Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

I had someone who asked me to bare my truth for them in the south, so I read them my poetry, they listened, looked at me and asked why my words feel so sad, I could cry the amount of fight I give my narrative isn’t always this depressing I proclaim my innocence feeling my voice disappear at the very pit of my throat how was I meant to tell a starnger these kinds of truths are hidden meanings of how I survive, I’ve always been scared away from bad first impressions and how we first show love physically, my kin tell me biography of love, I tell them, this is exactly how it should be held and we fall in love all over again, see, when the heart is loved backwords it catches up clearly to the mind, gestrures and glances are not so overseen as heartbeats may think, we women of both rain and fire are a parade of intuition you will attempt to ghost wrongs can’t help put in check the smoke that has been done, cupid can have this cloute too, we women are blessed with sight that could split you two even halfs of each attempt you chose I gave you a chance, my silence for the truth, your silence for my freedom how does it feel you choose your sugar cane once, twice dare three times, a vision has never been such a clear momentum we’re soft worriors survivours of heartbeats when we become sweet for you enough to cavity us both, be careful with her boasting crown, she can very quickly choose you not even a memory, forgotten, like you did not exist in her path to begin there are no more suicides left in vain of your name, let this be truth for loyalty you never really wanted her you chasing sight and whip lashed necks of other crowns while she was searching for your hand, she was right there, take note, just because I do not speak everything I see, how careless, you’ve lost to a silent mind

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Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

asleep.

What happens to the body when you’re emotionally invested in yourself, you’re a sleep walking wake from assumption of how this mentality operates and its been years now who’s counting anymore, I think about ways to brutally grow, then I overthink its outcome, always, something that feels like its right, a place for your heart your mind to rest sometimes, caught sloppy on high ceilings in so much of what is real and what isn’t, this is not to confess that you’ve lost touch of reality, it is to assure you that you have been able to do both, I used to think I only had one touch but I’m quickly realizing all of these self proclaimed one gift is a false limitation, my lack of creativity has been circling my inner universe its exhausting, this is where affirmations are made, spending time with your mental is a portal to an impatient part of not only who you are but what you could become, self-teaching to understand why your heart feels so strongly about love and who you dare let close is a crucial act of selflessness, admitting to your eyes that what you saw was real and listening to its truth because we live in a world where our eyes are not always seen as the truth or the norm so we’ve been taught to see no evil, my body is heavier than I have given it reason, sleepless nights that feel the warmth of the sun rising is both a beautiful capture and an exhausting reality is both a blessing and a demise, I feel so strongly about things that I could cry all the waters, its exactly as dramatic as it sounds I wouldn’t lie about with my bodies worth, there is always flames brewing here, this is just one way to hero my chaos

Entry #12: Gentle Reminder <3

Affirmations made personal

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

 

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

These nights I find my sleep has not changed, my problem has always been the difference between my remedy telling me that it could be my personality and not this illness, sometimes I get confused, I remember my heart broke somewhere between your personality and this illness I can’t remember which part took its own life first, I’m kept awake by the problems with myself that I can not seem to fix that stay with my breath and follow me into bad decisions and lost words that are careless and still know how to break even when they come from kin, you can still taste salt, you forgot why you thought elsewhere in the first place, these things just come out you’re looking for help and guidance most a mouth to band-aid them too, sometimes its so hard to stay soft when you’re this ill and lost, there is no beginning or end, it’s a mix up, a false habit you’re trying to erase out of your system these decisions are still plaguing the body and you’re trying to find the correct outlets but your body just will not survive so you give it what it wants even though you know it will hurt you, you become this light that trusts so tirelessly when you see a temptation a way out, and after all this, you’re are left with its echoing words of what you keep telling this body over and over again, what does self-respect look like when you’re ill and stop being 10g away, how do you get your super powers back when you’re watching a wreckage smoke from the inside, how do you save yourself, what does that look like from inside the burning building, you’re a metaphor for yourself how you excuse these decisions, swear you never meant to hurt the body this way, swear you will not do it again but where does it end where do you stop, where does this kind of harm end for you, have you given up, if not what now, what’s next for a girl who has lived until 23, writes from her bedroom window, cries her own love song, doesn’t change her mistakes, and is trying to survive her mind, what happens now, how does she not give up-. What is your answer? What would you tell her?

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

im i crazy to call identity love.

A self-proclaimed psychosis narration of formatted words to meditate the mind, and at ease the body when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after your blood, breathe, emotion of space that moves within the body is to exhale this frustration of uncomfort attempt to sit with its unjust child like, like adulthood manifested trauma, crazy, another word that is meant for you but is misplaced in connotations, boundaries, and this mental, discomfort, is to sit with it, to watch your own unsolved chaos a black super woman animated hero, like woman like survivor, selflove, you, what is yours, selfcare, you, a super power, irritable irrational behaviors that maneuver in and out of this body like permission to self, like it was normal, what is normal anyway, self, who do I see myself as when and without this state of mind, an actual metaphor of this is the rain, a contradiction of identity and misplaced answers that hit this heavy are to never be forgotten, identity, notice how quick you’re to save your name next to love, identity has always been love, others, there are no others, they are my precious heartbeats each pulse is remembered into my being this way, relationships remind me of flowers in the spring, and the rain, three of my favorite human languages this, its no secret now, habits, loving harder is to admit its self in and out of me these heartstrings are internal external loves, fixing our broken hearts for the sake of our identity, souls, are both in complicated super power love and care, heartbeats is compassionate black super woman a pulsed warning of heartstrings words aimed like identity, self, relationships, always this, it is no secret now, a psychosis narrated formatted words to meditate the mind and at ease the body, when bad days are uncontrollably unpredictable and after you always, always this goes back to love-, lullaby. black woman. identity. heartbeats. and maybe heartstring now too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

its nearly spring.

I’ve always seen myself in different lives, thought about how I could really make a difference in my own way, I’ve thought about what are the chances that we all get into a state of mind that motions our existence how we like to see ourselves how we really see ourselves I think its important to not take opinions that even from our purest depths that choose to eat at this body in sorts of manifestations that are not in correlation of present but past tense and unarmed sometimes, I think balance is a solution to a lot of outcomes, when I think of the narrative surrounding identity its forever entwining with my variables, I’ve learnt that I don’t always have to be strong and who I am is not afraid but has uncanny behaviour that revolves around making kin and those close by my breath feel unbothered by breakdowns that I forget my own body in this space, it had been so long I keep almost forgetting what its like sometimes, when you have tendencies to be cold because you do not understand your own mental you’re practising what its like to be okay forgetting that you’re are an emotionally intelligent being and yes that sometimes means that your smile, your eyes will not match your words but you will still try because you care about how you make kin feel in this presence, you’re trying to break away from the mind and be present, what a contradiction, a life you’re living that is both complicated and compassionate in the same body-, a breakdown. for who. the rain.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19.9.18 | my lover letter

love me harder, I mimic those close to my heartbeat so I can speak their love language too, I invite their souls into my heart tell them, thier hearts are safe here and their mind is free to wonder in my presence I will make them feel light too, I smile so hard at the things that make me the most unhappy because this is a beauty mark I have learnt as a child too, I walk on moondust because I do not feel safe here, my mind is a safe space even though it never lets me rest its thoughts we are constantly in melody of each other about how to love and care for this body the best way we know how, my heart is like spring, if you pay attention to me I am yours until you stop trying, my body has leanrt to hold back and not allow for unworthy heartbeats to form thier presence even when the heart has already mistaken kindness for a pulse, we are not afraid to love but we’re afraid to break into two even halfs, people say we are strong this way too because we have taught the heart what it means to be both fragile and agile in the same beat, this is the best thing we do, when I am not in love, I think about its meaning and rearrange its concerlatons with differnt outcomes and reasons for its ache we’re never safe from its warmth, I tell souls close to me to always choose love but be warry if its teachings, I am not an expert on love just a girl with purple hair who writes crazy love stories to her own warmth; I wonder who will be next.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.8.18 | loading…

There’s nothing more terrifying than yourself, when you reach a space in the mind where your body becomes this conscious unconscious being you’re left in limbo, its been nearly 2 weeks since I have started feeling this disconnected and in search of human touch and allowed for words like resistance, temptation and respect outside of myself, I’m constantly looking for answers in this person and I’m really starting to question whether they can be found only within me, I’m not doubting myself, I’m just trying to understand how it is I can heal through other faucets when these words keep attacking my healing shields, what do you do when you start to fall into obvious low’s when you’re feeling depressed it almost feels like almost nothingness, how do you change the taps to things like temptation and a quick fix I am at a point in my mental where I am realizing that I am not a person of strict routine when it comes to self-care, I mean I’m starting to think that maybe I should try and go back to routine, try to see how it works instead of blindly following help from things that I can not touch, my only problem with routine is that after a while, routine slowly begins to have the opposite effect-, I am still loading…

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.8.18 | honesty’s ego

I have been capitalizing my spare time with chaos and conversation around a type of self that is coming to terms with a truth, ultimately, when you make mistakes in the blood of others you have to be ready for the imploding downfall of its reparations, there is choice with every intention and sometimes we are so quick to choose temptation over what is the right thing to do, when you cross over truth you cannot call on your name whisper sweet words coated in honey even you are capable of sweet talking yourself into clout, you say you favor honesty, be critical about the way you over share yourself this body is both self-destructive and hope encased in flowers in the same algorithm, you, are not safe from your words remember, choice is a repercussion of its representation, be both gentle and careful when you bark at not only yourself but others, do not sweeten your mistake call it for what it is, this, this is how you heal and sugar cane honesty for its true class, be brave enough to allow uncomfortable into honesty’s pride when you misplace your choices into its ego, deem there will always be consequences for its bark, do not make light of its claim, or be ready for its noise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

22.6.18 | a LIVE dream

I’ve been existing and accumulating enough of myself to attempt to understand my two worlds, been at a loss with both sensations both double meanings and its past present form, now its bringing new frame on my clout to its own estranged fantasies, identity has always been a layering conundrum, finding it unfathomable to attach me at such a replaceable pace of words to the parallel of an evolving being, I don’t believe in strict definitions of ourselves when we live in a time warp of unexplored galaxies planets lost spaces enough apart with dream like futuristics you’re capable of being crazy and sane at the same time just the same mind games of what is in fact “normal” and strange to the naked body almost alike, I conclude skies because I believe we’re greater than what already exists, that’s why when I bleed self care and love it is also a sign for the bodies that feel the same ache who struggle to be understood in a world covered with so much mouth and not enough eyes, who fearlessly care for others and forgot about their own breath in the same capacity, empathy can easily turn you into apathy be careful of its schooling, you’re to swear into this body the way it has learnt to adapt in a planet that dose not care about its own healing, lose yourself in minds that explore boundaries from existential bearings these intentions are lacking in both worlds, although the feeling is combined by stranger meanings its masses already stronger and monetized in my dreams before it learns to come to life first, the world is not ready for such love, still suffocating on experiments that are laughable in the presence of those who reap this kind of reward, pause, you’re permission enough-, alive dream.