Tag Archives: Isolation

The Light I’d Rather Hide

As you stroke the skin of my back

My body shivers

Soul quivering at the impending task ahead

My inner most part thighs tingling painfully

A warmth in my belly travelling downwards freely

The pulse on my neck quickening

My parted lips drawing breaths even more shallowly

Feet pointing

Throat purring

The light of the full moon exposing my naked body

 

Would I end this addictive intrusion to be lonely?

Safe and covered.

With the light of the moon being insignificant to me?

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The Wheatfield

Will I ever truly be free?
To feel the sunshine on my face
And appreciate it without feeling fear?
Fear of my happiness being snatched away
Like the winter brings the night

Will I ever look at the sea
And wonder
Wonder with marvel
at all the colours
that encompass one another and flourish
At the waves causing havoc
Without wishing
to be taken into its depths
And perishing
Amongst creatures and nature that have never known me?

Will I ever look at the birds without envy?
Without jealously calculating
the freedom of their journey
The flow and beauty
of their feathers?
Gliding and swimming
across the sky into oblivion

Will I ever embrace the world around me
Without wanting it
to consume me

Will I ever learn to love
Without wanting
The Love
to devour me

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A Rose In Your Chest…

It’s the voices that plague you

That don’t allow you to relax and breathe

That reminds you of the level of imperfection in your life and creates a pain in your left breast

The voices that reminds you of the lovers that left

The family that are bereft

And the friends that are tired of your stress.

 

Blood trickles out from your ears as you explore your illegal vices

 

Mind burning – A fascinating headache, made beautiful by this inebriation

All in the name of staying strong, your mind goes soft

Slowly turning to mush

And so you handle life in a rush.

 

Erratic turns of your head

As you feel the weight of society in a crush.

Overwhelmed and unfulfilled, you go looking for love.

 

Often finding yourself trapped in a closet, unable to breathe

A self-imposed claustrophobic dream…

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Late Graduation

Going through Primary School, Secondary School, College and University

To suddenly hit regression

To deal with our actual realisations of the world and ourselves

The curse of knowledge can often make one mad and lonely, often carrying our faces in shame, away from supposed loved ones who show no love anyway and disown our name, for we are too bereft of love to be of convenience.

The shame of our life’s failures fuelling our madness and disgrace

 

Pain in knowing those who share similar energies and hearts to us also have problems on the brain. Demons that they chase in vain often their driving force to being sane.

A pain that penetrates the membrane and sometimes manifests itself in the physical realm

 

But there is always that lone stranger.

The one that sees your pain and madness and talks to you whilst sorting out his life’s laundry.

 

This doesn’t take away from the shame but forces you to be proud of it. To wear your scars instead of being plagued by them, so those who spoke in disdain or held their faces in disgrace of you are the same ones to give your fight the energy it needs to be won.

And after the emotional turmoil

After all is said and done

We get down on our knees and cry into our guiding mother’s lap

For all the torture and pain still bore pain

 

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Sylvia’s Basement

A basement below a fully thriving household; a crack exists to let in the light

The inhabitants of the whole street are seen and heard but are unaware of the presence that surveys them.

In this dark, dingy basement, where death is constantly in the air and ruminating in the bones of this isolated individual.

She has lost all feeling, all 5 senses and has become part of the decor

Fading away in the shadows; personality lost to the darkness.

 

The Queen of her darkness killed her. Dragged her by the hair till she was bald; beaten by demons till her skin was bruised inside and out.

 

Her unwanted or unnoticed presence to be tolerated only by her strangling thoughts

Self deprecation is her everlasting presence

 

She wonders if stepping out of this foundation will make her a whole person. Or will its existence always haunt her.

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The Loves: Part Two

Diagnosis 3

The kind of love that sucks and drains you

Like a vampire after your blood.

Consumed in a venus fly-trap.

Your love seeps out of your fingertips.

Your eyes

Your lips

Even as the very breath leaves you

The love leaves too

 

A driving force on its own

Creating on its own.

Creating and destroying powerful bonds across the universe.

 

Licking at your legs like the fire of hell once it leaves you.

So-o good

 

Love soo good it feels like a sin worthy of committing

 

Starving yourself of food and water

In hopes this love will sustain you

Though it controls you

 

You relinquish all power to it the moment you realised it flowed through you

 

This love is like a spirit

 

Like a Siren

 

Calling the possessor of this love to their death

Leading them into the Abyss

Into the den of the wolf, created for their death

 

 

Diagnosis 4

The love as delicate and as beautiful as a rose made of ice

glistening with vulnerability and genteelity.

 

Yet the ice proves to be diamonds.

The hardest rock known to the common man

Only manipulated by high raging temperatures.

Much like when we make love.

 

Our Blood boiling like lava

As if to create a diamond then and there

Deep within us

 

Burning too hot, forming too hard and fast

Creating a beautiful hardness within us

for fear of a beauty like that will never consume us again

 

Hard as a rock

As beautiful as a diamond

Yet still so cold, once all the lava and fervour is gone.

 

Left feeling alone and abandoned

Like a floating poler icecap

Isolated from the rest of its property.

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The Gathering: Consuming Seas

As the moonlight hits the dark inked ocean of my mind and memories

Deep in that sea, under the stars of the night

The fellow mermaids meet.

 

Sirens created through the pain of abuse; shaping and moulding them simultaneously into beauties

 

Now they wear their crowns of thorns and emotional disdain with little to no shame

 

My own crown, made of Ivy, so green it becomes blue or black, if you see me clearly

The Lilies of another mermaid’s wreath comfort me

In our pain we know beauty, but never peace or sleep

For it is when we are full of our sorrows that we return to the curse which is this ocean

Calling out in our pain; yet our vulnerability draws the lust of men

 

In hope that their souls can bring us some worth

Many of us fight as Mermaids for their lusts

 

But as dawn draws near, we often remember the plight of the Siren is already a lost cause

 

So we toy with our prey instead

 

Taking bits and bits of their Freedom, till their weaknesses are exposed and they have no more worth

 

But soon, when the motherly affection of the moon hits the ocean once again, you’ll see the ocean in all its doom and hear our beautiful cries calling you to your death.

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The Loves: Part One

Diagnosis 1

The Love that we love to lust for

That is not truly for us.

 

As careless and carefree as the wind, yet has the ability to fertilise unknowingly and oh so naturally.

 

Not for me

Not for you

Not for us.

It belongs to no one and seeks to travel the world of pleasure; simply for experience rather than gain

For the taste, despite their insatiable hunger

 

This love that is greedy and doesn’t stop wanting your worship

The intensity is equally as aloof as it is clingy

All consuming, like the sea above our heads

Drowning, yet simultaneously swimming towards this treasure chest; of gold and riches unknown

Never quite reaching it

Never quite grasping it

 

But the hope and idea of it keeps us swimming

Treasures that will never truly be ours

This is that type love.

 

Diagnosis 2

This dangerous love.

A one-sided love.

A victim and the criminal love.

Taking advantage and the crying damsel in distress

The Beast raped Beauty in sleep, mentally, but Disney forgets that part of the story

That Beauty – in all of her blissful and willing ignorance – became a slave to beast

To this abusive love

Of the Injured and Insecure; constantly breaking the beautiful, passionate and innocent

All she has is you and your abuse to look to, hoping one day that you will gain humanity

 

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Glittering Corpse

Quivering body in a dark room

The corner, the crevice

Her own personal abyss

Bright skin

Cold, wet dreams. Anxiety ridden with the subconscious’ steam

 

Trying to breathe easy

But existence at the forefront of her mind does not allow her this freedom of mental duty

 

Broken, twisted limbs

Unidentified in the wind

 

A guardian angel’s sniffer dog cannot catch her scent in the wind

The effort seems futile

And so they leave

 

She sees their backs and screams in fear of their departure

But all they hear are sounds of glee

Inciting their fury

They do not know of her insecurity

 

So now once again she is left in the corner, in the crevice, in the abyss

Crying for the last of her sanity not to leave

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Open Museum

Look at her

So sad and so frail

 

All of that mental slave work

Making her pale

 

Rocking and back and forth in a room without a roof

The wind blows

The scales move

 

Her body twitches

Her mind aches

 

But does it matter?

From the front,

All looks safe

 

Her smile is bright

And eyes fake

Florescent lights

You’re the deer

 

For you may see something painful

That enchants and make you fearful

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