Tag Archives: emotion

Scratches

1 Feb

It comes, It haunts,

It teases, It taunts,

It boils to the top,

It raises me up,

My hands stop short,

My body screams “stop”.

I need to scratch,

I need to feel pain,

No I’m not numb,

I’m just going insane,

The relief lasts only for a fragment of a second,

The pain is just a small distraction,

Of thoughts running wild with no direction.

Thanks for reading,
Much Love,
– V

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Silence

12 Jan

Dear Reader,

Brace yourself. This post is a long one. It’s something I wrote a while back.
I found it hidden away in a folder with some other random files.

An original picture I took.

An original picture I took.

.

I’m just so tired. I feel so tired.

I know you care. I know you’re worried. I see where you’re coming from. I see so much more than it may seem. Don’t shut out, don’t hold back. Share. Yet if I did would you listen? Would you hear and not look upon me with disapproval?

I speak but you do not hear, I scream but there is only silence. A shattering silence all around coming out of my mouth when inside the deafening sounds of noises fuse into each other, not allowing me to think. Not allowing me to express coherently while the blaring lights of questions shine down upon me. Burning, entering, vaporizing every inch of my being. Who am I? What is wrong? What is right? Perspectives. Thoughts. Dreams. Passions. Silence.

I am so much more that you think I am. Or am I? What am I? Who am I? Priorities? Time? A day a month a year a second. The slippery slope is apparent and vast in front of me. The truth? Yes. It is here within. You want it, but are you ready for it? Can you handle it? Or will I be drowned in the never-ending torrents of darkness that you may think it brings.

Mind. Soul. Family. Love. Silence. I chose the darkness? What if there is light within. What if there isn’t?  I don’t know. I’m tired.

Do you think I do not see? I see. I hear. I feel. So much more that you can even begin to understand. This gift. This curse. Learning to control it before it breaks loose and satisfies a deep pit of blood lust within. Every bud around me is flowering blooming bright and clear, yet here I am, still in the ground, still dirty and damp. Dreaming, wishing, hoping that one day I would rise above all else into the warm light. False? Naïve? Dumb? Maybe. I don’t know.

Different timeframe. Different moments. Different thoughts. Different choices. Yes. True. I agree. I see, but do you?

That familiar weight that was so long upon me a long ago looms close by, here is your carrot. Enter the glass box. Stay. Silent. Shush.

Do what is right. Follow the path. Yet no, that isn’t it. That’s not how it was always. How do I speak when it only gets me shut in?

Tired. So tired. Tired of disappointing. Tired of being lost. Trying. Trying to fight it. Trying to be strong and hold on and find that strength that was there so long ago. That strength that came with a mask. That strength in which darkness and light fought.

Maybe, maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe I need it to fill this void of a clattering silence within. Invisible. There.

What if I am meant for so much more? What if I have been good all this while and I am finally not strong enough to be good anymore? What if the darkness is taking over? Opinions. Suggestions. No. No force is involved. Here’s your long-lost arm, now go ahead fix it in and use it as if you need a third arm. Analogy. Fail.

I feel as if I am supposed to open up this dam holding a flood filled with blood, laughter, tears, hopes, thoughts. No not open, break it, blow it up. Even though those walls have stood true for so long. What happens then? When the swirling currents of everything come forth and break through? What happens when it pulls me under while all is above on the railing on the other side?

Silence. There will only be silence.

– O.V

Words

3 Jan

morguefile.com

 

Words. Word. Words.

Sweet f**king words.

Sharp biting words.

All over, All around.

 

Once again, 

I swallow them down.

On and on and on they pour,

I wish I could run away and slam the door.

 

Haven’t I lifted you enough?

I haven’t any tears left, 

Though as a child I was so tough.

Maybe it finally caught up these past few years,

I creaked, cracked, fell and stumbled. 

 

Tired, Achy, 

There’s a thumping in my head.

I wonder again, 

What will be used in my stead.

 

Enough. Please.

 

– O.V