True Love - 1

Is it cyclonic winds gently propelling birds to the skies; or is it the slow burn, the perpetual – at times suffocating – heat, the type that turns water into islands? True love, if such a thing exists, has proclaimed itself elusive of me; the hubris. Having travelled beyond the horizons, setting foot now where whales dare sail, from the very pit of my heart I ask, what else is there?

The love shared between three innocent children, eyes dull leaving the bus only to awaken once again upon entry. Eras spent, year after year, company giving colour to the monotonous monoliths restricting the sunlight: settle down, you’ll get your playtime. The consistent joy of start to finish never quite dawned on me: free floats the transient wind.

The fabricated love, that which society eggs and begs…the oohs and aahs and the prom nights; all culminating into one nice, Disney fairy tale. And before you know it, suddenly there’s a person next to you, for you…who kinda only knows you. A life less lived but a life most approved, A-Ok is stamped the crown that complies: love the reward. No, not the altitude that carries my tune. Down there is an insane cacophony of echo-chambers and faux falsettos.

Down the small chambers that carry whatever make of the night you desire, and up the paper chimneys of smoke and you’ll arrive. You’ll arrive at the burning desires that’ll consume the night. Each carrying their own, offering the whole so that – just for the night – they can feel what it’s like to hold another whole. It swirls and the emotions come as they go, they mix as they flow and before you know it…you’re chasing the very thing you were running away from; carrying your head to that lemonade, that aqua de vida. That’s right, she’s livin’ da vida loca and you crash and you burn till you can’t anymore. Till all the faces start to merge, till you’re left with nothing to offer but a shallow shell. The night’s young, wait a moment; the night’s done, do whatever you want. Where I come from, to stop so repeatedly while forcing the self to continue to move…it’d make a cyclone puke. Masterful, I tell you; such free movement, and all the while traversing these one-time-use lovers relatively unscathed.

But the most violent of winds must too, settle. And so, I came to rest. Gave in to a magnificent shore, offering to fill the emptiness with many an ol’ tale. However, some lighthouses carry ghosts of times long gone. Such powers resist to be moved, set; they simply want to own. For the life of me wasn’t a lease deed – and honestly, I’m really just a cool caress on an otherwise still day – I left, in my wake many ruins of guilt, longing, regret; I left it all behind.

Sweet lilies, filling my soul with a steady warmth. Finally, a peace engulfed me. A presence, calming all the waters I brew daily. Lilies blossoming on a long road, one final travel; the journey we all seek and my bandwagon was ready. True love, what else is it but the person who becomes your home. No need to share the day, it doesn’t matter because the scene is here, with you. All the swallowed rage, sleepless nights calming whatever ate the brain…speeding on roadways, just to get closer. The whole world vanishing around those big round eyes… Let me say this, you can’t beat a wind as transient as me; but you sure can cheat it: would you rather illusion, or anger’s profusion?

What is it that you seek, experienced traveller, in these whisperings of mine? I have travelled the world; from exchanging souls on the subway – a glance held for a moment more – to impassioned nights, after nights getting stronger with each second passing. Which version of true love is it that seems to think it eludes me, the one that shattered me or the same one that put me beyond stratosphere? I’ve danced with the stars and I’ve survived the deepest depths of the ocean; no pressure was too great, that my love couldn’t surmount. All the mountains crossed, have panned the lands and will still do; till the winds of my last breath. All of love is true, come, let me show you that one version that’d best suit you.

Written on Wednesday, May 15, 2021

Mirage

Hello world. It’s been slow of late; a halting of thoughts has led to a lack of words to spill. Yet I blabber on, like a monkey trapped in a large glass bottle. I listen to a lot of music; it takes me somewhere for a while. Away from the thoughts halted; when one can’t decide and, doesn’t really seem to want to let you decide, either; a simple escape becomes music.

Toxic, poisonous habits; not to do with substances, or with the material realm at all. Obsessing, assessing and then beating myself up; I’m ok, and I’ll be ok, with or without. A pious commitment that I haven’t even provided myself, how can I find myself so eager to put it all in the hands of another person? Objectively, not even a person who’s treating me awfully well. What are these crumbs that I stick around to get a whiff of; what is this addiction that still stirs happiness in me, upon mention of myself? I mention myself all day, my friends and family, well-wishers. Then what is this need to have validation through only her attention? I don’t want this love.

If I can see so much light outside, why is it that I get a call only when they’ve gone blind? Am I worth something, why do I take their calls when they won’t take mine? I am worth something, just not to her. Why does that matter, who’s loss is it anyway? A time spent, an escape and a fantasy; my own words thrown back at me, a pattern so obvious but I’m falling for something; and though I keep nothing safe, this danger I can’t explore.

Having dealt in the most inquisitive curios, believability has taken a very different form for me; so bendable, so easily manipulated. I’d really like to believe you, but I just can’t. Your words are like gems guiding this lost miner to the light of freedom; but it always pulls on my soul that you’re an illusion. Much nicer people out there, an inherent toxicity I cannot deny; cannot ignore.

Steer clear of the mermaid’s siren; you’re an oasis in this dessert; a mirage that I may have needed, but I’m feeling like it’s time to move on.

Written on Saturday, July 10, 2021

The Tail that Meets the Head

An escape. I often wondered how far and how long I would have to wait, for that sweet escape that most described as love. All until it would present itself; naturally, like a drunk punch in the gut and a knee to the face, and compassion to boot. It’s the compassion that would mostly do me in, the person who’d stick around in the aftermath…only if inquisitive.

The compatriot fighting in the trenches, blown but left with an ugly chuckle and a nod…that’s what love felt like to me. The end of days; the all gone but not me; the I-will-myself-to-be-by-you, sort of love.

I got hit, a few times. In the beginning I was mostly myself enough to hit back with equal ferocity; with surety and certainty, proclaiming through mirthful laughter that better days are yet to come! How does an old soul like me, now feel the youth wither away around him? That strength gone, beaten one final time, and then I experienced something no person deserves to experience: the past.

A girl, a girl who thinks she’s a woman but so far from it; once I was a boy, a boy who thought himself more man than most…but was farther than she was, from her own fantasy. I’m an extremist, she’d admit. Not sharp enough to use her imagination to stretch the extremities I return from now, tired from my journeys. Done with the waves of emotion and love and trauma and all that goes along with this beautiful ocean we call life.

The same mistakes, the same incessant and incorrigible need to shove her heart down the first throat that uttered two words towards her; fear, abandonment, excitement, agency…love. So much has passed, that a lot I’d lost lies restored to me today; dormant neurons spark, a past forcing me to evolve again.

Is it pity I feel, or is it just force of habit? I think it’s mostly pity for myself, the wasted years, the needless dragging of the self through the mud. And for what? Not a soul to understand, not the soul that was meant to be saved: some curses are too difficult to break.

Love, I find you once again…through so many people, through too many people finding me; and I love you; for, your unwavering harassment; for, sincerely refusing to let go; for forcing my face in the mirror.

For, here I stand looking back at myself wondering, who are you that loves me so?

Written on Wednesday, May 12, 2021