couch revelations

this is a migraine

and striking nausea later

i am laid out on the beige couch

and i wrap a scarf around my head

covering my eyes

i’m too blinded by the throbbing migraine

to walk as much as 3 meters into my bedroom and

try to find my eye mask

i do not care how messy the pillows seem

to be in disarray

every feature of my furniture has blended into one

discrete

yet vastly expanding

point that pervades my eyesight

–

i dose off one paracetamol pill later

trying to sleep

the lights of my eye

switched off

but my brain is lighting up

with all the thoughts i shouldn’t be overdosing on;

earlier today i was asked about kant’s categorical imperative

of course my eye is shrieking out of my skull

trying to tell me that consistency in moral philosophy is impossible

–

i have this sinking into my couch sensation

like i was falling to the basest

form of my existence

all i could see was instinct and impulse

but flip the iceberg 180 degrees

and i’m actually at the surface

i’m at the most shallow pond of existence

and my soul is thirsting

my feet are drowning in quicksand

tethering me to this ambience of superficiality

i want to linger because the view from here

is exquisite

i’m on the highest floor of this towering feeling of superiority

high on the sensation of control and knowledge

i see everything but i don’t really know anything at all

just blocks of houses and roads i can’t distinguish

and then again i resurface on the cushions of this beige couch

i am coming back slowly

through words of kierkegaard

and kafka and

the kings of existentialist thought are slowly pulling me forward

i am kneeling before my god

and i’m plunging into the streets

my feet are touching the asymmetrical cobblestones of this road

and i can read every sign

i know this building it’s screaming grey with knowledge

of the dissonance of existence

i am transcending

and one eighty degrees transformed

i am plummeting into the innermost parts

of myself

—

how did i get here again

it must have been kant

–

iceberg metaphors are a cliche but so are you

 

 

why won’t they stop talking to me in all the colors i cannot see

every part of me

is taking turns

as if to tell my mind

that i am no longer in control

of who speaks through my words

it’s like a pianist has seized my fingers

and was overcome by a seizure

into a maddening symphony striking

lines of chopin

and i cannot stop writing

for fear that i may never get the chance

to let my soul absolve itself of all these

secrets

so i’ll let the painter

come and whip the brush into

a natural fauvist image

of matisse’s

and i’ll let the whore

come striding in black

and dance over the grass

under which my body is buried

i will let them take over me

for i know that i can never be myself again

because i’ve lost a part of her

with you

and i can never retrieve her

so i’ll tread over her every memory

and desecrate it with my words

softer endings

twelve hours in bed

i’ve slept through a dawn

because i couldn’t witness its breaking,

hoping i’d wake up to a sheath of night

that covers me from end to end

seven hours ago

i could probably still see the features of

your face

and mine

but now it’s all a blur of color;

a revelation waiting to

come.

three hours of hunger

and i’ve hoped

to hold longer to this emptiness

maybe it’ll cloud all of the feelings

of my higher self

today

i want to be

the lowest self

the most primal

for fear that if i transcend again

i will let the feelings take me

so i’d rather go

before

i still want to leave

not because i’ve given in

but because i do not find meaning

when i imagine sleeping through eternity

i do not fear non-existence,

i yearn for it

and i yearn to escape this;

feeling

of existence,

i do not want any part of it

my gift

i finally

got him to leave;

i got him to doing

what he always wanted to do

i believe

i gave him my final

and greatest gift;

a reason.

desire

i want hands

on my body

grazing my

waist

i want whispers

of your breath

across my ear

lobe

i want bites

in my kisses

and spanks

in my caresses

i want more skin

across my skin

i want layers of us

stripped down

to the core

i want to ride

through this night

until i’ve run out of dark skies

i want to race the stars

and see their glisten’s reflection

speed across your eyes

sunsets and sunrises

whose color shifts across

my thighs

i want desire;

loins

lit

i want to grab the fire

let it burn

within

until the skin

crisps

brown

how

today i caught myself

satisfied

in the midst

of anger

and happiness

and sadness

in between his lips

squeezed in spaces breaking words

i looked around at the trees

and something in that very moment

made my soul

crack open

and breathe.

 

arms of god

i’ve met you

from the first night,

hurt

and beaten down,

i wish when i see you last

you are hurt

and beaten down

but never the same way twice,

and never a way where you stay there,

i hope i come to you

hurt and beaten down

and you can lift me

the way i wish so

sincerely

to lift you

 

the embrace

it’s like my forehead

bursting with beads of sweat

changed color

bought the entire world

to a halt,

seemingly the world

opened its arms

embraced me

even when i failed to wake up

and open my arms to god,

he has opened all other arms for me,

because even though the believer

did not ask for help,

the person did,

so god would not deliver the heavens,

but he would deliver me the world

-all the people who texted me out of nowhere

 

i’ve outgrown people to get here

i am reminded that if i need

to teach you so much about love,

i need to start by being small,

but i am not small

i’ve grown for years

and i will not be made

to shrink

so that i can fit in your shadow.

i have learned never to give anyone

that power to diminish my thoughts,

to delegitimise my feelings,

and make me feel

pathetic.

— love will not hold me back from outgrowing notions of you

awakened

it’s raining today.

everything is falling through

or rather,

coming through.

while the structure may collapse in on itself,

by morning it will glisten with that familiar glow of

self-realization.

today,

my mind will burn within itself and have nothing but thoughts to light up through.

today,

my chest will break but my heart will pump through it all

relentlessly.

because today, i’m coming together, i’m letting rage and affection sew my skin on and i will tread across the city naked

in my new dress;

i will be.

(finally)