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#text poem

I don’t like isolation

I idolised it, romanticised it

But cold truths, each revelation

Speak volumes of reality

And I now know

Lonliess, my past consolation

Will leave me to go

Out entombed in obscurity

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often I relish life

cherish every detail

with the desperate need

of one who can’t prevail

sometimes I forget life

blurred vision, tears

in my eyes from the

broken past years

rarely I see life

for what it is: pretty

boring and difficult

with interspersed acceptably

good parts

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Bowl and mirror are one material

Giving back light 

one becomes a mirror 

Aware, one is divine 

unaware, a mere human 

BASAVANNA, 11th century vacana poet, Southern India. 

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When she gets high,

she chases the head rush of

eyes popping free of their lens cap.

Rendering into language. A foreign

concept: body & soul humming in harmony.

A well-oiled machine runs. The good silver only somewhat polished. Silver tongues will always deal in half-promises.

Truth dresses as she does.


Where she unfolds.

Why has no spoken translation.

She is surprised in ways she is not surprised—

A shocking tilt knocking her world axis.

She never knew she was a twin.

Suspended, stasis; a paper crane

twisting within the womb.


Paper Crane

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We all live our lives scattered with elements of control.
Whether you’re the one holding the leash or whether you’re the one in the collar.
You’re in it or under it.
But saying it that way sounds so aggressive, and control doesn’t always feel like a leash, or sound like violence.

Sometimes it’s just the way our emotions flow back and forth, 
maybe in comparison with someone else,
Maybe its just the conflict in your own mind
Theres lapping, soft waves and treacherous storms
Huge waves that engulf everything they come into contact with
Like those specific thoughts in your mind,
The ones you don’t get away from quick enough before they pull you back in
Over and over 
Or that one specific person who doesn’t really ever go away
Because you know the feeling of them is stuck under your skin,
The one you feel even after they’re gone.

Those people always seem to feel like waves to me
Control that they don’t know they possess.
Relentless but unknowing
Passionate but often without reason.


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You inspire me to empty feeling onto paper. Words into sentences. Into building blocks. That usually end up carrying the gaps of what’s left inside my brain.
Often swimming around with intrusive thoughts, itching sensations and tiredness from staying on the planet this long. I don’t know what’s anxiety and what’s not anymore. What makes me tick in that certain way I can’t shake and what makes it all silent.
Every thought, every feeling, they all have the same rise in my chest, where my heart stops and my breath gets locked
It ends.
It all just stops.
Only for a split second. But then we just carry on.
I think I’m adjusted.
Then i’m not.
Sometimes I cry after I realise I feel nothing but the occasional adrenaline rush or, well, i’d say heart skipping a beat panic but its more deafening, blind panic. 
And often fear.
encapsulated. Encapsulated fear.

Sometimes if I think enough I can find emotion under it all but this time around when I did, I don’t know if I want it. 
I want it. I do.
But i’m terrified of it.


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It’s all for you.🌹📝🎶

I posted the link once. Now sometimes I find myself wondering if you’ve ever looked?? Have you read my writings about you?? Have you found my secret little world littered in love notes and red roses?? All for you. A virtual garden constructed out of my desire and longing. Kept alive by the beautiful light you shine down on me daily. Do you know it’s all for you, everything I do. Have you found my happy little hide away plastered with poetry and coved in sweet love melodies. Well if you have then know it’s for you, it’s all for you everything I do. It’s for you.

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