Wide asleep

When moments of life turn to slumber

And white noise is all that’s heard

The sleepy souls forlorn and overjoyed

Wide asleep leave trace to the outside world.

Empty spaces build up matter

Of a moment just recently past.

And the shrieking and shouting like thunder overpowering

Echo in the resounding calm.

The morning sun masked by the hues

Of blues, ochres and shadowy figures;

What once was vibrant now lay still…

Solitude is darkness’ best friend.

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Something lost

I have lost my poetry,
A piece of me, my soul.
I cannot find it. It has gone
In the deepest trenches, it
Disappeared. I cannot find it.
I search like a madman
In utter desperation for a glance
For a chance to hold it again
I cry. Something lost, someone
Took it from me like a thief.
I cry, my voice took the theif.
Something lost, nowhere to be
Found by me, shall I forfeit. I try
No longer to find poetry. I resign
My soul no longer seeks it.

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Distant Horizons

There was a peacefully distinct gloom only felt after an entire evening of rain. The cold silence only interrupted by intervals of water drops on the rooftop near my window.

The sun is not up yet, my clock still hours away from buzzing. I must have been staring at the silhouette of this strange and unfamiliar room cast by the distant street light almost dying and barely of any use now for hours.

“I should cancel my alarm.” There is no use for it anymore, not from today on.

As though a force moved me, my body gets up not minding the unwelcoming cold. I make my bed, boil some water for coffee and prepare for a shower.

I never liked morning showers but I do it anyway, everyday without fail. Maybe it is out of habit, after all humans are creatures of habit– repeating routine on autopilot as though sleepwalking through life.

I smirk almost scornfully at myself while the water harshly penetrates my skin, stripping it off of any remaining warmth.

“How pathetic.” I came in here to live and yet the first chance I get, I go back to being a robot mindlessly drifting through life, dead though living.

I feel a wave of disappointment crawl through my loins and like clockwork, ten minutes and I am out the bathroom. I wear some clothes and brew my coffee– two spoons of sugar and a creamer.

I almost hurriedly gulped the entire content of the mug but remembered that there is nowhere to go, nothing on the agenda and no place to be.

So I sit anxiously by the window.

Everything I am is still the same, despite the view of the mountains replacing skyscrapers and the smell of flowers substituting the Jasmine-scented Lysol spray I had back home.

“Back home,” I scorned.

“What was I expecting?” Even before my decision to leave, I knew deep down there was no escape to this restless quiet. To this pounding and gnawing, grueling slow dragging feeling inside.

There never was, how foolish. I was hopeful that the change will help me find a miracle cure, that the fresh air will cleanse my insides.

Too much of that “travel not to get lost but to find yourself” Tumblr bullshit.

A new city full of strangers will never provide that for me. Starting over will merely mean the same mistakes in a different place. New people to hurt, a new city to hate.

The coffee has started to taste unbearably bitter and my disdain grew just as the sun started rising.

My muscles are tensing, my neck is rock solid and my jaws start clenching. I forgot to breath.

Anger filled up every crevice of my body like bloodflow.

The sleeplessness and all the moving is starting to keep up with me and now my body, exhausted and tired, tremble uncontrollably. I don’t even have the energy to be angry anymore, I recknoned.

Then it all stops and I felt nothing but a strange peacefulness.

All too sudden and so very different, it was as if I am inhibiting somebody else’s body. I must have died or something. This must be what heaven, if there ever is one, feels like.

And like a hypnosis trance ending with the snap of a finger, I am back in the real world. “Ah, still alive.”

But now it is different… somehow.

“Strange.”

The air started smelling different. Morning flowers are blooming and birds begin chirping.

I noticed a warmth I have not felt in a while– so welcomed by my body, I began to cry. The sunlight penetrated my window and I see the room clearly now.

“How different everything looks in the dark, how very different.”

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