//prose

Tonight I lie with my back to the stars and I wonder; if darkness is just so easy? The tiny pockets of space, enough to form a layer of insulation, to proclaim loneliness. I could be right next to a heartbeat, and still I hear only echoes of the void that is my heart. Disenchantment seems to be the music of tonight. Here there is no need for light, no need for false hopes. Life bids us, to walk on it’s broken glass, and to not worry about smeared blood. That is the only way we connect.

rAch

Advertisements

Tangy Nostalgia

And there will come a day
when we are withered and dry
old prunes stuck at the bottom of the box
with nothing to give
and nothing to take
but stuck together in sticky memories
of glorious days gone by

Sometimes it takes years
many years
others maybe months
or days
and very soon only the sweetness
of reminiscence laces the stale air

Nothing to give
nothing to take
But stuck together
in tangy nostalgia
of times gone by

rAch

Long Bus Ride

Today I sit on this 11-hour bus ride wanting to write about the vast plains and tiny towns, and a sky that seems so far and wide. Yet no words come to mind, only a lot of insecurities and longing for this ride to end.

rAch

You don’t know disgust until it festers from deep within you, an irk you cannot run away from, cannot tear away from yourself, cannot cleanse yourself of.

Disgust in the pits of my belly and it makes me nauseated.

rAch

Flame In A Jar

I watch on as the flame burns
unwavering in its element
foolish yet happy

I am like a jar;
It has no space for me
no care for tame
for with me it falters
and the flame dims

The flame does not stay alive
within the jar
They do not exist together.
We suffocate each other

rAch

Daisy In Hand

It was a beauty to behold —
a delicate beauty
Bowing down to the throes of time
and forces of nature

It was melancholy;
to not be able to let go
of this dying beauty

For as far as love goes
As is imminent is death.

It was joy meant only
for an instant
before falling to ruins
and leaving
ruins and chains.

rAch

Pink Thumb

Today I sit around in my neon pink sweater trying to live the bright and happy vibes; to translate what I want to feel and be. Yet this strikes me as only an irony; of good intentions and mismatched souls.

I feel too naked and vulnerable, and all too alone. Perhaps it has always been a no, no anount of —

I have no words to explain this inexplicability that is churning at the bottom of my tummy and forcing its way out onto the cold hard gravel of reality.

rAch