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.

Advertisements

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

Gratitude Diary Entry #ine

“Watch this space, watch her mind make chaos and her hero it back to a kind of superpower, she is the resilient nourishing flower, the sign of hope, the feeling of hope, she is her own hero to this kind of a body that knows very well how to personalize a type of noose, she is the begging saviour a rescue to her own survive, this strong, a type of moonlight, the twin hype to starlight dust, she is learning by herself so well, who else can say they have done this, who else can say they are surviving the smartest organ in their body, who else is this much self-care, tell me who..”

I get a lot of questions about why I go to the city by myself and what I do there, the simplest answer is because sometimes my body likes to be alone.

I’ve been doing this for a while now, and for me personally, its become a little therapeutic in a way. I mean its a way for my body to maybe find calm in its chaos, both inside and outside of the mind. Sometimes I come to the city sit in the library and binge watch anime with snacks like I was at home in my own room except I’m not in my own space. For the longest time now I’ve always found it so fascinating, and also challenging to be comfortable in my own skin, my own body and mental, basically to be my truest self, and every day I am still learning.

I find people intriguing so I go somewhere where there will be new people most every day, somewhere that is not always so familiar because familiar gives me anxiety too. I’m trying to teach my body a type of comfort and calm when I sense a breakdown, and for the first couple of months, I was really struggling to be around myself and come to terms with what was going on, and why I was breaking down. Even though I was not always sure most of the time, the times where I was sure made me feel capable and in control of my own body and mental, even if it meant it was a little or not enough. I started to reward myself for the little victories I made towards my own self-care, and this is how I’ve survived to where I am now.

Being grateful is a beautiful thing. But being grateful for your own care, love, happiness, body, mind, emotions, energy, wins, rewards, failures, existence, survival, space, mental health, your own sense of hope and beliefs is something to truly celebrate the most.

You’re as powerful, loving, resilient, kind and nourishing as your own practiced self-care. And trust me, they will notice it once you start to believe and practice it. You’re worth all the effort ALWAYS.

Today I am grateful for: Today I am grateful for my self-care.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

18.10.17

I’ve come to realise somethings about myself, things that I knew but didn’t know how to explain, it goes something like this, I look at the world the same way I look at people, opportunities, there is never a right or wrong answer but the flood of mental health and personality, sometimes it feels like war between myself and these things, I think about how anxiety has me in this tight grip, noose so personal all of a sudden, how the few stability in my life canΒ subtly be stolen away by something that wants to need this body like the air we breathe, have come to understand that my mental health is also my worst enemy as well as my first love, how it teaches me about self, and love in the same destructive dysfunctional health, the things I never knew about, how it leaves this body feeling weak, surround this being with such careless yet die-hard words that know so well to break this same body down, when you have things like opportunity its strangely painful to witness your body want to suffocate all the breath it has saved, all at once, your body goes into this alternative mode where you start to overthink things like your ability, like how long can you keep this up, like, can you even do this, like you can’t keep up, like, I know you’ve been doing so well that opportunity felt right, felt like opportunity used to smile at you, it felt almost like happy, but you also know how that word doesn’t belong to this body, you felt like for the first time opportunity was something you can handle, but now, you feel like the air you’re breathing is not meant for you, like crying is not a solution and you refuse to give in to such weakness, you start to fight for opportunity and not yourself, also what will happen when your body and the best opportunity for you right now is starting to feel like its slipping away, like in this kind of reality how many times are we meant to let the body win, how many times can we break this body to win in the present, how do we stay this much of alive and fight for opportunity when our body starts crying for help and you start feeling worthless, like mental health is the enemy when you’ve worked so hard for a kind of opportunity just to harshly surrender and fight your own body and mental health at the same time, how do you win when you don’t understand whats going on, when you start feeling sorry for a familiar body, feel each word make aims at the heart, slowly reminding yourself…

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12.10.17 | Incapable of honesty

you know, I look at love and I see where their trying to come from, I see their scars right through their words, there’s this vulnerable intimacy just for a moment and they are able to tell the truth, I’ve noticed it a few times, how love likes to take hearts and hold onto them so that they can use it when necessary, I’ve seen it so many times, I’ve felt how they speak about themselves and such narrative is the kind that cuts through skin, the best kind, the honest type, then they use that same narrative to dip yours and their body in poison, how often they lie and think you do not notice don’t remember that you’re both human and instinct, despite this you also allow them to take over this body sometimes because it feels like a different world when skin and kisses are touched in a kind of way, they are just the right amount of dishonest still, they forget that you have done this before, we all know our worth is as much as our truth, so when we lie we can not expect the truth, when we tell the truth we can not always expect the truth back this, is how you also loose love, you’ll fall out of love vigorously, they don’t understand the unpredictable reality such is too much, and you, you like to take others words and ponder their actions, match the words see the way they lied in front of this honest body to them not malaise, a massacre of torn up recycled truth to them just words, and you, you can’t help but laugh now, because again, this has happened too many times, you’ve seen what it means to love a lie, when you’re not ready for its kind of intensity, when you have watched passion in eyes that wreck with false narrative and actions in case you liked hearing lies you’ll witness what it means when the hearts brakes into two even halves, feel it ache throughout the body that had been taken for a fool, think not much of it, it is a gentle intense reminder of worth in feeling, if you were the honest one you will not regret a moment of your words, to know that you were honest with this kind of body is to love harder and know how to love back, this, is so important.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

5.10.17
flowers..meaning hope

“Watch this season change, this air has a way about its feel,there’s something so captivating about watching the spring, even the rain has a different chime, a voice so sweet in tune with her melody of being animate, how it overwhelms and beautifully whispers its secrets to the rain, without missing a sound only to notice it raining down on her, this is her birth, her other lover is to watch the colours turn into her favorite kinds of adorn, her will is just as commanding, much more fearless than usual, come, a hidden secret that vines her body, listen well, her mental health isn’t so apparent this season, a well kept secret the way the rain loves her back is untouchable, the mind will come to understand that its moments like these that she breathes, she is all types of care free bliss, only this season can give her flowers.” _hope

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

29.9.17 | Dreaming (fable…rain..)

I think as a dreamer type we adore the world from inside of our body, we look at the world as this huge injustice and attempt to do something about it even if that means being consumed by imaginative heroics, we tend to love the time we spend alone doing what we feel like getting lost in our ideal reality to escape actuality, we see the world in so many hues and potential sometimes its hard to deal with, would much rather listen to the rain and beats in a room full of strangers, I like to close my eyes and get lost in a type of feeling that has the ability to soothe a kind of body that knows wars from the inside and compassion for its mental conflict, when I’m this healing I like to think about the people I keep in beat next to my heart and how much love overflows with their name they don’t even know, they wouldn’t dare imagine what kind of secret love I have in high ring into this body for them, will never understand or maybe think too much if they ever dare find out, secrets that are well kept in this body are never told even when love is as much love as rain.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

5.9.17| 18.9.17
A day

If I had it my way, I would space out as much as I wanted and watched the world so capable in my mind, I see the way we like to deflate and synchronize ourselves to norms in order to society so the pressure is worse, if I had it my way we would touch clouds and say nothing, most kind of heaven created with our dream perfect, aren’t we allowed to be as we are and not be afraid of what is normal, aren’t we allowed to be sick and have no one question this state of mind, if I had it my way I make words like happy, like self-love, like self-care, like mental health, like us, dream perfect, we would look at ourselves and see what keeps us alive, smile silly at the world instead of feeling like we’re existing rather than living, if I had it my way I wouldn’t be clinical, I wouldn’t feel sorry for myself because to go through depression is to criticize what is there whether you see it or not, I don’t like the way we hold back our tears and are scared to befriend the ocean why are we so scared of our emotions, I don’t like the way we’ve learnt so well to hide what we can not control, the way we speak about mental health like it doesn’t exist, that we speak about ourselves in lost dreams and memories, my kind of love are the ones that rest on my hips, and dip into something sweet with love for company, its something like purple rain, I know times are changing its time we all reach out, its like waking up to an untouched day everyday, is watching the people I love create and vine into their kind of content, if I had it my way I would space out as much as I wanted and watched the world so capable with the ones I love and not deflate at what is normal, I would watch myself become hero before my own, and watch how love lights me up as their inspire, this is a learnt fearless dream you can not tame flames that have been ignited this beautifully.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.9.17

When your body learns to encrypt and put codes into the body to protect yourself from yourself you slowly learn that there has been a death in this body before, watch how close the mind likes to play tricks on the body trying to expert its codes to find release outside of this body, you’ll find this illness is fast between dreaming fable and lost in the present how confusing it much be to not see what is right in front of you, that we like to call these kinds of secrets evil, there has been malaise here for a long time now, we’ve become so familiar to the way it likes to hide so deep into the body make you forget who you are, and your memory is the blink of a second, only to look in the mirror and find traces of your bodies past its parts in the crators of the eyes, deep set skin aging with forgotten and hidden you didn’t know, you’ll look at the lines in your palms touch your skin like its familiar-, remind me of how much I don’t know about self, a being to this body that it is ill, that we have to write this way to bleed out its words, it has always been this way this was the only way since I was 10, can feel how tight it has been to breathe around here, still ashamed of being this kind of unpleasant, its not normal to be like this, talk to the body in second person, we aren’t allowed to be this weak, dreams that can be caught up in the mind are not the same as the types of malaise that are seen, that scar normally, have always been ashamed of being this kind of existing-, afraid that you’re a lie, that this is all just a dream, it has never been about sympathy, but rather empathy for what can not be completely understood.