A Hole in the Heart of the Earth

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I am just realizing that I’ve had a hole in my heart for a very long time. It didn’t fill up with the time that has passed, like I had thought earlier it would, and now i know it never will until I fill it myself. Stuff it with all the discarded waste in the world, from sawdust, rusk, vegetable peels, wasted bones from the butcher’s shop, dead bodies from wars, and all this will never have made any sense to me, how i’ll know, it will never be enough, and I will need to always press in more and more, if need be, barbarically jump on the filling and jump until everything is well in place until there is no more place for anymore stuffing, then pour cement over it. This hole i speak of, angry and obstinate, hungers for more, eats everything thrown in it, like a drainage basin, always empty. Sub holes, now, that i need to worry about. But can I? Don’t i already know where the holes all lead to? I need to die. Then the sea will finally fall quiet. And the howling beasts’ cries will begin to fade….

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Of Addictions and Cravings

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quill

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So how does one get out of something like an addiction?

The smoke that fills the room intoxicating time to bend,

Dancing on the floors in little twirls, to seduce will to decay…

The ever growing appetite calling on the blender to hurry.

There’re going to be guests in the house of the old man.

Few words spoken amidst the thousand candleflames chuckling

The noises whispering with the dusty old glassware and cutlery.

The wines will be flowing, the grapes crushed for the bees.

His old beloved’s had plunged down from a lofty cliff.

The smoke’s been burning thus for years and years,

The wines flowing, and all the wax finery will one day melt,

The ground, where everything always find a way to return.

What hope does he have, or what hope befell on these,

Little hearts so torn up to not understand these tragedies.

That chance, mere chance begot them of…?

What of the orchid flowers of temptation,

The sin that offer a heaven of forgetfulness and fantasy?

But in the drizzle of your paradise you’re washed clean,

Of having committed prostitution with death.

Addiction is bad they say, it makes you live a lie!

I say being good, you’re not living the truth either.

Death is inevitable, the day will come we’ll give up anyway.

Being good, you’ll hurt more lives at the end.

Or die scared to death, reality was not real,

Stuck in an asylum you’ll wonder if people weren’t real.

You’re the single human prototype stuck in a virtual illusion.

Some stupid experiment in a stuck up madman’s lab,

Who calls himself God.

Do you want to get out of misery, take the first step soon,

And ask yourself for the truth, and ask a thousand more times.

The scary truth is inevitable, because you’ve known it all along.

Something you can never give up on, cuz’ you’re just hooked on.

Forever and ever. And you don’t care if you don’t win it there.

And still, you just can’t give up. Can you?

Obsession, you call it, I call it love. Just love.

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At last, but what happens to the one who gives up on life,

Fearing that she’ll end up loving living it too much?

Unbound

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Spirit weakens and spirit strengthens.

Floods that wash away banks and hearths,
Also gives birth to new lands of fertile silt.
Air gives life, and air takes it.
One day the earth’s hunch-backed spine shakes,
For which we cannot protest, since,
It has borne life for millions of yeas with patience,
Offering seeds of fruition and nurture.
Engulfing fire razes down a mansion,
Not considering any plea, nor justice.
And yet, every last hope is placed,
Upon the fire burning in a home…

In Transition

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**NOTE: Read it with empathy.**
Tonight, my hand shakes.
I cannot hold my pen,
Nor can I type.
I cannot write!
.
Tonight nothing can help me,
No, I am not drunk, not even a little.
I am not high, and the ones who make me
Aren’t here. Cheers on their divine names.
.
I and hypocrisy have a long nemesis,
Tonight I am avenging my cause–
All those nights of tempestuous overtures,
And torments for self containment.
.
Hot, prickling, irksome — tears moisten my cursed lashes.
The broken dreams, like glass, jabs mercilessly into my flesh.
When I think and realise, revenges are going nowhere,
When it comes down to those, whose against I stand.
.
Love, that once washed inside me, like a flooded river,
Is slowly molding into a separate earth. Of cold stone.
But still in the deeps, love boils and spits, like an ominous volcano.
One passionate quake, and the rocks would all collapse…
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But I cannot lose this war, I cannot!
Cannot let the rocks collapse…cannot let myself hope again.
(As if I can hold back such a phenomenon!)
Because, it’s me, and it’s always been me, I cannot write!
.
Untouched. Forsaken, I’ll remain, frozen.
Waiting for my love to die. But also hoping, he’d give in,
And the cracked earth will soak in the tempest,
Slaking the eternal thirst of the dry, scorched rocks.
.
Smothering the love…
Dammit, fantasies again!
I cannot write!
I just cannot.

Airy Dreams

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I share a different bond with air.
It unleashes the fire within me,
Releases the sleeping immortal being,
From the debris of inevitable human disappointments…
Under a starry sky, illuminated by,
The thousands of city lights so down below.
Suddenly a kite soars overhead,
Stealing my mind to the vast universe lying out there.
Which will take into its heart of darkness, my passions laid bare…
One bright star there, or three more.
I can never touch them, but nevertheless,
It makes me dream, someday, someday,
I would want those dreams to come true.
This earth disappoints, maybe another wouldn’t.
Winds took the kite there, the dreams took me…
Winds never did leave me.