THE MEMOIRS

Chapter One

1. States and Stature: Statued
2. Harmony to Purify the Past
3. Ego Destruction and Rebuilding from the Existential Crises
4. Opening Out After My Heart Closed Shut
   
5. Falling In and Out

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Prologue

Hazily dazed sleeping through awakening, one drifts between Men, Women and Mother Nature.

• How to order one’s rambling perception shifts.. ? 
• How to release the ‘need’ for control over something that can only ever be altered.. ?
• How to contain chaos.. ?

The mind has been torn between more than emotion and much more than the physical. And so this purely literal form of sensory memoirs’ move in and out of different states of consciousness, deeper than the language of thought.

• [Note that often wikipedia is hyperlinked, due to the quickly understood and relatively accurate (depending on the page’s sources) layout of textual wisdom.]

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States and Stature: Statued.

I envision the U.S. in particular, seeping out a tightly feared grip leaking marching men to and fro, trails from their homeland, from their homes, into the dug out trails within another nation, into the homes of innocence; piercing authority into questioning hearts of innocent lives.
Army barracks are constantly occupied, and submerged nukes are known to hide under the ocean’s blanket, with aircraft carriers afloat and prepared to devastate any threat toward ‘the homeland’. Governing forces surround and control to intimidate and wean the flow traded wealth from hostile neighbours. Peace and unity are severely weighted within the pressures of fear backed power.

But who truly is the enemy on this one planet; our beautiful birthplace?

Why have we struck down our sacred Earth?

If we awoke to effectively understand another, to evolve past detrimental ‘defence’ spending, along with the aid of the 263 or so trillionairs on Earth to promote the propagation of appreciated love as ONE. That self care, viewing the self as each and every other, would that not be a war worth fighting for? Would that not be a purity worth dying for?

Now I once again find myself sifting through the sun stroked hourglass to focus my vision upon the present being’s moment to question my self: who are the wicked infidels or terrorists in this world? See Red Army Faction

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Harmony to Purify the Past

Connection with the True Guises of Nature’s lively essence, giving from within to those needingly without, will evolve this strangely scientific and spiritual existence. Improperly released physical or emotional aggression seems to be caused by both our natural instincts and learnt human conditions. Wisdom grows from our birthed DNA and our environmental pathways which destiny guides us to experience.

It appears that those lashing outwards, in frustrated pent-up anger, whip a causal roped chain, stemming from fear and misunderstanding. And those lashing themselves inwards do so from the same fear and misunderstanding of judgement.

Who is the judge and who is prepared to be the guilt ridden executioner? What is a uniform: regarding all schools (of perception), through all army attires, designed to distinguish friend from foe and to blur the eyes of the assailant in war?

With almost the entire population believing in God (in one form), and willing to sacrifice their lives for war they are lead to believe in, fighting for something worth more than their existence, one has to truly question: which war is worth fighting for, which is worth dying for and most importantly, which war is worth living for? Collect the hunted carcuses of your brothers and sisters, take them to the fatherland of your birth and let us and them be at one with Mother Nature. This fertilises your children, with your family extending out past your homes. Your neighbour is not separated by walls, fences, borders, land, ocean, species and cultural barriers. We can preach with loving understanding whilst faithfully united to forgive our historical wars, regardless as to whether disputes were isolated or massive. God is one, one is God. Who are ‘we’ without each other but our fallen, grave brethren?

All forms of love for one another burst through the heart, but feeling the spirit’s heart being beaten begins from spiralling doubt – about one’s ability to understand emotive sensual communication. Both the dynamic realms of our suffering and selfish greed are tests which teach our heart to pump forward and our ego to rebuild into our purer identity. Eventually, the United goal is to become selflessly faithful to all other lively essences.

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Ego Destruction and Rebuilding from the Existential Crises

The rippling purification of ‘my’ self, through the testing times and my curious drive to feel everything possible, have led me to various experiences in rebuilding one’s identity through the unique degrees and pathways to Ego Death. One’s identity through both connection and attraction can only be found after rebirth. My body recalls achieving this through combinations of plants, chemicals, swaying moods across time and contentness with your spatially drifting surroundings and states. Notable experiences in this body’s lifetime included Marijuana+MDMA, DMT, Salvia, DOI, LSD, 2CI, 2cb, Peyote, Stimulants and Modafanil).

Destruction’s Aftermath

After losing all the past’s conditioned notions about my own identity internally, I began to rebuild from judging externally: what I liked, I aspired to be like.

They were perhaps necessary or destined for me to become one; intertwined with flowing love between plants, animals and the entire essence of this Kingdoms embodiment, with the present of flowing consciousness within All, throughout all, to clutch at the notion of chaos and eternity.

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Opening Out After My Heart Closed Shut

And if time seems to snap freeze one lone self in a deeper dream-like bubble; one becomes disassociated and isolated from relative waves of love through other lively dimensions.

Falling through an opening of harmonious interactions, as vibrations which echoed out across 13 dimensional planar-like ripples, my growing awareness of emotional heart ache and physical sense awareness through my body’s use and abuse guided me heavily to a need. I needed to avoid the constantly lightning sparked pain acrosd synaptic nerve endings by my own feelings, to connect shocking pathways and re-map the intricate network of my universally expanding flesh circuitry.

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Falling In and Out

Spinning strings, vibrating harmoniously in rythms lined to pulses of (more than) aesthetic fields. The system’s faith birthed from and held within a series of elemental flaming batteries; every form of energy flows through in mysterious essence. But then, destiny’s fear stroke me down and I spun, I spun, I spun and I became the sacrificial lamb of God.. Being beckoned into the abattoir after my Father was slaughtered in His temple.

After the death of time, one feels frozen in a desperation to love and hold, with all variations of crushed love splintered through the soul; as pressurised sands spark into the hand within their lover’s grip; before or after they slip. But the looping sway of the pendulums’ rays hold the moon’s golden priestess in a wedded spin, as each planet dances with the centrifugal honey hold. And that cuddled bond becomes swept apart only when the Sun is eclipsed by the black shadowing abyss. And the inferno’s pits within the abyss… It ripped and pillaged me into an unstable rage, only from the unfathomably sickening, twisted torture through evil twisted rape. And, I would do it all again for any One of you to escape the Devil’s scathing pains.

In the midst of it all a religious father told me, inside a ‘mental’ asylum, that sanity was just a different aspect of the consciousness. He gave me a bible and said “don’t read the words in red, that’s what Jesus said.

And so, the descent deepened…

The Damned Rose.

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To be followed by Chapter Two of “THE MEMOIRS” shortly…

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Diary Entry

Secretly Saturated in the First Embers of Majesty

 

Part 1       

♣   Enigma   ♣

 

It’s history so effervescently drenched,
our Earth, once fresh, green and lush 
was now deeply immersed in societal ego: 
warped by the crowd’s blank hush. 

The Engulfer:  
A Super Massive Black Hole.. 
Within its biding bubble
of imprisoning blindness 
exists a swarming sphere,
deforming space-time in silence,
and cleaving its feast apart
inside a stretched out mind, with its clock stuck outside of time.

Could it be a portal..? 
Possibly to reappear,
but firstly you’d be frozen
as a spaghettified smear.  
It’s suction looms
before the grande stage center,  
overwhelming intricate solar systems
with it’s awe filling power
and mystical wonder. 

It slowly feeds upon the spin
of man-made smog,
forever rushing cities
and the dusty bloom of sprinkled stars;
all inexorably wound 
in the vicariously
four dimensional
floating dance,
inevitably bound
to the laws
of micro-processes.

 

The Infinite Envied the Finite – the Finite Admired The Infinite

The pushing of the-bow; held by the entanglement of its strings,
had its repulsion counteracted
with the same pulling desire
that allured and burnt Icarus. 

Only this time, Icarus fell patiently; accelerating into a massively small black marble.
The two opposing forces, working together,
created immaculately intertwined music,
alive with Genius far beyond the capabilities of any life-form;

The Finale will end in either
a spacious distancing between objects and events,
or a crunching contraction where the same energy and matter
from the Big Bang would push together to draw in a gigantic cosmic Phoenix,
to re-birth the Universe’s cyclical, eternal life once again;
independent of time or laws within a vast cauldron of immense flame
and chaos, but with a different beautifully unpredictable consequence
for each and every condition in the next Big Bang.

Perhaps if that cycle happens enough eternally, the Big Bang will happen again and we will be born in these exact bodies.

♣

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Part  2

 

♠   Dawn’s Golden Priestess and Her Majesty   ♠

Our creator drifts
the shimmering pixies
off behind the sparkles
on a street-lit hillside,
which was secretly saturated
in the first embers of Majesty.
But Dawn’s Golden Priestess
simply lay dormant to the eyes
controlled by Earth’s low perceivers,
yet  she captivated the curiosity of those
up high on the hillside
(having been granted the gift of appreciation).

She perched her beauty
behind the surrounding
circumference of emerging hilltops,
revealing the jagged slopes of valleys
formed long ago by swaying streams
in an unseen or forgotten history.
Soft flowing friction would once
splash and spill the brushing ebb
of the water against and into the hills. 

Always..
All of nature’s energy
will be conserved and transferred
across all of life
and (just as importantly)
across non-life forms too.
The carved out dimples
on the timeless mountainside 
were reminders of impact and time,
littered with ageing life-forms,
underneath shadow’s blanket.
People lived at various altitudes,
seeking life’s comfort; 
a motive driven by the fear of
that which is not yet known.

Particles that had been clumped
inside the pull of past stars,
burst and wound
slowly moving
plates and mounds.
The city beneath was surrounded
by collaring dirt heaps..
the citizens felt protected against 
Her Majesty’s lightened crest ablaze.
Then the blackness faded  it’s twinkling
white pins into the midst beneath
its navy over-thrower.

But the spectral acceleration
of the sky’s fluctuating pigment
was apparently just an illusion..
Is all knowledge truly desirable?
Are some illusions better off illusive?

♠

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Part 3

 

♦   Duality’s Jewels   ♦

 

In the trees and wires, nature,
formed by life and non-life alike,
was respectfully playing together 
with overlapping harmony.
Rainbow Lorikeets
foresaw the golden pour,
whilst waiting for
the Earth’s final twirl
to be night time’s ouster.

After watching this scene,
alone, through time,
and being aware
of the slightest alterations
in each bird’s whistle,
I tune in and wonder why
they call to each other so often.
I wonder why they are motivated
to fill the air with a tiny,
finite product of themselves,
before the answer arises
with the same respect
I pay to my curious senses….

Then the deep blue sky pit
became streaked with green-blue
curving flames seething in a sea
lit by the bright orange hair
of the Sun’s rising fullness,
which quickly lifted up the
curtain of darkness,
revealing a soft pastel aura
which smoothed fast minds 
and settled worried eyes.

♦

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Part 4

 

♥   Glow   ♥

 

And as I see all that I see,
I feel for you nicely.
And as I think, 
all that I pretend not to think,
I wish and long
for love’s deepening song,
but I think of you graciously.
I had never missed your Majesty so much,
and night seemed to last forever too long.
I wanted you as much as I want life,
but I cannot dance my life with you.
With every trillion particles within my body,
I am gravitated toward you.. 
And even though you are not throwing
your arms around my shoulders
to be passionately lifted into the soft air,
I think of you beautifully.
And while I will never again
miss somebody..
because I do not want to,
because I will not let myself,
simply because my heart will not open;
every pump expiring
upon a white porcelain plate
before a card that reads: ‘Estefanía’ 
I will look after myself by appreciating
the all encompassing glory of life.

With so much vibrant passion
within and without me,
brought by the first glow
since Summer’s remnants,
I am intensely thankful
to be blessed with everything I have.

At that very moment, 
colour splashed wings
lift a pair of lovers before me,
and they drift together
in the faint stir within
the warm Spring breeze.

And though I wish you were here,
and while I so deeply miss you,
I will naturally think of you
when I admire true beauty.

♥

---

 

Seasonal Masquerades

The gentle flowing air seems to be filled with the smell of long-awaited sunlight. But the forgotten Sun’s glow is simply the most obvious characteristic about the unusually vibrant pond, which keeps immersing me in a relaxed cosmic giggle. Inspecting further, I focus on the smell of freshly cut grass, blending with the assorted array of blossoming floral arrangements. So many new smells come on offer simultaneously. The seeds of the various widely weaving life cycles become rooted in my unconscious mind; engulfed by pollen’s airy flight with a soundtrack of mating calls from the Earth’s unappreciated minds. Warming vents concoct together in the twirling wind: my nostrils flare to process the intake of springing flair. The rare scents from all neighbouring ecosystems are connected through vortexes with fragile suction, driven by unseen draughts of convecting currents.

Spring’s Soft Dreamy Flicking
The seasonal drift
brews and lifts
aromatic effervescence
to the smooth refreshing breeze
which brushes the heavenly mixed
natural perfume beneath
inhaling nostrils; unprepared
for their sensory feast.
Some noses bunch and quiver,
and with a blessed sneeze, freed from allergy’s fever.

The olfactory sensors have been fully quenched,
ever since the primary inhalation of morning’s
fragrantly drenched, refreshing breathe,
as bodies wake their minds by stretching and yawning.

Maroon streaked eyelid panes open cautiously,
while photon beams reflect off white pudgy gelatine,
refracting within black pupil twins, protected as pins:
aware of night’s recent wandering spin,
warned by the dreamy warm feeling
resting on lightly baked, blinking lids.

Springtime has finally gathered the courage to reveal itself (the long cold Winter was too dampening). For me, it feels like everything good and beautiful that we all seemingly feel (in due time) has caught up to me all at once. Oh stay forever, close to my heart: those constantly random, numerous bursts of bliss had been lacking on this side of the equator. Then all of a sudden, life births a new verse of gleeful chirping and the cosmos is perfectly in love with the world once more. Gentle honey flow, you are more than welcome to linger!

Diary Entries – on Love’s Reflections

Upon reflections…

There was such a bristling rush at the time
you and I were brought together.
I lost track in assuming
it would last closer to forever.

At the time, it all slipped from
the reach of appreciation.
None of the moments or feelings
from the honeymoon stage in
our relationship were
appreciated fully..

Without stopping,
I’d always rather airy cloud-hopping.
oah! To go overseas to see you
so unplanned, so quickly,
was so lightly carefree;
sweet and refreshing.

All of it
was spinning so fast,
but falling into a determined place.
Vibrating in unison,
it was all dancing with everything:

The plans and the
necessary tasks to
merge goals with reality.
The dynamics between two people’s
adjustment to the comforting.
The phone call routine,
which was never obligatory,
although at first you were
so worried about forcing me.
But I felt so much bliss from being smitten.
And you truly felt like an exciting adventure.

Honey

The sped up heart beat
so often accompanied
by excited jolts that
pulsed up the chest,
sparking newly growing
fairy (tale) floss:
a silk cocoon
constantly glowing.

Those passionate butterflies
felt like a hot air balloon 
was floating my heart up
through slow running
honeyfalls, 
to rest in my warmed
throat’s nest.

---

Upon Reflections.. Continued

I flew over to see you. When I arrived at the airport you were an hour early just standing there gathering your composure. Then you saw me, your eyes sparkled off your dark features, and I was looking at you; the woman I was about to fall truly in love with. I hadn’t seen you in 2 years and you were filled with nervous excitement, because you wanted to make a good impression. You wanted me so desperately.. You always had. You told me initially, that you felt like you were drawn to me because we were meant to be, and that you felt it was crazy enough that you even admitted that. And while I didn’t feel the same way, I thought you were such a beautiful girl. Now, upon reflection perhaps you only wanted me so badly because I chose somebody else over you. But I would have had to go through hell by missing you. The next time around, when I made that decision to enter the unknown, I thought that

  “It’s better to love and lose, than not at all.

…Right?????”

---

Inflamed

I thought that
true love’s blessings
would have lingered..
You brought them
to my table.
Vanished in
thin air
they disappeared,
with crumpling
suction: disabled.
I pathetically
turn the maple
syrup away from
my gaze; unstabled
(‘Tania’ was
written in pretty
red cursive
on the label).

The grief
dragged my body
so heavily downward
and ripped my mind,
with rippled
echoing inward.
Haunting me,
your ghosting memory
aimlessly
triggered my thought
constantly.
The thing is,
there seems to be
a problem existing.
Every single time
I find myself
reminiscing,
the pictures
I have been
so desperately missing,
are unmarked,
unfaded and
in need of
replacement.

I see
paint brushed scenery..
Colourful slideshows
portray portraits
of your memory,
which still
haven’t reached
their performance finale,
to be taken down
from my mind’s
blackboard display screen.
Behind the
lids of my eyes
I watch you lie
against the backdrop
of  the San Carlos Sea.
Laced by the ocean’s
surroundings,
flicking aside
windy whipped waves:
your curled locks
are heavily bouncing.
Red rocky cliffs,
cacti and
unusual dune mountains
sit above the
reflective strands
of your shining
brown auburn.
Your smooth light legs
are gripped by the sand
which shaves to sheets
in your gliding hand,
sprinkling across your palm.
Later, you’re asking me
to help you sleep
by lightly playing
with your hair.
You see,
all of it remains
so crystalline clearly
(within)
except the feeling
of my fingertips
on your soft, sweet skin
and the alluringly
fragrant balm
I became
inflamed in.

---

Vice Strangle

Orchestrated pain
grips hard
on an esophagus –
recognising trembling
prey, afraid.
It strangles me
to death
almost,
greedily wrapping up
my throat
in hope of
gasping tears and
spluttering chokes.
I have been wrung
like a dry, stiff towel
that’s still being
twisted further.
A tightly weaved,
curling snake of
knots ‘n’ knurls
curving.
Filaments make up
the latticework fiber,
but wound threads rip from
blistering  friction,
ground and split:
the asphyxiated
mist of
dehydrated powder.
The ringing toll of the bell,
from the tower, hourly
isn’t shocking or
surprising, as
it’s expected, through
conditioning.
Similarly, the strangler beneath
shadows’ eerie cloaking,
wears  nail polish, glowing,
descending its
precise fingers slowly.
Sweeping across
a bare rattling body,
it swarms with the surge
of a thunder
storm; blinding.
I still feel the warmth
that passion had brought me,
lost to the cold strangle
now surrounding
my throat’s walls,
deepening
gloves grip:
squeezing
to see if
I’m worth
anything
at all.
So this is what it feels like
to have your whole heart ripped:
the shredded flaps
balancing
on flesh stilts
because of
knife punctured slits.
It somehow survives
albeit dangerously frayed,
becoming engorged
with nothing but
dark flowing enrage,
in pursuit of a remedy
to waste
stretched-armed longing:
a long lost war’s
battle scar storage.

You were so knowingly vicious.

Yet, still, now,
surprisingly,

I adore you.

I know it sounds so fucking ridiculous.

Time’s tick tuned me toward the immense power of the cosmic slip. Powerlessly overshadowed by the unwinding reel, purpose is hiding it’s finding: so curiously concealed. We think up dimensions, chemicals flow all the time, purpose really feels real, but neurons fire up the mind. Our free-will is just masked by material mindset. Meat machinery forms the mind, but where is the soul kept? Choice: seen as sludge which slides as it slips, with stretched hands ‘n’ quivering digits, we flail to resist. We, the non-controlling, hold pale pressing grip. With whirlwind worry stringing tension, the pressure vice grips. Tick. Clutching, clenching. grasping and clasping (so desperately). Tick. Living selfishly and always so stupidly dazed, dressed up we become so stressed and so strained. Near the end we will slip off insane looming cliffs: face the thoughts we once felt but our ego had hid. There’s a choice we once voiced, but never did it click: should we become ground compost or roast in the fire pit? Moments fall as they’re wasted But we don’t know how to stop, momentum swings the clock forward and then comes the….

tock

---

 

KISSING HER

Preparing for a graduation, a sweet pixie flew over to me. She fixed my tie, looked into my eyes, smoothed my blazer and pulled on the strings of my heart (which I thought were not pull-able). I met the purest of souls in the most unlikely place.

Her friends didn’t pick her up for a gig, so I asked her to come out for a drink. As we got into my car I showed her my Tokimonsta record (within the same genre as the artist she was supposed to be seeing). While driving us there I wanted to kiss her whenever I looked her way.

We bumped into some friends and eventually ended up at Soundpond to watch some live gig.

In the dimly lit room, I brought my drink over to them and sat down next to her.

We were talking and all of a sudden (I didn’t even mean to blurt it out), I looked into her blue eyes and asked

      “Would you go on a date with me some time?”

“Yes. Yes I would go on a date with you”, she replied, slightly humored by my advance.

      “Would you kiss me?”

She looked at me with a mix of surprise and desire, leaned in at the same time as I did, and we lightly pressed our lips together.

---

KISSING HER

Lips locking, brushing, softly tugging to a live soundtrack of reverberated guitar chords

flowing unsteadily to the pulse of filtered drums,

I wasn’t thinking about the shoe-gazing music, I wasn’t thinking at all.

Occasionally gazing at her lips, was an exception, for my eyes were comfortably closed.

I could feel the pulse of her instead; the flow of our intertwining frequencies, souls and hearts.

No thoughts, just feelings; both physical and surprisingly emotional:

an attraction born without ultimate cause.

Desire was flooding me, rendering me helpless to the wants that were engulfing me.

This was illuminating.

The pure light was a halo that contagiously spread a warm glow into everything surrounding her.

And I became caught in that contagious mist which mystified me beyond belief.

Feeling our lips pushing softly, I was so alive!

I felt my lips indenting and I too pressed gentle dents into hers,

while both of our bodies were radiating the heat of passion into each other’s soul.

Nipping her lips, pursing then relaxing, I kissed then was kissed.

It cannot be described with words, the beauty was emanating much too beautifully.

Unconsciously I was brushing my fingers on her knee and thigh,

resting my other hand on her side and back.

My fingers were grasping and stroking, almost massaging her to the same rhythm

of our squeezing lips and swaying heads.

Briefly stopping, she said something about P.D.A. as she looked to her peripheral

I looked at her in awe; admiration for her (and the moment)

would have beamed out my heart’s truth unmistakably, through adoring eyes.

I was smiling as I muttered “who cares?”.

I slipped my hand up her arm, brushed her shoulder

and rested my fingers on the back of her neck.

I looked into her eyes, broadened my gaze to take in the full beauty of her face,

focused on her bottom lip, leant forward, closed my eyes

and gently pulled on her neck so that I knew where to meet her lips.

My top and bottom lips covered her bottom lip,

I sucked her lip deeper into mine while toying her perfect hair with my fingers.

She was all I could feel and focus on.

I was of her.

A fire had been lit, a connection had well and truly linked, through the most perfect kiss of my life.

The friend we were with said that it was the most beautiful kiss she had ever seen,

and that she wished she had filmed it. She asked if that was weird and I said

“No that was definitely a beautiful moment”.

The night on the 18th of July, 2014 will never be forgotten.

We fell asleep that night with our arms wrapped around each other,

facing each other, while we cuddled so naturally.

It felt like I had kissed her and cuddled her thousands of times.

The comfort and relaxed nature between us is such a strange thing to experience.

I feel like a variety of unique circumstances brought our bond together for some strange reason.

Regardless of anything,

my heart continues to skip and flutter.

Stand Down Pilot

---

A ripple

birthed from afar,

shakes through the ground,

throwing dust in the air.

A tremble:

concern, worry and hope

That it was not to be this day,

flows through every body.

The city

constantly fills with a

deepening existential angst,

instinctively focused on self-preservation.

The jets

consume the carefree breeze of innocence,

devouring families in shrouds:

of sheer fear

in the overwhelming magnitude

of the fog of war

with scorching heat and

body obliterating force,

with ripples

and trembles,

with fire

and fracturing walls.

The bombs weren’t seen

but  felt.

The feeling hits

when bodies are split

into incinerated chunks of meat:

Mothers are minced

against collapsed building blocks

to become mere scars

as the heat

chars them into the rocks.

The stench of searing steak

lingers after limbs are clipped.

The shock wave rip:

a product of one bomb slipped.

The scars of war run deeper

than just the body counts

Especially when each,

and every one of us

has no idea why

any of this

insane psychotic nightmare

is even taking place.

Patriots, politicians and theists think

they are fighting for something

bigger than us all.

But it just comes down to

the insatiable hunger for MORE!

Greed kills billions of people

exactly like you and I.

EXACTLY!

The jets

bring children,

only just beginning their lives,

to their knees,

ruining their playful happiness forever.

Their colour-filled vision

shoots RED

and then:

jet

black.

Nothingness.

Dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 I made this hectic, chaotic track using my poem as a monologue

Forgotten

The fear of fading

made me fade

she forgot me

so quickly, so easily.

Every night I have a new chilling dream about Fani.

I see her face in every cloud.

I hear her voice all of the time, especially when sleep deprived….

“I got cold feet;

I don’t feel anything anymore…

You loved me too much”.

I replied,

“But you still care about me don’t you?”

…….

…..

“Do you still have the tiniest bit of emotion left toward me?”

…

..

.

Silence.

Space, distance and silence

broke me worse than any words ever will.

I wasn’t

enough.

I was

forgotten.

Inexorably.

 

My heart beats so softly

but gasps with every breath

Dreams of reuniting have long left with the wind

against the jet engines.

A plane took off with a spare seat,

three planes in fact.

Letters, scarfs and watches

journals, jackets and phone cases

are pushed away from emotionless eyes,

so that she can also be pushed away

and hidden.

My mind is relocating

me.

It knows that it has lost

its heart

its drive

the passion

the motivation

the rush and energy

from loving her…

from giving her the most sacred gift of all.

But what do you do

when you trusted

your heart

your time

and your future

with someone else?

They are hers now.

I gave her those gifts

so willingly;

her love was intense

so my love became

encrusted/entrusted.

Gifts cannot be taken back.

I am lifeless

without my heart.

I catch my reflection sometimes

and I feel like someone else…

I look like someone else,

my eyes are frosted in grief.

I am someone

else.