At sunset I followed hope into the night
leading into another day
to take chances in making it better again.
Hope was the moon reflecting
off of the trees,
the darkness took volume to
the lump in my chest.
How can you just “be”
when my limbs are crawling
to retreat from permanent memories;
and what to make of the new?
Maybe the coldness made you safe
from the unfamiliar sun.
Light peeks through the bushes,
replacing the eyes that watched
your every move…
It’s all in this world,
and it’s all in your head.
Plants whither and die and the sky moves on to spring.
Emotionless or indifference.
Sometimes, we as people take emotions for granted. As I model more I realize the emotions that I have trouble expressing are the ones I burry deep inside. Modeling is my tattoo on life. Showing scars I can’t begin to explain unless it’s through art. Therapy is facing the very thing that makes you human.
My anxiety lately has become less shaky and more nauseating. How simple it would be if you would just see me, and I would see you, for what it really once was. We set each other free, and at the same time, we sunk each other deep.
I will be running on caffeine and cigarette dreams for you my love.
I am so in love with you I am making myself sick. And I’m not trying to keep you on my mind, but you won’t leave. No matter what I do, who I do.. It’s been almost two months now, it feels like two years.
This isn’t poetry this time.
I have been thinking a lot lately. Some of the stuff that comes out of my mouth; I wonder what people actually think of me, and then I portray myself to be something outrageous and confident when my words speak differently. Truth is I’m really lost, my mind has many mazes that seem to have no destination, but dangles the prize. Maybe I don’t owe people my thoughts, maybe I just need to hear myself say it out loud to make it real…
And so I remember, I was very reserved and kept to myself. I was mysterious and people really liked/hated that about me. I wrote down all my feelings, and then I could understand why I was feeling a certain way and how I could fix it.
I currently wear my heart on my sleeve, telling my life story to people who don’t let me finish, and then tell me theirs. I’m carrying baggage, and luggage, and only the carry on is mine. I have felt the need to help people with their demons for a long time, hoping that someone would help mine. Even making it really obvious to people that I’m codependent on their words, sometimes their tongues. I’ve made my demons too real, too loud.
In this case, words spoke louder, and my demons took action. They have won. But not for long…
The word of the day is “vulnerable” and I have written this across my forehead for the world to see. And today, this ends, tongues stop, I connect to myself. Let the writing commence.