A dying thing.

I have to wake up, stand up and get dressed.
I have to be early.
I have to smile, talk and laugh with others.
Here, man can never be an island.
I have to sit at my desk and function at my best.
And run when I’m called, have all the answers and be correct.
I have to…be.

I want to pull the duvet over my head as I roll over in bed.
I want the curtains closed tight.
Not a sliver of sunlight.
I want silence, then music.
Alone, alone…alone.
I want to…be.

I need to sleep.
Sleep sleep or final sleep, I’m not sure yet.
I need silence.
The kind that exists within.
The silence of the mind.
That’s what I need.
That’s what I need to…be.

Not working.
Alone.
Maybe dead.

Inktober Day 11: DISEASE

We lie behind our smiles.
Each day is remote.
The motions, we go through them.
Ignoring our aching backs and bleeding feet.
We fight a silent war with ourselves.
We ignore the shortness of breath.
Heaving lungs.
The blood pouring from our eyes.
We ignore the warning signs.
We are dying.
Slowly.
Daily.
Through it all, we still have time to smile.
It’s all lies.

Inktober Day 9: THROW

Bang on my head.
Bang on my heart.
Squeeze out the tender parts of me and make me hard.
Douse the flame of passion in my eyes.
Cut the green love and uproot the tree of words spoken and promises planted.
Tear me down.
Break me to pieces.
Get rid of me.

Inktober Day 7: FANCY

I walk into the room and I see their heads turn. They all want to know who just walked in.

I don’t check for any faces in search of recognition or familiarity; I know that I know one or two people here but they don’t matter right now.

Tonight is all about me.

I access my vanity when my mind has abandoned me for gritty streets and mental bomb-laden journeys.
Today was one of such days so I am armed in my vanity as I take on the night world.

Tonight I was able to walk away from the blade…again. It was a close call this time but even the self that gets locked up when death comes calling had some strength to get me away from the looming end…again.

Praises to the universe for a fighter. Even though I have lost many battles, I always live to fight another day.

So as a celebration of overcoming the grim reaper yet again, I got up off the bathroom floor, washed away the stench of the near-death experience and got dressed.

I adorned myself in my shiniest and gaudiest jewellery, wore my highest heels and tightest dress. I pulled my thickest fur coat from the top shelf were I stashed it and doused my new layers in perfume.
Beholding myself in the mirror, I nodded in pleasure.
This armor has been approved by the gods so I hailed a taxi.

Tonight, is all about victory. Tonight is about me. Tonight, we dance to the gods of our life and laugh at death as we say, “Not today, not today, not today.”

A trail of broken hearts.

He was too old and life took him away.

He was ice to my fire, we would never have lasted.

He was too young and life made us part ways.

We weren’t sure what we wanted so we laid ‘us’ to rest.

She only wanted me in the dark of night; the loudest we got were muffled sounds. We would never have dared for more…it could never have worked.

He loved me and I loved him but my eyes wandered and like a fly, I got caught in a trap. I tore us apart and that was the end.

He really only wanted my body but claimed he loved me. On the steps of the cafeteria he dumped me and let me pick up the pieces of my heart as I made my way back.

He made me feel like his one and only when truly I was the side chick. The truth was my graduation gift from him.

We were a match made in heaven. Lovers that started out as friends. Still, I wasn’t enough but he had the guts to tell me. And just when I thought I could take him back, he died and took a bit of my heart.

He pulled me out of my shell and dared me to try the love thing. But I was a fool. It was simply that side chick business again.

So I vowed to not do it ever again. Then I met her…and she said all the right words and did all the right things and showed me that maybe I’m not all bad.

But now when she asks, “What have I done again?” I shrivel up and another part of me withers away.

…

Am I restless?
Am I hurting?
Am I afraid?
Am I worried?

Is the apprehension normal?
Is it expected?
Has time created this tension so tangible…
That is dizzying and pushes me to the brink?
I am on the edge of a type of madness.
I feel like I brought it upon myself.
I should have done the work,
Before I let myself………

There is this yearning in my soul?
My mind? My heart?
There is a yearning, that much I know
And it is eating me up from inside.

Crying doesn’t help.
Drinking doesn’t either.
I’d smoke but that wouldn’t make a difference…
I am in some kind of handmade hell.

I miss being whole.
I don’t remember being whole.
I just know that where I am now is not it.
So the opposite has to be whole.

Am I restless?
Am I hurting?
Am I afraid?
Am I worried?
You tell me.

A Rainy Day in July

On a rainy day in July, I look out at the dull blue sky.

I think of you and my soul leaps forward, reaching out to yours.

In my head, I hold on to you, pulling you as close to me as possible.

Your head rests on my shoulder and my hands snake around your waist.

I breathe you in, each deep breath held; exhale and repeat it all over again.

The rain falls gently, a cool soft breeze wafts in.

I close my eyes as you traipse the corridors of my mind.

I miss you, words too inadequate to really convey the truth;

Of how I really feel whenever I wish you were beside me.

Sleeping has lost its restful quality,

I just do it because my body requires it.

I long for the day when I can hug you and touch you and kiss you.

I’m on my bed, writing on my computer; images of us together play on the screen of my mind.

The music blasts from my speaker and my head sways to the beat.

I reach out for you, my soul stretching out to yours.

I miss you so much on this rainy day in July.

Fragrance

It precedes you.

It dwells.

It lingers.

And when it’s all gone, I’ll pull from my memory…

The warmth of your fragrance.

Locked In

Locked out of the office.
Locked out of school.
Locked out of the banks,
Malls, cinemas, and pools too.

Locked away from my friends.
Locked away from colleagues.
Locked away from the safety of my basic existence,
Only to be…

Locked in here, alone.
Locked in with my selves.
Locked in and forced to sit still,
My body strangely not yearning for anything else.

Time and day, blur and blend,
I dunno what day it is anymore,
Or when and where each one ends.
And though it feels unsettling, I stand strong.

Locked in but learning me.
Locked in but ironically, free.
Locked in and alone, yes.
But alone, I find I feel my best.

I miss my people, yes I do.
I miss my family, and my lover too.
I miss outside food; locked in I learned I hate to cook.
But in being locked in, I am breathing better too.

Today.

One woke up, mustered the energy to start the day. It took the body to the bathroom, expelled the first pee of the day and shuffled the body into the tub. It cheerily washed the flesh, singing along to music in the head with glee. One toweled down, cleaned out the buccal cavity and conveyed the body for adornment.

One applied moisturiser, deodorant, body mist; upon opening the closet to pick out flesh covering fabric, One was yanked back and securely locked up.

Eight? Four? Not sure which came forth but it’s angry. It hated all the flesh covering fabric, it wanted no part of interacting with the outside world, no work. It wanted darkness and solitude and loud music in the ears. It wanted sleep and silence and nothing.

But, capitalism so Two? Six? Nine? Some of the others skirted around One and got the flesh to move against the Self in control. Things were worn reluctantly, work obligations were moved to the next available human.

The body made it to the office but whichever Self was in control made sure it withdrew the body from others.

Forehead carved into a scowl, lips drawn taut, words mumbled in greeting. The body was forced to hide behind music and quick responses. There was no compassion for people; “I simply do not want to speak today.” “I am here, I just don’t want to talk!” *scribbles words on a sheet of paper*

Time crawled by. Crawled. Slower than a snail even. Time dragged but the clock said it was only three minutes.

“BURN EVERYTHING DOWN!!!” The Self insisted. Theatrics. It knew that in the midst of it all, it was a slave to a larger thing and it could not do more than repel other bodies.

Work day has finally ended. Back in bed. The Self has pushed everyone away, including bae. We have had a few minutes of loud screaming internally. “I am finally losing my mind!” The body head aches.

Inebriation is the only solution.