Tell

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Won’t you tell me of the things

That make your soul stir

And your breath shrink

Of things that set on fire

Your mind and you feel it burn

Course through your veins and reach

The tips of your fingers, tingling

And your palms itch, curl into fists

And make your eyes electric,

Diamond mines in coal lines

Tell me of the things that

You’re scared to say out loud

But the tip of your tongue

Has lost taste from being shut

And numb from suppression

And your ears long to hear

A sound of your kind

A sound that may rhyme

With the beat of your heart

And the whisper of your flaws

And with the sound of your soul

A silence that echoes within

Won’t you tell me of the things

That we share in broken glances

And broken sentences

Within broken caresses

Tell me what I want to hear

And our fears might live in harmony

 

 

 

 

 

How To Converse like Sheep


Sustaining a lively and unadulterated mind requires a practice of self preservation from any element of literature that might pose as a threat to the naivety of everyday life. The real struggle lies not in your pursuit for meaning or reason, rather it lies in keeping your demeanor and social display firmly eschewed from your beliefs; unless you wish your ideas and thoughts to devour your sanity as a whole. A distraught conduct leads the individual vulnerable and perilously exposed. An attempt to exhibit firm control on one’s actions must therefore, be practised diligently.

A societal manner best adopted would be hence to engage the listener in an essentially hollow yet witty chat regarding the latest gossip, carefully circumventing any topic of politics or social perils. Much like George Orwell’s oblivious society in his novel 1984, (but mind you don’t let anyone know the novel has mentally affected you, the simple excuse of casual reading should suffice if anyone seems curious) one cannot trust the people around to fully grasp and comprehend the grave nature of our current situations. Petty conversations about celebrities and fashion should be more than pleasing to ears that know nothing of the sound war artillery makes. 

The question then arises, how does one successfully spot an intellectul among a crowd of sheep. In a desperate attempt to find a mind with whom one can share their darkest theories with, one forgets that everyone has a specific threshold for darkness. One person’s level of darkness might be enough to drive another into madness. One risks the hazard of being responsible for stealing the spring from the step of their listener by rambling about reality. One risks surpassing the listener’s threshold for dark thoughts in their desperation to let theirs go.

The best way to go about, therefore, would be to take turns with one’s mind. Daylight means you control your body and actions. Night time is when, in the safe confines of your room,  away from people, you may let the darkness take over. A pen and a paper should be present always on one’s side for when things get out of hand and regaining control of one’s concious mind seems a struggle. There lies a beautiful strength in endurance.

Clay

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What more am I than
A living statue of painted expressions
Carved in beauty yet lacking life
Filling emotion in a barren heart
Every beat a crackle in the chest
Shouldn’t I be feeling something
Butterflies they call it
Intruders in my stomach
Shouldn’t my head spin
At the sight of you
When my head approves
But how do people like you
Conjure love out of the blue
How do you string words to suit
What plays in your thoughts
Should’nt my heart skip a beat
Or my breath fall short
When you come near
Then why do I feel nothing
Except a void that I call home
An emptiness I can never seem to fill
Do you see what I fail to hide
How do I look through your eyes
Does your image of me have a smile transfixed
Or does conceit fill the contours of my face
Or do I look like just another girl
To stare at in hallways and lust to at night
How do I tell one apart from the other
How do I tell you apart from the others
Maybe its better to not guess at all
Save a heartbreak from happening
Make apathy your friend in need
Clay dolls don’t know of tragedy

Safe

 

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There lies in this chest

A heart of stone

Hardened by

A misery unknown

A believer of nothing

A sanctuary old

Holding up against time

Pouring ashes in gold

There lies in this head

A web of lies

A labyrinthine faith

A fragile mind

And these eyes they

Hold diamonds huge

Show auroras in place

Of life’s ugly hues

Phosphenes ignite

Two deceptive eyes

Save a fragile mind

From shattering a heart,

From shattering stone.