if i don’t have the guts to die
give me the guts to live
draft from the past
uneasy in my gut,
settling, and spreading
living with a fever,
unapologetically cold,
carelessly high,
in uncontrollable great fervour
to feel, yet to suppress
the numbness
living with a f*ing fever
flashes, they come n go
mind blowing breathless moments
jettison me to
this illusion of self control
i’d lose rapour of an ensnarling past
I’d lose to these technicolor thoughts
thought it
ain’t disturbing ain’t disruptive
cuz what other life’s surprises
could bend me over
the wayward path?
turns out
it’s truncated in power
road less travelled? or road with more baggage?
your weighted choices
my cold wars
unburden me
your unanswered questions
my alienated life
why am i learning to live with a fever
why am i mourning a life unlived
/posting my draft/ 🥺
taking in everything
the good, bad, beguiling
as /natural disasters/
a construct,
silent and seamless
classy, modern art, where the pain(t) ends
overflowing,
i wish the sleepless nights weren’t normal
i wish the harsh conversations weren’t normal
when were these a semblance of life
why am i constantly figuring things out
why do i wish i am more
i want more
we are all just
a little jaded aren’t we
how is it that i think so highly and lowly of myself
like im not sure how else to deal with trauma
like it’s normal
like im healed
becoming who i wna be
by acting as who i wna be
i dont recognise normal
a little outlier
living with the whirlwind
i never wished
the little shrugs add up
only the okays, overflowing
Grip getter
get a grip
on what?
endless manoeuvre of the rules
right way wrong signal
who actually misses?
mindless pumping
on autopilot
for what seems like
manual mistakes
if insanity is senseless to patterns
is sanity responsibility?
what does opportunity even look like?
do i want it enough?
out of it
out of my mind
mind over body
control over mind
self over control
am behind the wheel
grip getter
grind for grit
go(al) getter
do i go on red?
am colour blind
may really said forget everything i think i know
unknown over self
forging of the mind
fake it till i?
but body
feels insane, unknown
whilst unappeased, unforgiving
of the insane
Red
new post
new crisis
will this make me feel better
will this make me better
it’s just these flaky feelings am i right
do we really need to process things
write or some shit
at what point did therapy become a label that slaps
will i get better on my own
well, silk sheets helped
nightmares’ still a bitch
what can i even say at this point
to whoever whatever
just feelings
just, right feelings
feelings fade am i wrong
perhaps all these will eventually go away
when i love myself
red and hard
real and bloody
beating for nobody but i
then these storylines fade
the craziness goes away
the anger seizes to take control
the punchline punches out
nothing to see here
how much more can i bear
if i can’t bear the hatred
can i bear love
that glares
Work of Art
Tuning in
Taking time
Trying again
heavy hearted but here i am
how do i elevate from here
to different panes, new views, sensational breaths
i’ve boxed myself in for so long
hiding, hideous, a humdrum
reliving and living and reliving painful realities
opening and taping and sealing parts
where the memories were
edgy, patchy
sewn too many
a relentless clockwork of processing, healing, repressing, replacing, renewing, failing
what are the steps again?
surprise surprise,
a tasteless basket of fruit painting
hanging,
im parched;
reframing myself at the same windowsill
burns.
i don’t want to live mourning over myself
tripping and grappling and scraping through
how do i lift my feet
and run
where’s the guts
to be
livid, raw, real stunning
to become
a reminder of dewy mornings
am i nothing or
do i have nothing to lose
i have accepted the boxes and baggages
now, how do i stack them and climb?