Posts Tagged ‘Emotions’

You have been stuck in my memory for so long that you have become so rotten, even yet you show up quite often that your memory still lingers; so fresh.

This, I say…
In the abyss of remembrance; to and for a memory that with time grows yet so dear to my heart than it ever was. And do I owe it to sheer reminisce or rather to remorse that I do not know.

This, I say…
In a time so timeless; ticking back to reverse. And have I lost track of time because I have come so far or rather because I have never really stepped forward in the first place, that , also, I do not know.

And this, do I say out of craving or out of resentment?

I do not know.
I do not know.

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Flow into me.
Let the words seep as deep as the depth of myself allows.

One word. Squeezed of all the meanings possessed, drained into the vessels of my heart. Collected, clogging my escaping breath.

There it stays… Somewhere within myself I never knew still existed; lost and forgotten.
There it stays… to unconsciously sow the seeds of a feeble life, buried underneath thick, filthy layers of myself. To refurbish relics of a collapsed being.

There it settles; for the meanings to diffuse, to give way for some warmth, to trigger…
A thought, a feeling, and a life.

Intense, this infusion of sentiments to be felt for the first time in a long long time grows.

A weak spirit, beautiful in its pale demure yet so insecure in its fear, awoken…

upon the turbulent  impact of one, and no more than just one, honest word.

It lingers in its subtle shades of a fading demure. It floats, in its feeble dress of a life, called upon from the depth of the deepest pits of a restless mind. Plucked and stretched out to mask the domains of present, past and future; to merge them into one thickened blanket that overlaps the margins of time. Distorted then dissolved until timeless it becomes, dominant it grows.

Slowly it seeps, softly it creeps. Relics of a promise, manifested by the conscience of a clinging memory; one that, although vague and blurred, never fails to blatantly impose.

Stagnant silence, embraced then disrupted by a fragile reflection that defies the limits of remembrance and extends far beyond the borders of mind, dipping and dripping into the waters of desensitized emotions. A synthetic breeze of life, diffused to fill its nothingness.

And it still fights the forces of remorse salting its sweetness out, turning the lust into ache.

It falls, onto the tips of dignified despair, condensed into an evaporating mist of reminisce. Vaporized, leaving behind a pungent scent of a gradient of relinquished shadows of promises once made.

Words of a memory; outspoken.

once and never again.

Words engraved by the broken tip of a blunt blade of a memory.

 

 

Sentiments are pathetic, really. I haven’t completely turned into a psychopath yet, thus I am still ought to at least acknowledge the feelings as they rise; as they exist and persist only to add to the irritation.
Through the following, I hereby acknowledge a flamboyant state of unexplained, and certainly unwanted,  nostalgia that surfaces as reminiscing involuntarily imposes…
Emptiness is no longer a valid state when reminiscing still purges memories into oneself. And how could one be so vacant when nostalgia compensates for the void within?
There’s a memory that never fades, that no matter how quick one heals and how perfect the wound seals, it remains so vibrant, so poignant; so significant that it soon mimics the presence of what’s been absent.

There was once a feeling; now crippled, if not dead. And every time your heart craves it, your mind slowly flourishes a memory, that revives the corpse of how it once felt; to be alive.  And it soothes the soul, because the intensity of what pours into one’s mind is so drastic that it dramatically flips everything upside down; turning the vacant full, and the absent present.
So close…

So close it becomes to how it was once like.
The beauty of a world once created now crumbled and collapsed. Its relics shrank into a memory, its realms bound by the premises of a mind that apparently failed to comprehend what it is like to forget.

And the more you push yourself to forget the more your mind squeezes fertile visions of the lagging past that overlaps its present. A blurred mind, an impaired heart; soon they both embrace the warmth of remembrance rather than the ache of fighting it.
And how could one not remember when what it was is nothing like what had ever been nor anything of what will ever be?

So unconditional it came to life, so peaceful it grew, so blind and reluctant it was mislead…
So innocently it withered away.
Missing you is a right I have ceased to attain.

I am where I was once scared to be, but it’s not as scary as the image I once coupled it to within the depth of my imagination. Far beyond gone, I’ve been.
But I owe it to every memory I behold within myself to remember.
To forget is yet only another sin only the ungrateful are to be accused of.
To forget is yet only another tag for insignificance I’ll unfairly label you with if only I happen to forget.

If my thoughts spoke, they’d call your name.

They’d crawl, into your bed of thoughts. Pampered, as complexity untangles; as your thoughts, too, unveil their unspoken words. They’d fall into the embrace of your understanding, into the meadows of your reverberating mind. Gripped, so firmly, by similar thoughts that collide.

They’d dance, in the solitude of memory, in the name of a feeling, undefined. Unleashed. Revived within the premises of mind yet bound to non-existence by the boulders of logic.

They’d dance, to a silent symphony that grows louder. To a melody that echos in the vacuum of a hollowed heart.
They’d dance, to the notes of an arrhythmic heartbeat; music that last only as long as it aches.

 

Yet…

In silence they fade, for they never spoke. They never danced.

They only once existed beyond the realms of logic, beneath the relics of ego. Unspoken.

Oh, do they ever dance again?

Through words I see…

A reflection of the face floating before me. Shimmering  eyes, so bright and vibrant. A look that slowly imposes itself upon the meanings words behold. One that lasts, and alternates to accommodate the sense of  words; words that brought them to life.

Through words I feel…

Alive.

A gradient of emotions that flows as words present themselves. An intensity; radiating, or fading, as words structure themselves together, as they materialize a subtle feeling, as they bring you, and myself, to life.

Through words I hear…

A voice, a whisper. So soft and distant. An echo, of meanings that collide within ourselves, meanings that stray; linger and loiter, then run away only to hide, once again, within ourselves.

And they still echo, they still whisper, a voice that rings a bell. A voice that purges ease into a crippled heart.

Through words…
My senses revel.

Through words…
I keep you close.

For only through words I can see, hear and feel you. Only, and only through them, I can bring your distant existence into subtle, yet significant, presence.

An aura, wafting within a closer proximity, sinking into the vacancy; filling  me up.

Useless is a painting that doesn’t squeeze the feelings out of your heart.

I don’t know what this is, and I don’t want to figure it out. I wasn’t really painting, but rather thinking, speaking… reminiscing.

I don’t know what this is. All I know is:

Trust your feelings. Paint.

Squeeze