Dissipation or is it?

This is almost as precarious as a pile of spindly books , stacked carelessly

Almost as weak as a skinny twig , snapping away with a crackle

Almost as brittle as fallen Autumn leaves , crumbling down

As delicate as a fine string of yarn, threads falling apart at the slightest tug

As short-lived as ripples in water, hypnotic just for those few breaths

As fleeting as sighting a shooting star when you were 5, when you simply would not risk looking away from the sky for a second
…worried it might vanish just like that.

Yes, maybe it is all these things.

But, one of these days

Maybe, just maybe it’ll be one of those things fulfilling enough

Like warm sunrays grazing your face on spring mornings

Like sweet wafts of fragrance from beds of Jasmines and Roses

Like the cool azure of a summer sky , greeting and cheerful

Like the green of lush meadows , humble and musical

And I think I might just make it until it is.

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The table talk in my head.

What do you need,
picturing things…
All of this sub conscious contemplating.

I found the key,
its not healthy.
Its potions of magic
just melting to bliss .

I don’t promise you freedom.
I don’t promise you life.
Don’t promise you anything,
I’m not up for any fights.

Maybe take all you have
and smoke it away ,
evaporating to fumey stretches of
this poor escapade.

See, tryin’s no harm ;
this is no alarm.
Walk off the ledge
once a while,
catch the feels.
Bopping your head
to a whole new beat.

Forget all you knew
isn’t this comforting?

Is this working at all?
Did you let yourself go?
If you didn’t then let me take the lead,
guide you up above .

Maybe open your soul
and all that’s left to show.
Dissipating in blinding lights and
shattering into coal.

I dont promise you faith or peace.
I know its getting too hard to breathe

It’s all in your head,
why can’t you see
this inverse operation of rationality ?

Is this What’s got everyone armed to the teeth?

A Questioning Melody.

Feel alone,
but it’s easier than rocking a party
with people all around you
but no one to talk with.

What do you want , what do you want low-key?
Hon , what do you what do you want low-key?

These teeming sensations
penting up in your body.
Your head is a war ground,
this better be starting.

What do you want , what do you want low-key?
what do you want, what do you want, honey?

You cover it up with all those scarves that you love.
With all that denial and that self loathing , hah!
Do you really think this is helping??
Do you really think this is helping??

Cause’ where ever you go,
you drag this around.
It’s like it’s your Ark,
it’s your kingdom of Snow.

Don’t you wonder how to set it free?
Have people thinking this is make believe.

It’s a lot harder to see than it is too feel,
a heartfelt commotion of whole misery.
But you shrug and say , “Oh fine, I’ll be
the hues of gray to all that’s existing.”

You see an escape,
shining aglow.
You wonder if this is
your chance to go.

Then it starts to shrink
as you struggle to breathe.
Should you blame your self or all
these other things?

Oh why is all this so bewildering.
Maybe I should shut my mind out here.

It’s now years from then
and you’re still so close;
Still intertwined in the net that you’ve sewn.

All along into your core it meets
with all the bits and beads that you’re housing.

Anecdotes of survival are all you’ll ever be.
Wonder what it’s like to be living…

Feel your flesh and blood,Β 

is that being free?

Is that being free from misery?

UnCanar-ized

I would call for a hundred canaries,

But I know I don’t want to.

Yell out a hundred notes,

Yet unsung and unheard,

Deeply submerged,

But I know that I don’t want to.

To all of you that feel like you can and you should,

Do it .

Maybe you’ll keep doing it up until you don’t want to,

Or maybe after a while you won’t have to.

Of a little alchemy.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Heal.”

How do you do it? I thought all it took was time and a little clarity.

After copious amounts of both and some extra helpings too, I found myself in fresher abysses, at each turn. They started turning cozy , I even hung on to the comfort.

But I can’t tell if I was ushered out or drawn out.

So tell me , how do you heal?

Of celestial shows and tides.

I must have watched a hundred stars speed across the sky that night;

calmly sniffing at the wafting , fragrant smoke.

I must have smirked to myself a dozen times at the uncertainty,

the paralytic existence that recollections and realizations left me in.

These concrete walls of nothingness and overwhelmingness have me ricocheting.

There is only so much of this that I can take,

or so I have been telling myself for a decade.

In futile attempts of blurting out the emptiness, I must have heaved a thousand times;

squeezed my eyes shut, cradled my ribs,

that night and every night after that.

Will you walk along the beach with me?

With the surf, these tides , the breeze and the sand , gently touching your soul.

Tell me, if you could visualize them,

would this lifetime of memories and reflections of yours be enclosed in an ornate chest,

would they be coral shells , pearls , crystals that you stumbled upon and found , searched and excavated, some of a lesser significance albeit;

perhaps a gloomier section too , with

thorns , rags , dark pebbles ?

But you would have a treasure alright.

Wouldn’t you?

I fear that mine only houses jagged salvages.

Did I trip over and drop it somewhere?

Did I break it somehow?

That’s okay, I guess.

I can still watch the stars race each other.

This time, I promise that I’ll count.