Saturday, January 9, 2010

Detached


It lingers somewhere in my heart. My heart beats. Blood runs in my veins. And now it's running in my blood. It's all over my body. I can feel it constructing its shield over my existence to block any other feeling but itself. The shield has holes created and widened by time. In a couple of hours I'll be back to my old self again. But I can't take it. It's torturing me.

It all started with a thought, popping up in my mind. This thought overpowered my heart and created the feeling torturing me now . It always happens at the wrong times.

Amidst the crowds, I feel lonely.

During the few moments of happiness, I hold back my tears.

And now, though my lungs breathe still, I'm suffocating.

 

I lose things all the time. I stare at objects for hours and when I'm recalled to this world, I find myself having no remembrance of the thing I was staring at.  People call this thoughtlessness, but I call it thoughtfulness. This is what thoughts do to me; they detach my mind from the rest of my body for it's too small to allow them all in. They leave me, body here, and mind elsewhere.

Time and place no longer matter.

 

I always though it would be nice for me to have an on and off button for my mind, to control the thoughts that possess every single cell in my body. But, would I take it?

 I hate silence. I hate having the ticking of the clock as the only sound in the room. I always have music in the background. But if the loudest of all voices was silenced, would I take it?

 

Thoughts,

Life with you is torture

Life without you is death.


 

7 comments:

Maggie May said...

Thoughts can work to help you or work against you.
I fid I have to be selective with mu thoughts otherwise they would overtake me.

Thanks for following me. I will be back.

Nuts in May

Khulud Khamis said...

for some reason, this reminded me of something I wrote a few years back:

Three kinds of thoughts enter my mind.
My mind is the water – ready to accept in all its fluidity.
Some thoughts are like salt; they enter the mind and they melt in it.
Some thoughts feel like the earth; they enter the mind, yet refuse to melt. Together with the waters of the mind, they create mud, mingling with the mind. Some are like the thirsty earth of dry summer days of khamseeny weather of Haifa, drinking in the water with insatiable thirst.
And then there are thoughts of oil. These are the strange thoughts that the mind just cannot accept, for they are made of a foreign material. Foreign to the mind. These thoughts remain separate from the mind, refusing to intermingle with anything of familiarity. Like the dark, homemade olive oil we bring from the village by the gallons every year. It tastes thick and it's the best olive oil on earth, but it feels foreign in the city; it just does not belong there. People are always amazed at its dark, rich color. And like this olive oil, the thoughts that are most foreign to the mind are the purest ones – the ones that are the most natural...

Stephanie Fey said...

I think this is a really lovely blog that, and your writing is hugely expressive and insightful. Hope you don't mind if I tag along on your journey by following your blog.

Best wishes,

Stephanie Fey x

dianne said...

I think it is difficult to detatch our thoughts from our emotions, just lately I find myself lost in my thoughts, the smallest thing such as words someone has written to me or some music which reminds me of someone I care for can fill my eyes with tears. xo ♥

Nahla said...

maha !! god u r just like me !!
i like it so much and yeah its true i believe the same

yoli said...

lovely blog

Maha said...

Loved your piece Khulud. i absolutely loved how you used such simple elements to show us how they invade your mind
Dianne, you are a beautiful pot and poets are sensitive beings :)
Steph, thanks a lot for the sweet comment and yeah Nahle we are alike :)
Thank you also yoli and maggie