Hurricane

Sometimes my mind is made up
like,
This is the artist life.
where you write, about what you dreamed of, what you can’t have, and drown in the sorrow that a human is limited being, never aligned with reality because there are so many lives,

you wanted it all.
at the same time you existed in a parallel universe of all minute things, you are the incandescent soul that allows and is changed by everything
you purposely make your life about something or someone, who isn’t necessarily in your grasp, because you feed on the longing and the need of someone else,
to solely justify all your subconcious evaluations on life’s infinite possibilities, it lights your mind and fuel the energy to roll out of bed in the morning,
more than coffee and the sun on your face,
and it’s natural for you to connect the long distant dots together in one sentence.
you are forever extending yourself, reaching out to enrich your life with the sensations of the lives around you.
you feel and experience all, you then resent all
the light years you had lived in your mind tires you out.
you wish you can bring the shutters down and hide in your cowardice
your hopes are too heavy of a burden to bear, and the expectations you set for yourself
you cried openly, loved silently, unconditionally,
fiercely accomodating,
and left the scars in your soul that no one can possibly fill,
because you deliberately chosen to be the melancholy
in your many lives. it is mysteriously satisfying to not allow yourself to be in the path like every other mortal,
as it is a losing battle against immortallizations of the impossible loves you’ve had
it is murderous to your sanity, yet you will only try and try again.
to illuminate the reason why you can feel everything
by dancing on the papers and carve out the words,
that there is a reason after all….for this ability to silently descent into madness,
everytime you let yourself to be inspired.

 

p/s: Title borrowed from the song ‘Hurricane’ by Halsey.