Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12.4.18
draft

Its always a question, a statement of assurance, how the things that learn to keep my body, how the heart is a misfortune in this world, where you find solitude in yourself and keep this body close, how you’re able to let others prey into your sweetest spots just so you can see if they are worthy, how the heart has also learnt to mend and brake at this attempt, you’re the breath of its moments, when you can’t hold it all inside anymore you test its limits and give boundaries no limitations, everything is a gamble now, when you’re this intoxicated on a mind you’re lost in thoughts of how to reconnect and spark its soul, I have always been the type of dreamer that fantasize about love when I feel connections with hearts that become vulnerable at my words, that learn some of my secrets, that know how to tempt me in ways not others can, I am left with questions when I feel this way and what does my body do, it convinces me that this confession is not the only honeyed truth I need, so I hold my breath and I ask, how is it that you’re able to captivate my entirety in this way I have to know, and then, I press send.

 

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Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

11.4.18 | 12.4.18
Unfinished

I know, but what if I was told that dreams are a reality, what if I didn’t watch others and watched myself, I know, what if I gave myself the same connection I crave for others to this healing body, this good body, what if I told the mind all my secrets and the heart joined in, or if I didn’t have to take medication, what if I understood just how important my mental health is, back then, now, I know, what about this body, what if I praised its reflection instead of giving it reasons to apologize, I know, I know but hear me out what if, I didn’t know what it felt like to want to watch myself tear a good thing away from this identity like it was this ugly thing I had mistaken for a flaw, like I knew how to crack this skin, brake my body open so it might have been easier for the pain to drain out of this body, I know, I know what you’re thinking, but what if I didn’t know how to fix me, what if I did, what if I told myself I’ve tried and that therapy isn’t working anymore and this medication is making me feel worse, and that my body has started aching again and all I want to do is sleep away this lifetime, forever, I know, but what if I told you I’m in love with this body, that every time the heart brakes its the first one to run to it rescue with chocolates and pep talks, that the mind has also learnt to kiss the heart in need, that slowly, we are learning to love from the inside, we are learning that to be whole is to bruise and ache so we know what we are worth, that we are always this worthy, that we suffer from this type of craving, to reach the most of ourselves, I know, I know what you’re thinking but what if I told you..

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

8.4.18

I haven’t had time stop like this for a while, I’ve been so busy with nothing and taking medication, it felt like clear and no feeling, been focused on the most strange, like things that feel light and heavy but there is no emotion, like things that make me forget like not forgetting maybe like being so present that my body isn’t present, like I was happy in the present but I couldn’t feel it, like I couldn’t think it, I don’t really know how to tell you, I haven’t had the time and space I need to myself and I’m starting to feel like I need to try something else, I have lost myself and I want to find her, I fell in love with her intensity and her will power of quarks.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

29.1.18 | 9.3.18 | 19.3.18

What do you want? I want to know that too, where do you see this going? I don’t have answers to these things, I am a misfortune and a bound soul left in my conscious where I think I belong, what are you hoping for? I hope that the things that are this way that is not okay turn into the moon, where are you? I don’t know how to answer that, who are you with? I am in a place far away from here, somewhere surrounded by a heartbeat and outside of myself, how are you feeling? I am suffocating on this air, my chest feels like crowded and breathless at the same time, I don’t feel safe here, what does safe look like to you? it doesn’t have eyes, its a feeling that can not be described but felt deeply in the heart, I wouldn’t know where to begin, what is left for this body now that you’re accepting to learn about its tamed anarchy? I am learning that we are most alike, that we meet these types of souls for a reason and to dwell on its absence is not always a formality but an acceptance of ourselves and how we choose to exist and exhaust this lifetime, so you have found appreciation yet? yes and maybe, in the form of everything that lives around my truth there are no such things as abnormal nor less important than one another, this connection is a mutating confession with this dream-like reality that lives externally of us, so what would you call it? I want to know that too, I don’t have the answers, I am a bound soul that turns into the moon, where are you? I am in a place far from here, its a feeling that can not be described but felt by the heart, maybe, this connection is a mutating confession with dreamlike realities that are in a constant rotation of ourselves and how we choose to be timeless, which could mean, we are an internally pending reality.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.1.18 |Past and present. Collateral Beauty.

I told her, she is also the reason behind this mind, said that as a child where do I even begin, all I did was throw glass at myself, when she wouldn’t listen to my heart I went into small spaces and tried to put it back together, there were memories, where I cried about not being unsterstood and when you’re this fragile even as a child you stop speaking about how you feel because you start thinking this, is the way everybody must be, when we look at our parents as children, we forget they are human, when we look at our parents as adults we forget they are human, must be sometype of ourselves, how we headache into a state of sanity, forget about the complicated and simple things in life is to exist and include yourself in your own oaisis of this world, is to refuse to believe how cruel we can also be to ourselves, love, time, death.
dear love,
I have watched you in so many people and things that sometimes I don’t know where to place you in myself, you have shown me so much. I met you in my friends now, and the first, was a boy when I was 15 and I still think about him when you escape my mouth.
dear time,
Why is it that we want to consume you and not get lost in you. I have bothered about it too, however, in my reality, you’re not the issue but the answer. I could drown into your syllables and watch the world fall into my arms too.
dear death,
The first time I met you I was 10, my body has not forgotten how you wanted to show your mother your feelings we, are no strange to you. You have given me a part of myself I think I lose each time and this is when we meet, and you, show me, love. I am still learning about your malaise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

24.1.18

Lately, I’ve been finding myself in really strange realities, Im seeing and noticing things that haven’t happened already with so much clarity, and in the same instant losing sleep, and my apatite, Im starting to feel my whole body in this kind of outward gravity, like my body is trying so hard to exist in a kind of presence where I can already see what’s unfolding right before my eyes before it has even happened and all I can do is watch and be cautious of myself, my sense of trust and truth could not be any stronger, I am feeling words like chaos, pain, their feelings, them, the ones who interact with me, watching words that leave their mouth and how their body language acts, I don’t even listen to most of their narrative anymore its enough to watch them speak, I am much more patience in this state of mind with a sense of anarchy and sharp awareness for the way others self whether they choose to show me or not, these types of things are not constraint to me, I am so much more confident in my narrative, what leaves my mouth is absolute, my truth has never been this much voice, there is less body, I am so much self in this state of mind there is no balance just a different sense of lost and reality in the same being but never constraint to these words, I am the most believe when I am this type of self, there’s a strong yielding of bind that holds me, I am finding it really hard to sleep with all this mind, I am in parallels with different moods, realities, and myself where do I even begin to find stability in this actual resilience.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

13.12.17 18.12.17
Depression and anxiety. two mindful contradictions

I said, I must just have a really nervous body, the kind of heart racing sensation that doesn’t know how to pace unsteady, watch the simple things around an existence that has learnt to watch how others self but not mine, I have been this type of lost to my own care it has been so long since I have felt anything unfamiliar to anxiety that can shake this body to not want anything unfamiliar, he said to me, none of us are made this way, you have to learn self and detach from familiar, he spoke so softly to me and I couldn’t even look at him, I thought about how predictable we are all addicted to something that takes away the pain, how ominous to feel contradictions like they were happy pills for a way of survival, that we mellow out this pain but finding release in ritual that is driven by emotion and pleasure, how fear is not only an insecurity but also a super power, that we are always so close and hero, how we choose to see the sky depending on our set mood, vivid vibrations to the mutual intensity we can’t help but feel alive when we bask in glorious deeds, that kind of sensitivity that takes over bodies enough to fuel a curious mind, a captivated feeling a body that can smell where he has been even when he chooses to speak in white lies, but never myself, never this breath, Im not even sad about it anymore its to be expected because when you have spent gazes memorizing the air they breathe and their smell how could you forget, I won’t hope for more, I tell them don’t make light of me, I have breathed of you enough when you choose to be this kind of memory, want a love that can be sparked by the scent of flowers and rays, and watch anxiety and of that boy mist into the air, when you’re this way you start to find ways to let the ocean become kin, so soft and fragile you’re, this is the only familiar you’re scared of letting go, you don’t like the way this illness makes you this unbearable thing that you can brake and spit fire at love only to wish you could swallow your own words how irritating, you’re able to be this honest but forget to soften your tone, to only yell at the mind in code and feel the mind speak back saying you can try explaining it to them but it will only look like an excuse you can not come back from this, so when this oasis hits you’re your own company, and a black hole vacancy that is lost and found inside of its own fable.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

23.10.17
don’t touch me, I don’t like to be touched in the same light that knows no truth about this kind of self, how I fear the things that come this close only to watch them crumble and lie in my eyes is the kind of perfection that knows what malaise looks like, has seen its tears and shed blood for its entrance, speak louder I can’t hear you when you’re this much mute this much hurt, isn’t it funny how I can’t keep opportunity for no longer than a couple of mouths, its all I need to show how much praise attention and compliments, there’s only so much this body can do until it notices its own cracks, see the way it hides self from them, see the way she smiles, she has taken you all for a fool, can you see her, can you see the way she cries about her health like she has control, like her body weak, like what is normal, like she is not normal, look at how she cries for nothing, silly, the way she can’t do life without others, without herself, the way she can’t do life, do you see, she’ll cry for your help behind your back only to tell you she’s okay and she’s done this before, how she holds everything in because her plight is still not understood for herself so why tell those close to her heartbeat, why say anything to anyone when she wants to scream pleas like don’t touch me, I don’t like to be touched in the same light that knows no about this kind of self-, but you never told anyone about this truth so what else were you really expecting.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

23.10.17
Sometimes I imagine being an empty shell, not being able to feel, speak or move, I imagine what its like to be something much less painful, something needed like the rain, I wish I was the rain so that when I feel like it I can cry and they’ll still (need me) call me beautiful and needed