Bittersweet

Something in me stretches and coils
A burning desire
A consuming fire
And if I am to never tire of these fumes
I must forge a path clean through the streets of my heart,
Through to a centre much more sound and sane,
To a mind much more free than the cage that is your love.
You smoulder, but trap.
You kindle, I crack.
We are such deficits of each other that any fire and all desires burn each street raw
Until I am at the core of you I am nowhere and then when I am there I am also lost.
We are such parodies of lovers that despite all that stretches and coils within me,
I am nothing but an embarrassment of you.
And yet if I were to die within a day,
I would do it scrubbing clean the ash strewn streets,
Our messed up dreams, so that when I am gone,
You are no longer just me.

My Love Has Died And Gone Away

Because my love has died and gone away, ashes to the wind, I grab at every speck of dust, keeping it safe in a crystal box of hope. But every day the sun rays burn through that crystal as if it were wax and my collection comes loose to escape. It flies free to another land where I must chase it.

Because when I thought of digging the grave I realized I'd need flowers to aid me mask the horror of his pale face so I went in search of it. But sad to say even that decay could not please the angels.

Because my love was an unrepentant sinner I cannot even pray for the ground to receive him gently. The dirt is now wet with rain and I think I've stood too long crying in it. If only these tears were not so bloody they could have blended and I could have fooled the lonely souls eagerly watching me.

Because I am bad at lies and forgiving sinners and false hopes and catching wandering ash, my love is no place for me to get lost in. The words like a maze keep twisting and take me into exile, where I stand now and I'll stand here a while longer than necessary. Because so broken I am that my love has died, with pleasure, and gone away.

Stuck

Nobody listens to the screams of those buried underground. What happens to the voices lost beneath the sand? Or the sounds behind the roar of the world? Do they exist past that one desperate moment of relief? Do I dare break my silence? Or let others rule my life forever? Is it wrong to change what I need from what I thought I wanted? Maybe, since I've grown as a person so has my ability to think and decide. Why is it so hard for people to understand I CAN choose for myself, that I will not always be a child requiring guidance. If a flower was forever a seed it would never bloom into a colored beauty, and be trapped within it's shell, always. I crave so desperately the taste of untainted air within bubbled freedom. Now if i could just breathe in and spread out my wings wide. But afraid of falling, I never prepare for flight. I wish there was a ray of light guiding me, a hand that let me take it along for the ride instead of making me follow it. Can't these restrainers be my courage instead? When will I see hope? I wait.

Breathless Walk

A breathless walk,
Through a world of imbalanced extremes,
Through the echoes of silence inside the mind,
That is for now,
Lost to the noise, the buzz,
Sanity never restored.
If ever the world lived lies,
Now in this catch of truth,
On this breathless walk,
That dizzies and nauseates,
Past the signs, the dummies
And puppets with strings,
Dancing to the rhythm of obscurity,
Content in the Shield,
Of momentary display,
The bubble of certainty never achieved,
But with the skeleton,
Of smoke in the night,
All remembered like oxygen,
On this breathless walk of life.

The Night Beckons

Befriend the night for it beckons, all ye who shall listen to its darkness. For it whispers to your left and dances to your right, this darkness you crave. But turn to it, and it’s out of sight, vanishing in the corners of your eyes, this burnt shadow you chase. Like liquid it flows, like time it slows, slipping through the fingers of your mind. Chase crave listen, pray it does not return, this darkness waiting for your hand. In the instant before you understand and reach out to befriend, the burst will swallow your life. And then you are forever grounded in this night.

Broken Shells

And we are left these broken shells,
With some things inside but nothing well.
Praying for an emptiness,
These days I sit very still,
Afraid of making my insides rattle again
And to have my crux disemble as before it fell.
Pieces broken and pieces missing,
Can this mirror creature ever be whole again?
Wisps of a damaged soul can be felt.
No silken ribbons here, but only dying spells
Rotting away in some broken shells.

That Is My Curse

If only crying didn't make me feel better,
And these promises burnt into my heart could be kept,
I would be somewhere sunshine ruled the order of things,
All good and evil.

Perhaps then I would be happy,
With no scars to hide and no tears to wipe,
Amongst an eternal bliss of that world,
I would begin to live again.

And I know even now that that's the place I would find you.
What a sight we would be.
Two angels ascending at last,
To the thrones we had lost.

If only I could tell the truth and hold back sadness and be a little less selfish.
But fallen out of grace,
I cannot yet embrace
You or the glory of heaven.
And thus I am forever human.

Summer

These are such grand houses
On such fragile coasts
The ocean waves a hand
And they are gone
Like scattered mist
Or bubbles blown
Snatched away by the wind.

These grand houses
Now fall into grand tombs
And with the rubble
Buried is your happiness.

Summer has ended
A blow sends the dandelions
To a lost land
Faded and withered
The seeds moan for your loss too.
Though you never cared
For their end
They cry for yours.

CIB Resurrected: What Started As A Whisper

Have you ever had that urge to do something new and exciting, but it seems that the entire universe is simply conspiring against you? Every obstacle becomes inhibiting. No matter how hard, or how many times you try to get back on track, things just don't seem to be working out. Over and over, this happens, until you simply give up and don't care anymore.

Well that's a summary of what I've been going through for the past year and a half. After making the grave mistake of deleting my previous blog (wiping it off the face of this earth), I regretted not having this platform to vent anymore. Slowly, a whisper began in the back of my head. "You must write again," it said. "You must post again, even if it's to tell the tales of a tedious, tiresome routine of being a Med student." "You must not keep all the strange flavours of words to yourself, you selfish little girl." "Be empowered. Forget the past, and begin again!" They were soon screams, and commands that would not be ignored. And while I have not yet started back on the path of being a full time aspiring writer, I have decided to piece together a nest of twigs where I can store all the scattered tidbits of poetry and short stories I've worked on.

Maybe you, the one reading this right now, will find something worthwhile and be inspired to break your own chains. To reach greater heights after having learnt not only how to fly, but also how to fall and rise up. Once again, Be Empowered! Fix things while you can. Who knows where tommorow will take you. You were lucky enough to get today so don't waste it. I understand that after too much dawdling. Suddenly, the universe is innocent and alluring like before. Just as I like it.

So in honour of Coffee, Ink, and Blood Part 1, this is Turity cutting the ribbon to CIB Resurrected.