Traces of ache!

The ache in my chest is solid; I can feel it digging hard in my heart. My brain races round and round echoing the sound of tic tac tic tac and my heart pounds loud and loud and I am once again falling asleep in this unfathomable daydream.

I kept asleep, unconscious of my unconsciousness. I kept alarmed and cautious of my pain. A flash of intense pain and ache run through my body when I remember what I don’t want to.

I get bored with all of this and the rubbished kind of my life. As if my lungs cannot breathe in the air and my chest is blocked by a thick and harsh agony. The words are vanishing evaporating from my tongue and I am no longer able to spell, to articulate, to burst!

This impalpable and bitter emotion is stuck in my throat unable to move to come out to free me. I cannot swallow; it feels hard and uncomfortably dry. The hole inside of me is deep and full of shattered hopes and dreams.

A shadow of blackness comes across my mind and I feel dump, dull, dizzy. I don’t feel good; I don’t feel well in anyway. I need to cry with all the strength of my voice. I need to scream in the faces of those admonishing me.

I lie down on my bed and sigh under the duvet and seize the moment. When I try to catch the memory it just drifts away from my reach. I wipe my tears away from my cheeks instantly.

 

 

Sunday is raining

 

When my mouth is set in a straight line

I try to understand

Why I have to say something

I ask myself, if the raining would shut up and let me out

But I have nothing to say

When my mind buzzes with past, old, unwanted thoughts

Whenever I try to speak loud

My tongue is knotted, I cannot spell the word

I am suffocated, I am cut under the spell

My brain is frozen but my fingers are stretched

I asked my blank page to say something, to speak, to write what I can’t

 

In the vain

My coffee is cold now and I am too nonchalent to make another one

I read the paper, the news got me frustrated, I throw the paper

I put on the music stereo, I dance randomly, I don’t follow the rythm

I spit on the ground, I taste awful, I hit the ground by my feet

I write on the blog, I look for words, I cannot find the words

I spit on the ground, I wrapped my hair like a ponytail

I hate cold mornings, I hate frozen food as well

Mom makes me another coffee, mom caresses my head, momy’s hands are gentle

I love my mom’s hands, I love the smell

I check my email, I cannot find new emails, I feel dull

I close my laptop, I close the door, I eat the frozen food

I spit on the ground, I hit the ground, I taste awful, I unlashed my hair

 

 

 

My Winter’s Thrall

Intimidated by Winter’s silence which is suffocating me and all of the evil ghosts hovering in the grey evening sky.

The howling of wind intensifies my solitude and the dim scars of my memories drown me in my bleak desolation.

The naked trees, the gloomy clouds, the wet birds, the fierce waves are wondering at nature’s bareness agonizing me slowly.

Then I find my escape in admiring the barren silence of this misty winter by exposing my inner conflicting pursuits.

I embrace my winter’s grip while hiding my yearnings for bloossom and blooming.

But if I do not appreciate this mysterious, puzzling, empty moment I can never welcome the beauty of my coming season.

For my redeemption from this cursed darkness, I will cherish my bitter sweet winter trills