Topsy Turvy

Look into my eyes
How long can you stare at me?
Can you take it all?
Keep looking
and you might start to see
someone else's face

Who do I look like?

You can't recognise who you see in there so you're too afraid to look

Yet

You've been trying to take me
piece by piece
but I'm ready
to give you all of me
at once
the only question is
if you can take it.

Try looking way from the emphasis,
the power,
the truth,
Can you take it?

I'm ready to follow you anywhere
but how far would you go?
Spill your thoughts
And I will collect them
like jelly beans in a jar
pennies in a green piggy bank,
stools stacked over one another.

It's a kids room.
Your room,
Your heart.
It's nothing but a small hoard of memories where live - your shadows, your bookshelf next to lamps, lighters, candies, blades and lightning in bottles.
You've always been too afraid to open them
You're afraid of the fire
Afraid that it might consume you
You're afraid of the shadows
Afraid that they might swallow you
like a dark dive in the ocean
You're afraid of the blades,
Which trod across your seemingly easier paths
Afraid you might take the old route.

Little paintings hang in corners.
But all you paint
is just a dark room with a few stars.
You paint the same starry sky
Every night
Never changing even when it dawns,
on you that time is running out.
All you seem to do is wait.

What are you waiting for?

Ruined

Soiled socks and broken egg shells
Sunday mornings with wet newspapers
Puncture tires before the rush and
Always forgetting your toothbrush

Spoiled paint and winter rain
Cold winds and sun rays
Blue socks and no pants
Red hoodies and sun tans

Messy hair lying in a chair
Lazy cat around the legs
Bunched up jeans
muddy prints
Giving sight to pristine shins

Newspapers left out in the storm
Wipers broken leaving water un drawn
Balled up tissues after a flu
And earplugs, where one works out of two

Shoe prints and snow prints and pieces of glitter

Torn pages and books and unfinished letters
Words said too soon, too late or never
Being there at the right time, late or early
Thinking too much, impulsive strikes or nothing really
These actions, these choices and these ripped seams

These are things that seem most spoilt to me.

These are the memories ruined for me

Rain

Rain has always been my favourite weather
The thunder,
like my father;
loud and ground shaking.
The lightning,
like my mother;
quick and bright.
Always together,
a step ahead of another.
And I,
rising from the raindrops
collecting in puddles,
their love child,
follows them around.

To some he sounds like war and weary things.
To some she looks scary and scared things.
Together they seem so destructive and I,
was what lay in their path.
Never has anyone seen something,
so destructively preserved,
in a cocoon of hailstones,
away from the world.

Rain also reminds me of my first love,
how we shared a small intimacy in the slight drizzle of rain.
The memory where I knew tranquility and alas it was in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Rain is what I was born in,
to bring a clear sky.
Rain is what I sleep in,
under my starless night.
It soothed me,
when everything was a storm inside.
It cradled me in its muddy arms.
Brushed my hair with gentle winds,
leaving wet kisses on my cheeks.
It taught me how to dance,
without anyone watching.

It taught me that it's okay to get wet once in a while, to slip, to mess up, to nurture, to love, to give, to show your try nature without hesitation. 

It gave me, so many memories.

Bah Humbug

"I wanna see what you're willing to loose"

Humans are such stupid simple animals. We all fall in love under that same sky. The one that has changed colours for us since the beginning. We put it down to refraction of light and the wind currents how the sky turns orange and the clouds come together to paint our shared ceiling. The same painting under which a thousand people fall in love at the same time.

Some of us try to become less of us because we think that the we are loosing the everpresence of our fundamental ingredient and it works for some time. But our painted ceiling always brings us together in the most hypocritical ways because when the same sky darkens we run for shelter and find a new ceiling. We're divided and we think we're better off like that. In smaller groups, like a bacteria in it's cyst, we infect the earth with our greed.

We have learnt to displace the balance of the nature for our momentary gain of power and to ignore the consequences of our actions. We are greedy for the ocean's soul to be filled in tanks in the back of our cars, just so the we can move through time more slowly.

Time gained here, life lost there.

Some of us seem to come together and resonate, proving that our atoms have a wavelength which matches. This wavelength represents our energy, which changes. People change. Some people don't always resonate. There are very few people who are able to resonate. I've never had proof that it would last forever. But I believe it to be as distinct as the screeching of tires on the asphalt, that some of us have resonated since the beginning. Since the sky learned to change colours.

Many have spent their lives breathing and not living, surviving but not feeling alive. All of this is for naught in the end, but questions have chants and answers have rants that turn to debate and all we fear is fear itself so really, we are just simply dumb creatures.