reality the good life, the happily ever after with a few challenges to marinate

In this lifetime we can only hope for the best of what we have created together, putting in place security for them is the way we know how to keep our loved ones close

When I look at my sister I see progression, I see so much love, nurture n care in her eyes, so much beauty in her eyes, when she puts others first she forgets to put herself before any emotion bewailed her, she is courage in so many challenges

When you practice so intimate for yourself its the most freedom you’ll ever receive, when you reach that content contrast of both selfless n self-love its so much more than any narrative can really capture

When I look at my sister I see will, I see compassion, I see burning confidence enough to fool even the closest of love, she’s so much hero it’ll bring you to tears how much good she has done

Hero’s don’t know how much they have saved, I guess that’s the irony, when they do so much for the greater good for those they love, beam this compassion so bright it’ll bring them to tears

When I think about my brother I see passive, I see observing too often, I see outspoken narrative loud enough to deafen, don’t know how much he observes, when we speak of events unheard of he goes silent n dismisses, what do you do when you don’t know what you’ve been oppressing

This has become the norm, very soon we will all become passive to the occurence of our own oppressions berried so deep we don’t even know when it’ll show its teeth, too clear for us to understand, fast forward to now, we’ve become passive to the occurence of our own oppression under this roof 

When I think about myself I see lonely, I see yearning, I see practice what you preach, I write so much of what I feel on paper for you to call it poetry when in reality this is the only way I know how to deal with my mental health, there isn’t much of an option when you don’t know 

So many thoughts come to visit this body, this body n state of mind are all I talk about as though this isn’t my body, as though there aren’t two souls roaming this body, there’s too much to say about what’s happening on the inside so I try to let it all out some how, the only way I know how, when I write these narratives from this body I am writing it from a second person point a view you may not understand although that’s okay

When I think about my family I see reckless, I see passive selfish love, I see uncertain, don’t know how long we can keep trying to fix something that is so broken, the damage there for all of us to see, its tiring, attempting to fix, just so someone can come n be reckless once again there’s only so many times you can keep fixing something that is so broken, we’re tired, we’re all tired from looking at all the broken pieces, some of them lost in all the action never to be redeemed, we don’t want them back because its enough, its enough now, we’re tired, we’ve given it all we can forgetting how long the damaged has stayed this broken for so long how do you fix something that just keeps braking so easily it exhausting watching love show you how ugly it looks over n over again, its tiring

When I think about the word love I see hopeless, I see unattainable, I see untrustworthy so much of what it doesn’t mean to over share with us

However, its there, its showing us too much of what its syllables mean n its tiring, its really just

Its tiring

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

21.11.16 | 23.11.16


When I dim down the lights n ponder on what the heart wants, I think about the word happiness

I think about

What if feels like to care about someone so deeply that the fastening is yielding, I believe in invisible connections too much to base it on what you hear too clearly

I like the words uncanny, irony, n how love bounces off the crescent of their smile, that overwhelming feeling to over share with strangers, the urge to give all of yourself to someone who isn’t always worthy, these are all signs of what I have gathered the heart beats to unseen

Unheard rhythm so poetic it’ll give you unforeseen chance

You’ll be shine n smile so bright when I tell you its secrets, when I share with you the powers it has over your own will, you won’t believe how the feeling will give you release, trademark yourself into its syllables so recklessly you’ll pick roses despite its thorns n draw a blank to boundaries

When I think about what the heart wants, I think about reckless happiness n all its secrets

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

20.10.19 | 22.10.16 | 14.11.16
Victim, wolf


This one time a man on the tram feathered filthy hands violating my body, as he stroked n groped so comfortable on his own will

Can we take a minute

This one time my little sister had to put up with boys will be boys behind closed doors n boys blaming it on urge

Lets take a minute

When we give toys to the name of women n acceptable society stereotypes to men who feel like they have some sort of entitlement to our body, n society makes it easy to throw around phrases that fall out of their mouth like they don’t have kin brave enough to protect, swearing that believe its wrong n still be the first to ask but what were you wearing is inexcusable


This is now not only a fight against filthy perpetrators, it is a fight against those who question n second guess

When this culture has been segregating victims from their trauma, did their best to remember a painful memory, this is for those who divine wolf

By what means is it acceptable for anyone to touch, taste, grab, grope without your voice to your own body, think about the many ways this culture has been hiding behind open doors, wide enough to make victims feel like the invitation, what they don’t acknowledge is the painful recurring play back instead of looking for answers, we blame the victim, how is this excused, how do we live in a society, a government that swear to protect their citizens when wolf gets away, how absurd when we prompt n preach put laws in place in the name of protect

I want to apologize to the fellow victims

To the accused bench warmers let me try n give you a glimpse of what it feels like, close your eyes

Imagine what its like to be backed up into a tight space, have unfamiliar hands so intimate you can smell your own fear, paralyzed that your own body doesn’t know how to react to this kind of unpleasant, even though you’ve sworn to scream so loud if you were to ever cross its shortcut, restless blank as your body is being violated frantically taking steps anywhere you find empty spaces, n its in that moment you follow its hand that you meet his gaze n he quickly snaps his hand back to his side n your body doesn’t know what to make of what just happened as you stand in dismay wondering if anyone had seen him, wondering if anyone will believe you, your body starting to feel the aftermath of its assault, as you stay shaken n stay paranoid walking to your platform, your mind pretending nothing ever happened, n your body still feeling the shock n shame as you make your way back home, this is a slight reality of what victims go through when you ask ludicrous

Did you grasp moral humanity yet

Poem: Melody of Being Animate

Body to me

You know that feeling when you want to hold on to so much, when you aren’t ready to let go, when everything you do feels like careless, accidents that feel all too familiar

Like you’ve been here before
Like this feeling never went away
Like it was numb to you, numb now
It doesn’t settle well when you’re left alone

Quiet spaces make it clearer to thinking without logic, making it easier to believe all its lies, all its truths,these memories never really went away, they were berried in the deepest parts of you like your own body was hiding the deepest parts that affiliated so much emotional wreck

Recklessly ramage through written, unwritten words that jumped out of their pages to show what they were really saying

Back then, now

Starting to remember too much forgotten memory, didn’t know that something so small could trigger its symptoms, that the reasons why are all starting to find themselves at their syllables n form truths to every unwritten, written, this bodies truth resides in so much broken, its kindred its everything n ran with its unwanted spirit a long time ago

It doesn’t like the word lie, dishonest, you, this body

You won’t understand how much it contradicts n dictates

I wish it never found love this way, peace in its defiance

However this, this way, the painful, unforgotten, emotional wreck will always be there beside her telling her how when she can’t, when why

Now its taking her into their kin too, she’s become syllables of selfless self-love, emotional wreck, unforgotten n broken

Each time this feeling comes to visit this body, she is reminded of this, n in-twin that she will always be so much more then the syllables she’s conjoined to you