A Collection of Writings: May 20 – June 25, 2017

Words don’t always come easy to me. There are days that I have to wait and write; some days I need to go out and look; and it’s the rare days that I get to be really creative about writing. Let’s just say I have a permanent writer’s block, and I get lucky in days I don’t have it depressing the shit of me. Because words don’t come easy, I write only a few prompts every now and then. I don’t force things because that’ll only ruin the sincerity of my feelings.

For this week, I am sharing not only my journal but also my feelings. Writers don’t write to feel but because they feel.

Enjoy and please feel free to comment what you think.

Journal 05/21/17 PM UNTITLED

Before my heart can carry all the dead weight of your past, I only ask you to stand by me, lead the way and still the ground because I fear the earth’s quaking is stopping me from taking steps, as if embracing your worries is out of this world – a task they only see as a heavy load I can’t bear.

HAVE I EVER BEEN YOUR DREAM?

Even once? Even once and in a while? I watch you sleep, and I wonder what you dream about as you drift away to an adventure. Do you hold my hand to run a wild escape? Do you shout my name to climb my tower? Do you kiss me to save me from a curse? Even once? Even once and in every while? I watch you wake, and I wish when you do your dream comes true.

Journal 05/28/17 PM “WE ONLY”

We only talk about the extremes that we ignore the in-betweens and the enough. We only go back to the past and blindly rush to the future that we leave the present behind. We only live with what ifs and we dwell in what could have been. Why can’t we just be here, in the moment and breathe? Like one then two and more good and deep breaths to fill our lungs with air? We always look forward and back but never where we actually are. Are we this miserable to lose direction? We dream of true love but we lie to ourselves, wanting more assurances and disbelieving small gestures of kindness. We hurt and call it hell. Help me, help him and help us. I cannot take it anymore. I just want to live.

WHAT DO I KNOW?

Putting my money where my mouth is, a piece of cake, the world is round, and I’m homeless whenever I come home without you.

DAISY

my favorite one
days went by
untethered from sadness

summer and always
a little beauty
bright and lovely

wild you’ve grown
fragile and fleeting
flower of mine

Journal 06/09/17 PM

You will find me along the aisle of hair products. There you see me looking at and smelling shampoo bottles. I can’t explain me and this oddity but I feel pretty.

Journal 06/11/2017 PM UNTITLED

filthy
abandoned
ugly
it happened
and ended

underneath the dirt
fingerprints lie
among them
memories hide

each and every one
a part of a whole
look and smell
listen, touch
as you remember

but tears may fall
as moving on
from history
is never told
as things simply old

Journal 06/13/17 PM “HOWL”

bring the cold night
with you, to you,
and in you, wolf

from the core
of your hungry soul
yearn for me

call on the brush
of the lonely breeze

bathe in the caress
of the moonlight

i, you’re little rabbit
a prey of your heart,
hear you

Journal 06/15/17 PM “WHEN DREAMING”

a needle pricking
against iron wall.

seeking the light
the shadows draw.

journey bound
no return.

an impossible love
— until the red
of spring flowers
grow anew.

for now
is withering.

BEDTIME STORIES

Be afraid naughty kid.
There’s a monster under your bed.
But an adventure is ahead,
and the night is young.
So listen and be all ears.
Wide eyed and holding a breath,
you, sleepy head, will soon be a hero.
Slay the monster with your little hands of a sword!
Roar and yawn!

Journal 06/18/17 PM “RUBY”

Oh, you, a man, know her so well. You call her history colored in glory. You claim you hold power over her but little you know you wield that power in her name, because of her and for her. She is weak and the lesser sex but you shed blood for her. You kneel and weep to appease her, you gamble and lose to please her. She is the light you paint in red — not violence but strength, not pain but warmth, and not cruelty but affection. That what is between her legs you worship as heaven. Those on her bosom the comfort you seek. She lies beneath you but never inferior to you. You know her so well. You know this truth so damn well. You know her name, and it escapes your lips like a whisper of a dying man. So much power she has over you she burns you, consumes all of you. And yet you will die without a single stab of regret. After all she loves you.

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