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

 

Publicités

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

Writing Mood

When I hear my mother’s snoring and I am still awake, I feel it’s the right time to write. My hands are cold but typing few words will warm them pretty well. So, excited! I am into the writing-my-blog-post-mood which is something exquisite. It’s a way of getting out of an empty black hole that  my subconscious is sucked in. Or, a way of feeding my insatiable and hangry soul of everything literal. I mean , sensually speaking. I indulge in a plain writing experience, in the search of perfection? I don’t know what I am actually looking for, but it’s a kinda way of existing and backing up one’s spirit. Like a journey, I am travelling accross different places of different whethers, tastes, smells, and different people through my letters. I call it, a way of healing souls and minds.

Like magic, I am so horribly attracted to sexy language as a powerful tool to be acknowledged. I think, the way someone relates something which is different from the typical method does make the difference in one’s conscious. Accordingly, playing with words is just like playing with hearts and minds. The way one polishes and embellishes his words can get you in his spell. The mixture of something dark and deep, something devastating and soothing, something killing and enlighting creates a delicious sugary meal of words including some spicy language and salty letters and this makes a super tasty dish, not to be missed!

My subconscious tells me!

What is it about myself feeling perpetual and unstable! Easily moved and influenced, my subconscious always alerts me. How do I react? I simply induge in a complete mood of writing. Mostly, I write about « trivial », common things that happen everyday but we do not recognise them. It is a subtle way of healing that cures my body and my soul. Unconsciously, I dive into a status of blinkness and emptiness and that particular mood harvasts my inner feelings and desires to try out something new. So, I thought about writing whatever comes into my mind instead of taking a pill every moment I don’t feel pretty well.

I decided to weep off the thousands of tears I shed all nights and find out my perfect gateway. Now, careless about what is right or reasonable, I set my dreams, listened to my heart and sail away toward a new discovery. Sometimes, I feel that I didn’t deserve the sad part in my life, sometime i guess I did. It’s complicated, how I feel pethific about myself then enjoying being unlucky at some time. In the end, I guess I could be happier than how i am now, it is just the way I wanted the life i am folding in and the decisions I took that makes me write this way.

Being fake, is not me at all. I am a mere white paper displayed from the outside in the same way as it is from the inside. I love to be loved and flattered while necessary, I love love. Basically, I strive to be happy but I don’t know how. It is ambiguous how I can find pleasure in the same things that makes me sad at some point. So, it is me who is responsible for what makes me happy or sad. I must be honest, I tend to be indulged in sad moments when I could easily be in an outburst happiness and vice versa. It is complicated, I am complicated!

My little bird!

My little bird! I Woke up late in the morning, and my mind is buzzed with many confusing thoughts about you.

I saw my bird flying high through the thick clouds shivering in his yellow feathers. My little bird! Singing hopelessly in the air, I can hear his uncontinuous, hesitated and furious singing . My little bird! Seeing you in the branch of my old tree, gives me frustrating vibes. You are so small to fight in a world of merceless and harshness.

I hug you in my tiny arms unable to hide my concern and anxiety. I am afraid to let you go alone in this big world without my guide. I will pray to see you back soon in my old branch tree, I will pray to let you free. Uncounscious about my inner feelings of happiness and sadness, I decided to free your soul as well as your yellow feathers. I decided to let you fight!

 

 

 

Time is up!

Like  flaoting bubbles, my time is rushing away! I suddenly find myself pondering about nothingness letting my time vanishes in the meaningless. I wonder, how can I plan my day to enjoy every single moment of it. I wake late, eat late, hang out late then eat again late and sleep late. I am LATE!

Running out of time, I decided to set my goals, my dreams, my plans everyday. I decided to change my sinking boat and ride my new ship of dream. About tomorrow? I will play, I will sing and write with fun. I forget about my work, my duties and responsabilities and will dive into a bare mood of craziness.