Expanding Universes

And they baffle me still, those questions....
  Couldn't colors be variables instead of rigid facts? And what proves that my black is your black? I know that to all of us, black is the same thing, but what if it was not a color altogether, what if it was a visual feeling we simply recognize as "black"?
   It runs in my blood to turn things within my head and question. Time was proved to be a fourth dimension and not an inevatible tormentor. Age is defined by time which is defined by our place in the space, for if you had a twin who traveled for one light year on a spaceship which goes with the speed of light, he would be only a year older by the time he came back to Earth whilst you would be eighteen years older....or so I read. And though that sort of ships has yet to be invented, I went o one and conquered Time. But when I came back to Earth, everything was so aliented to me. Again, Time proved to the greater.
        Words are different from other Arts; unlike them, they have a comprehensible language and, all the other Arts translate feelings through feelings, whilst words go a bit deeper than that, just a little bit, for they all meet at that point of never literally translating feelings, yet, convince you they did. Words circle around feelinsgs, yet never quite touch them, and all what you feel while reading, is only what lies between the words. And still I wonder, when was those abstract lines given this huge power? How did language come to be?

The Inn of Forgotten Fancies

Letting fancies steal my thoughts, a thousand shades of a waning moon speak
   Searching for clarity, all I see is a cold ocean. Fear builds up in steps within my chest, like a foreign hand, softly touching my lungs, yet, making them shiver. Memories of a child sweep me away from these grounds and let me stand as a witness on the bathroom floor when a scared girl dared herself to step under the shower of icy water. Soon I discover that these memories are forged; I've never been a child before. On the threshold of my jump, I'm drowning. I hold my breath and then the ground disappears.
 When the ground appears again, I'm half dosed away.
  I wish my words had a tone. I wish my words were lyrics.
  I tried a thousand times before to write a story, but when my fingers touched the pencil, they started writing on their own. When I read them, I see patternless emotions. I wanted to sew them together with a plot, but they were too powerful for boundaries. They are scenes without a movie. They are a river that rebelled on civilization to become an ocean.
I wish I knew how to tango.

55-Girl with Burnt Eyes

I plunged my hands deep into the texture of a scarred face. Recurrent echoes kept on floating back within the narrow walls of the room before fading into the grey lines on the frontiers of smoldered fancies. The image had a hole. “Do I get to be the same?” pouted girl with burnt eyes.


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Faceless Faithless

The blur of colors tire my eyes as I try to find the slightly perceptible differences between the shreds of everything thrown on the cold asphalt. I look away from the window and curl my body holding my two legs between my arms. Rocking back and forth, hope is lost that sleep shall ever meet my eyes. I’m crouching and crying. I’m sucking my thumb, I’m not a baby, but I wish I could regress to that form.

I tried to take hold of the air, but it slipped away. I tried to hold on to water but it held me prisoner to that state when you are drowning and not dying. Melting between two states, you are neither liquid nor gas. You pray you are something. You pray you are anything. You pray to have a name and a scent. You pray for the shadows you lost.

The car stops. So, this is my station?

I let my legs wander to wherever the complex chaos of life bigger than being takes them.  And I stop. Halfway to nowhere, I stop. I am out of myself, questioning my name, marveling at my skin, loathing this person I must’ve become somehow, somewhere, without noticing. I see a sea ahead of me again. I push myself away, but its water runs within my veins. Past sins condense falling on my head like edgy stones taking away with them a thousand faces I once recognized as my own. And, I stand, faceless. I search within the walls of my soul and though I always believed, I’m faithless.  

Life is there. Life I once had and never knew but from others’. “oh you were so quiet”, “You’d never stop walking” “you were never sociable”  “you……you……you….” I lose tracks of the words and create my own.

When people talk about how much freedom is the heart of their lives, they are lying. Hearts are imprisoned in rib cages and souls in bodies. Brains are within the bones of a skull and being is in the rigid walls of a womb.  And they, when their eyes are outside their heads looking at themselves, all they see is a flower withering away within a transparent bell jar, sacrificing its scent for passers by. I rethink prisons. Prisons are for protection.

I approach a knife, at first, I gingerly hold it. Then, all the fear within my heart dies. Pythagoras said that a musical connection ties the universe together. I always played a violin alone. Even when the melodies life played weren’t the same, I always played a violin alone. And now, life wants to expel me. I plug my headphones into my ears, those are the last words I ever heard, “ Watch our souls fade away a our bodies crumble down, don’t be afraid, I will take the blow for you” and my last thoughts are about what Sartre referred to as sweet death, when a bee sinks in a honey jar. I feel this final release and I think…..

Prisons are for protection, but turns out I don’t wanna be protected after all.

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Laugh Today, Then Cry Forever

   Hold on to me love. We only have decaying beliefs adhering us to hypothetical realities. and if love fails us, who are we to win? And if time bounds us, what will we do but watch our lives crumble down?          
 Ambivalent, you fling me into your arms. Ambiguous, you chant your lullabies. You dared night to silence you, and you always failed.
  It is time for me to go. I take leave and head for him. He smiles his usual cold smile but a broken tooth in his mouth repels me. I run back to you.

Through the fog, I heard you singing. they'd always think you were singing of death and they'd always be wrong, you were singing of us.

Take my hand now and let's elope. Here is not our place. Today is not our time.

Again

Within us, everything was doomed to eternal silence; stilling the sound of blood if it ran in our veins and hushing those desperate screams of life as it ruthlessly strangled it. We lost hope, and with hope, we lost everything.

You whispered to me that pain has infinity to it, ephemeral as the glistening of masks. But I could hold happiness not a moment longer than I could hold the rain. Again I found myself thinking of you. And again I found myself wondering. I never touched you, so couldn't you be a hallucination? But I remembered you were as untouchable as my own soul, yet I couldn't deny its existence. 

You said I was a drop in the ocean, but I was an ocean in a drop. 

You chose to jump to the world of two dimensions and I couldn't stop you. 

Behind the walls of a painting, my love resides

15

Today, I turned 15.

Free of Thought

I hear the rhythm                                

Of your heartbeats

Eerie whispers

Those won’t but stay

And I pray I pray

That you shall fade

But still

I hold on

I line you now

Within my head

And write you

A thousand words

You will never read

But still

I see your eyes

Devouring yourself

Through my own

I touched you once
And wept forever

Condemned you then

To be a dream
But still
You are 

Too real for surreality 

Cheap Papers

Bones disassemble and blood pulverizes. Tongues still seek the scent of wealth only because they know none but it. Never shall it cease, for you have sold your soul to be under the mercy of cheap papers.

   Slavery did not annihilate, for we all worship cheap papers. Cheap Papers rule and make us kill. Cheap Papers rule, and destroy. Cheap paper is and we are not.

   All that’s beautiful is untouched. And they go on materializing feelings till they are no longer feelings. Cheap Papers murder the vibrant beat of life within our hearts. And what are we but slaves to obey?

    Look at us before we sought the warmth of the dead and were killed too. Long ago, I know, but can you still recollect? Look at us when we once tore Cheap Papers, as we saw them as Cheap Papers; then we were harshly scolded for it. Cheap Papers twisted our necks and broke them. Cheap Papers allured those who were blinded by its luster to be ever falling in its abyss of endless greed.

   And what is money but Cheap Papers we gave value until it is now more valuable than us? Once upon a time, we could exist beyond it; but like any other Cheap Papers, it withers, and makes us wither  with it

Where Never Is A Time

  

Do We?

Are we?

Will be…..?

Utter your words and bombard them with basic questions they never questioned. Faces go aghast. Mouths open and close on nothing. They turn and leave you. Asking..

Do We?

Are we?

Will be…..?

They always push the voices to where they cannot hear them. But today, a tiny whisper escaped. They tried to drown it away but it was too late. It had forever colored their eyes.

The gleam of hope sparkles in your eyes. I was there before, where ‘away' was a place; where tomorrow was 'someday' and where things had meaning only because they had no meaning. But now I'm here, where never is a time. Trapped in the walls of a fragile invincible bubble, you cannot free me… for if you did, you would have killed the dead;  you would have to let nothingness exist.
they talk about pain like they know it. i want to believe so, but I can't. All things break, but some are never the same again, and some will never be again. pain has no reason, but it hurts all the same. I keep on editing you. I keep on rectifying past mistakes. within my head, I click  "delete". you hated how I laughed. But really, misery is the funniest thing ever. they call something funny when it's unreasonable, and what on Earth is more unreasonable than you?
And do I have to be afraid? But I am beyond fear. I am where fear has no existence for caring has long abolished. I am where the alive are wishing to die. And do the dead wish to come back to life? I think so. Because "there" is always better than "here"
And now....
Now I want to sabotage and not be sued. I want to spend and not be poor. I want to shout and not be hushed. I want to walk naked and not be scrutinized. I want to be beyond being. Or, I wish I never were. 
 Being confounds us, but we cannot but be. The truth is, nobody is wrong. They won't live with the thought of them being evil, so they twist the truths. So nobody is evil, we are just too prone to misery. Being restrains us, but we cannot but be. 

Be Free

But first,

Do not be

For freedom never was 

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Colourless

The photo was in black and white, but I could see your colors.

     Your eyes caught the light and let it fall effortlessly as it had no place in them. But still, parts of it remained. Reckless as you were, the world to you had no weight, for your center was so heavy, it sucked everything in.  Just like a black hole. Your familiar cloud of smoke made your halo as you whiffed deeply, yet with no concentration as though you had done this a thousand times before and with no intention of ever stopping. In fact, I wasn’t sure you saw a thing at all.

     I approached you, and my lungs instantly expelled your smoke letting out their protests as a violent fit of coughing. You looked up and laughed with your eyebrows were raised. I asked, “What’s the matter with you today?”

“What’s the matter with me today?” You quitted laughing, but your eyebrows were still raised, only in a manner that showed you knew the answer and were challenging me to find it out.

“You look so…so…"ــــ

“Away….?”

Yes, away”

“I’m not away, I just wish to be away”

“And why is that”

“I’m in so much pain and I need to breathe”

My eyes wandered to your cigarette and you noticed. “Oh cigarettes……they don’t suck my air” Your face came with such proximity to mine I could feel your breath “People do.”

“And why are you in pain?”

“And does pain have a reason?”

“ I thought so”

“You are wrong then. Pain is the one thing people are entitled to feel without the least kind of reason. People try to tell you that others had it worse than you and still they went on. But the truth is, your pain is always the worst; you never feel anyone’s pain but yours. And feeling others’ suffering is nothing more than hearing an echo of as voice that screamed a hundred years ago.”

“And you are like onions.”

You smiled, confused. “People know there are so many layers to you,” I said, “but they are always afraid of pealing knowing that you always make them cry”

For once, you let down your cigarette, your eyes sparkling curiously and your lips let go of their sarcastic smile. You took another whiff and then moved your head away.

The photo was in black in white, and you had no colors at all.