mother love

mother love,

you are grace

profound and beautiful and

kindred spirits become you

lady love,

you have evaded me

when wicked lust tainted my mind

and he blew my guts up into smithereens

you stood there and watched me

mother heart,

you remain as you have been,

mysterious

and i am not yet convinced of you

that you are

that you be

that you can make your way inside of me

lovely mother,

you have abandoned your child

you have left me here, to die

and i am not yet convinced you were anything

but a kindly nightmare

a jarring dream

the kind of intangible dust

that wanted nothing more

than to fuck me.

mother may,

spring is not my friend anymore

my birth gave way to a life of pain

my life gives way to apathy

and sweet mother,

we may never meet again

i may never feel your warm hand

and, kindly mother,

worst of all,

i may never know what it all meant.

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Qubool.

i think there might be something important

about enduring difficulty,

about facing embarrassment

about embracing your truth

i think there is something vital, in fact

about standing in broad daylight

with the less comfortable aspects

of your person absolutely conspicuous,

and saying— this. this is who I am.

i think it is quite noble

indeed, i think it is necessary

to come out of hiding at some point

to stop running

to wake up.

to learn to be of service to someone

someone other than yourself

i think it’s time to realize

that there’s not much you can force

not comfortably.

that anyone who really wants you

is going to jump down in

to journey inside your daunting guts

to explore every nook and cranny first

to understand it all.

they’re going to want you, not despite it

but perhaps, because of it

and certainly, first you must want yourself

you must have yourself ever before someone else can

in sickness and in health

to love

to cherish

you must become capable and deserving

of your own respect

of your own content

and for this,

you must be honest with yourself

you must live with a kind of transparency,

a sort of unparalleled candor

you must accept the most terrifying and beautiful of truths—

who you really are.

qubool hai?

Qubool hai

Qubool hai.

Qubool hai.

lost ones 🌎

and a moment of silence

for the lost ones

for the ones we had to shed away

to protect ourselves

to hide our true colors.

i wonder how you sleep at night

because i know i have loads of trouble

i wonder if you value life

i wonder if you struggle

with the sins you commit

with every second afterward

i wonder if you think it was all worth it

i wonder, if you too, feel the burn

the heat of vulgarity

the sizzle of deceit

i wonder if you feel it all around you too

this aura of defeat

i thought we were of the same ilk

cut from the same cloth,

what once seemed like silk

but all my fingers feel is dampened wool

my mind is throbbing, i’ve a shattered skull

i wonder if you feel this pain

i wonder if you do

i wonder if we deserve to see someday

but im afraid i must leave you

to protect myself

to hide my true colors

to conceal it all before it destroys me

you see, the art of lying is very subtle

so a moment of profound silence

for the lost ones

we sacrificed the glory that could’ve been

we lost our right to remain friends

we’ve both indulged in our fair share of sin

so our story must end the way it began

two lost souls, desperately searching for company

alone, once again.

purgatory

and now i don’t feel pain,

it’s anticipation

and although regret rings constantly

like a bell

it seems there is still hope for salvation

in the form of your beautiful mouth

in the guise of your knowing eyes

in the risk of redemption

that is where I dwell

But will you still want me, love?

will you still run your hands all over?

will you still wanna feel it?

will it feel the same when we’re sober?

I stand frozen, in fear

I trace my mind over possibilities

I can’t tell whether you’re moving

further, or near

The waiting is killing me.

Silence and the Bluff

“I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves.”- Mary Shelley

and so the diamond in the rough

finally shows its true colors

the glitter falls away,

and leaves only rubble.

you and the monster are one and the same

and I’m appalled at myself

for ever thinking any other way

for you are not the remedy for the tremor

you are the tremor in disguise

you are a different kind of the same pain

you are malevolent in essence, with deceptively kind eyes

and you jab at me with your invisible spear,

as you kiss me all over

you scoff at my vulnerability and spit on my softness,

you lie over and over and claim to be honest

and your greatest weapon is your kindly appearance

it’s the blade that cuts every time

for though the monster is evil

and hunts me for my blood,

he possesses a candor that you never could

he explicitly declares his intentions, and never claims to be good

but you

weren’t you supposed to be my hero?

my supposed ‘shining knight’,

to whom i left my heart in confidence,

yet you never hear my cries

and as for the source of my warm, sticky blood,

you lend it to any passing beast that may offer a dime.

Actualization.

God.

He wants to prove to me that

he’s there

he’s here

there is divine energy all around me

and it controls everything

that nothing is coincidental

that destiny has me wrapped around her

little finger

that i know nothing

because i know

that there was nothing

that I wanted more

than this.

and just as i began my departure

from my dream,

my fantasy

it walked up to me and looked me in my eyes

it sent chills through my bones,

it grazed my soul and made its way down my spine

delirium.

i am speechless.

i do not know what to make of this

nor what i did to deserve it

beautiful.

i am as whole as ive ever been

i am as complete as i’ll ever be

no more excuses,

he’s left me none

i look destiny in the eyes,

i am, as much as i am capable of being,

Actualized.

Onward, and to the Stars

As I embrace the idea of looking to the future, and of making sense of what is to come, I find myself less anxious than I might’ve previously. Lack of anxiety, of course, may not necessarily mean lack of fear itself, but I do believe I am more at ease. And for that, I am grateful. I don’t know where this newfound peace is coming from, and how to hone it holistically and optimize in the way that I probably should. I suspect optimism for the future is stemming from an exhaustion with my preceding obsession with the past, or perhaps, just a clear understanding of the need to release it.

Regardless, after a long time, I am thinking about tomorrow. I am thinking about the weeks to come, about what will become of everything. I am more conscious of my relationships with people, and will attempt to be more charismatic and attentive in the way I interact with them (I think, now, that they deserve this, and that I have been wrong to remain distant and cold for the sake of my own convenience). I don’t know whether I can become less selfish, for while in theory it seems to be a brilliantly simple and becoming manner of living, I find it difficult to practice the art of denying my own desires. Still, I’ll try to work on that. Hedonism, in all of the luxuries it provides, is not something I’m sure I want my legacy (should there be one) to be associated with.

There is a lot I want to do with whatever time I may have left. I know how irritatingly cliché that sounds, and I know how many people who’ve made the very same claim have done little with their actions to support it. Even still, I felt the need to say it, because I feel it, and at this point in my life I am finding that feeling something is often the most apt and apparent cue we ever get to say it; I may be wrong. I feel I’ve wasted an insurmountable amount of valuable time. And I don’t mean to say this to evoke a feeling of regret or depression, but of ambition and determination, to make sure I don’t continue to mistake the time I am given as some sort of prison sentence. Time was not the shackle, my perspective was; time is a privilege, one I had been ignorantly wasting.

I hope that this final push into utter adulthood, turning twenty, means I will begin to transform (as I would very much like to) from a girl of thought and grotesque obsession, into a woman of action and eloquence. I want to think less, and do more. I want to plan less, and see more. I want to be absolutely present in every moment granted to me. The time, as I now know, is now.

I have found that the secret of letting go of my obsession with the past, of allowing myself to come face to face with the idea of fashioning my future in cognizance of its significance to me, was to understand that the future is not some distant, intangible phenomenon, it is now. Someday is here, and it is time to make of it what I will.