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Sleep is a mistress of whom i wish to break, but such a temptress are they.
They whisper sweet nothings to me, sooth my aches while fanning the flames of my anxieties. They whisper of choices and possibilities, they murmer of joys and woes to come. They squeeze my heart till i can no longer breathe, they soften the agony by humming a wordless tune and luring me to the edge of a floating nothingness.
THEN THEY LEAVE ME WANTING AND ENRAGED AT TWO AM AND I HEAR HIDE NOR HARE OF THEM TILL THE NEXT NIGHT.
I set traps, i lay offerings, somenights i get so frustrated, my mind hanging on threads fraying by the second, that i can do naught more than lock the door and wait.
BUT AS I WATCH HELPLESSLY THEY EXPERTLY DISMANTLE MY TRAPS IN SECONDS, COOING AT MY FEEBLE ATTEMPTS. THEY SPARE ONLY A GLANCE AT WHAT PITIFUL OFFERINGS I CAN SCROUNGE TOGETHER, A NEW ADDITION EVERY NIGHT.
They stroll down to me dawning a ghost of a smile, so faint I wonder if it was ever there to begin. They sit next to me and they whisper. They murmer they hum until i am caught pitifully in the fantasy they craft. The guide me to the floor, i rest my head on the rot, i feel it invading my skull. The promises fall from their lips like wool shedding off to reveal coarse fur.
THEN THEY SIMPLY UNLOCK THE DOOR AND I AM LEFT ONLY WITH MISERY AND THEIR AWFUL VISAGE IN THE WIND.
Now,
I think it may be some form of karma
that I am that turtle
stalled in my journey after I'd only just begun
never knowing what lies in wait across the road.
Life is a highway,
and I am merely the roadkill smeared upon it.
Doesn't a word look weird when we stare at it long enough? Doesn't the alphabet look slightly meaningless when we write it over and over again? Here's one: CLING C-LING, C-L-ING, C-L-I-NG, C-L-I-N-G. Does this make sense? It doesn't sound like a word the more you say it. It doesn't look like a word the more you write it. The curves and strokes, dots and dash!
Isn't it how the name of the people you love changes? At some point, it stops being a name, a word that belongs to them. It becomes a feeling that belongs to you. It stops sounding like a word or a random string of letters. It becomes a string of feelings you cling to when life falls apart. Their name on your phone screen stops looking like a word. Every notification and phone call conjures an image of them looking at you and smiling before you can even look at it twice. That particular string of curves and strokes, dots and dash Once belonged to them and is now beloved by you Which you randomly write in the air because it gives you comfort.
Sometimes we take names for granted without realizing the power it holds. When all it takes is that one word to appear on your screen to get you through another tiring day.
WHAT TO DO WHEN THE DARK STARTS CALLING
Don’t say you’re fine. Every lie amplifies its siren’s call.
Play music. The soft sort. The sort that sounds like lullabies and freedom, maybe a pinch of adrenaline.
Work. Anything is enough to plug your ears, dull the dark’s edge.
Lie. It’ll amplify it, but we’re all masochists here, aren’t we?
Punch something. A wall, maybe. The blood looks like eyes. The pain feels like teeth.
Don’t say you’re fine. Fine doesn’t mean a damn anymore, anyways. It’s a cop out, a run out, a blindfold.
Close your eyes.
Close your ears.
It can’t get you here.
isn’t it strange how you can deem something so precious and beautiful, yet to another it is anything but that?
the sky is overcast and they say it is cold and dull and ugly. yet you say that it is captivating, the way the clouds curve, the way the colors blend from earth and sky.
a person is trans and they say it is wrong and unjust. yet you say, “how wonderful it is that there are so many ways to be a person- to be alive!”
a poem, a story, a song, a piece of work that you yourself bled out from your beating heart- you hold it dear and it is glorious. yet they brush it aside, they say it was better left undone, better left in the despairing confines of a bin.
alas that there should be such distaste in the world that words of hate fall freely from peoples lips- they deem that they have no consequences, though the thorns bury deep and the wound may fester.
and so, my dear friends, though their words may be sharp and their tone unloving, adore what you adore. do not let their hate infect your heart. tred on life’s path with curiosity and wonder and love that overflows so that the burden of humanity upon this world is softened.