Miraquill
Anger: An addiction
- I drink anger for breakfast,
pour some on my pancakes
some in a burger
and gulp down
two more shots
before going to bed,
but I never puke and it stays-
it stays and it seeps
in my arteries and veins
to my heart and brain
and when it does
I inhale air
which passes through anger filters
alvelois trap some with in and
I exhale air
deoxygneated with
4% madness
and I store it all in,
all in-
magma burns the brain
a fire rises in soul
chaos swirls in heart
but words,
words shiver behind teeth
and tongue is
too week to push them
out
larynx gives up
I sigh
a sigh of exhaustion
and gulp down
two shots of anger
I sleep
-
dopamine
dopamine
complete
-
dopamine
73w
Read More@allbymyself @vansnikatandon @sangfroid_soul
How much more can I take?
Last write up for this year. -
dopamine
79w
Read More
My ma's been buttering me with love ever since her egg turned into a zygote, but the people around have been scalping off love with razors that left behind cracks. Once I was walking on a street full of humans, self doubt then settled down like dust between bones, my ma ran towards me with a cloth to dust away the toxin, but before she could reach me, the wounds were sewed and I was tied to a window while my ma broomed around the house that had its own layers of filth, conspiracies, lies and politics. As the sun sets, she'd make piles of all the garbage she's gathered and would turn to me with more love, but before she could reach me, the trash was thrown on her. I was tied to a window, with self doubt in my bones- the hair that grew on me were of hatred, no matter how many times they were waxed, they'd grow back again. My dad called me strong, and I asked ma why'd he say so and she told me because I'm a warrior but I didn't tell her that every warrior is not strong and warrior just might be an overstatement, for someone who fights with life in day to feel like they belong in it, and with demons at night to feel like they don't belong with them is a warrior ? And did I add the word, fails? Pimples on my face, and I call them failure and self loath for they too won't leave. There's skin and there are scars and there's more skin over them. It's then coloured with rainbows and smiles, tears don't wash away the colours but they do smudge them a little, so the layers on the top, they're beautiful. There are holes in my soul from the thumb pins that were stuck in it everytime I was heart broken or I broke a heart which was later filled up with ignorance.
I never knew who I was, there were way too many layers and I'd been pretending they are a part of me,and now I have forgotten who I am.
Can love help me find my way back to myself again? If yes, will you butter it on me the way ma used to?
-
dopamine
#layersLayers over all these years
Who am I? A pile of layers.
-
dopa -
dopamine
84w
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I write in secrecy maybe that is why I write at all.
I frame my words into a sketch of someone who is not me but someone who lies in every heart out there along with fear.
I avoid truth bombs because they can ignite wars between hearts and minds and you don't want to loosen your grip on suppressed emotions because you'll need them later to beautify your poem.
I place truths on a balance against 30 grams of guilt, then place it in a beaker and pour in 70 litres of lies. I add metaphors; adjectives to diluted truths according to the number of paragraphs- not too much, not too little, just enough.
With my father off to deep seas and grandma struggling to breath, I add a pinch of emptiness and a bucket of pain in those words, ending it with a sigh of exhaustion.
My ma's calling my name so I'll end this abruptly and hide my diary under the sheets,
I write in secrecy, maybe that is why I write at all.
-
dopamine
-now it's on you to deduce how diluted this piece is-
@allbymyself @aureate @iamsleepy @meru_mukh now, this? *sighs in disappointment*Why and how do I write
-
dopamine
88w
Read More
/Maybe we are all leaves,
some live up to see the browns and some
depart in the yellows but we all end up on the ground/
#leaf @allbymyself @aureate @iamsleepywonder, ponder, sonder
What if a leaf out there,
despises the greens and wishes
on a shooting star for rain to pour it with colours.
In a world full of misfits,
we all desire for perfection even
after our hearts make peace with the flaws.
Every leaf is different
from the other like fingerprints with
pigments of hope, pain, guilt, love, gaiety and misery.
We write poems and sing songs,
each verse is all the same but alot different
reflecting chaos and calm which doesn't rhyme but still flows.
Maybe we are all leaves, some green some brown our minds full of knots yet we look
full and empty
serene and tired
plain and wrinkled
-
dopamine -
dopamine
89w
Read More
Beauty is incomprehensible and it lies in every nook and corner of our little world.
Our universe is a chaotic piece of art with strokes of paint, mixed in tears and smiles, smeared all over the blues and greens. It's like a rubik's cube, but with 56 colours instead of 6, randomly placed inspite of their shade or type and every combination they form is different and enthralling.
There's beauty in imperfection and uncertainty and that is what life stands for. The voids are not empty but waiting to be filled, for there's beauty in hope and in failure because when you add a teaspoon of light in a pot of darkness, it will shine like no star ever has.
Beauty is a town- a peculiar one as it resides is us rather than the other way around. It is built with grey bricks, older than humanity has known and it stands tall on pain and love, dreams and aches. And this town comes with a well of realization, for only those who believe in beauty, can feel beauty.
//beauty ain't a woman, but beauty is you and beauty is me//
-
dopamine
@allbymyself @aureate
@writersnetwork @mirakee @writersbay
#beauty #townc Temporary most probably.Beauty: a town that's reside in us
-
Pursuit of happiness and contentment
We don't quite understand what happiness is. We have mispresented it's idea. Some bars too low, some so high. Maybe happiness for us is a distraction from the v o i d s of our soul.
This world needs a SI unit for happiness cause for some it's sleeping in late, getting an opportunity to play video games all day or watch TV shows. While some spend every second every minute every hour looking for happiness in every person they meet, under every stone they see.
But everyone has the same question, "Why does happiness leave your heart faster than the s
a
n
d in your fist?
Happiness and contentment are linked together but we only aim for the former. How will something stay unless you accept it. Do people stay if you don't embrace them? They leave gradually cause every one of us is seeking attention from something or someone.
Lack of contentment leads us beings to kill the fragile human in us. Lack of satisfaction is like a scary shadow that follows us everywhere we r
u
n
We are either too young and naive or too old and wise to grasp the concept of this complexly simple thing.
If we measure happiness in hap. Every one of us has experienced atleast 1hap of happiness once in our life.
It's the small and random things but not the meaningless ones.
Happiness is in different forms, but so is force but they're all measured in newton. Seeing a sunrise and a sunset are both happiness but different branches. One has more contentment than the other. You decide which one.
Maybe, we need to understand, once in a while it is okay to pursue happiness.
Not by studying psychology. No research work but
by writing our own
definition,
theory,
glee.
-
dopamine -
dopamine
100w
Read More
#tbnc tale behind the name
How do I not look back
when the mirror infront of my eyes
shows me all the lanes I(we) have been through
some smooth, some rough
but with your hand in mine
my heart in yours. Persistent.
How do I not run back
when the path ahead is scary
while the ones with the traces of your footsteps
and our love are placid
who'd kill the monsters feasting
on my dreams, if not you. Intripid.
How do I not want you back
when you got me addicted to dopamine
dependant on your smile to give my heart a dose of
happiness instead of wine
but when you left, you took away the keys
to my glands, now I rely on solanin. Poison.
How do I not write you back
even after you stopped sending me letters
my words have always revolved around your existence
blur in the middle, focused on the edges
jagged, sharp and satisfying
words too are falling short to fill the holes you left. Voids
-
dopamine
a quick scribble, hope it's good enough.
@allbymyself @greypages_ @despairDopa-mine
You were my dopamine doses back then
Now I inject myself with your memories,
words and poison in hope to feel a smile
hooked on these chapped lips again
Do you remember how I used to call you
-mine-
-
dopa(mine-no longer) -
dopamine
102w
Read More
i wanted to write something buoyant so i titled it love. it took me two hours to stop, tear the page, wipe away the tears and realise how love is not sanguine but a journey with no mirrors placed at the blind turn, dusty roads that start from one end of the rainbow but rarely do the travelers find the other end.
i flipped the next page and titled it family because they say a happy home is where family is. within an hour i found myself tearing that page. it took me five minutes to gather pieces of myself i spilled in the last hour.
a deep breath.
i titled the next page as friends but it took half an hour for the memories to wrap me and suffocate my already choking lungs. i tore off another page while inhaling toxic mist of betrayal with watery eyes.
(betrayals are worst than onions. noted?)
i scrolled through various apps for an hour searching for joyous quotes but ended up questioning their authenticity, as my heart was still withering. i put my phone away when it hit me, "writers write for themselves." those positive lines, were them watering their own heart. they won't pull me out of the pit but they did pull 'them' out.
i titled the last page of my journal 'sanguinity' and i wrote about the sky. how it's so vast, and holds itself and everything together. it helps me believe in hope. in myself. in good after bad. i call it, sky-a friendly void.
i wrote about him. about her. who'd walk behind me in the storm with a broken rainbow on his shoulder and a withered flower in her hand. i have waited for them to stop, to return. but their belief in me was stronger than a rainbow and a flower.
i wrote about my parents's eternal love. the pure relation between me and my siblings.
i did not write about toska but selcouth.
i wrote about accepting the lacuna. not filling it.
i wrote about happiness and i felt it. the flower in my heart is blooming, slowly.
-
dopamine
------------------------------------
I wrote this while seeing a sunset.
My journey hasn't ended but I now know the purpose. I'll write here again when I feel like it.
@aureate @allbymyself
@sangfroid_soul come back soon. ��
@writersnetworksanguinity
-
Vacancy
Twisted the cap off of a water bottle with my clumsy fingers, distant brain and beating heart not because I was thirsty, but because the empty glass was bothering me
Poured water in the glass as I gawked at at it filling the emptiness, pushing out the air. Air, a false hope that you are full, but nothing is more empty than a jar with air in it. Hence I poured, until the glass was half
Full
Overflowing
Until the bottle was empty.
Hastily I picked up another one, flipped the cap open with my steady fingers, focused mind and racing heart. I poured yet more water in to the choking glass untill the bottle was empty.
I sat in a pile of water and despair with another bottle in my hand, the glass asking me to stop but the hollowness in my body wasn't filling up so I opened the cap. I poured. I wished.
-
dopamine -
dopamine
103w
Read More
It'll be okay. (Temporary like pain and happiness)
@aureate @allbymyself @sangfroid_soulHabromania
Mama asks me,
"Why do you smile everytime the thermometer touches your head?"
How do I tell her I live in a world of illusions
My hope is shaggy yet I hold dreams with my shivering hands and blotched arms
Light is seeping through the holes in my lungs faster than air
And my heart clotted, has stored darkness
But I nevertheless believe
A smile can make it all alright
'I am okay ma. It'll be okay'
And I smile wider
As the lies feast on my soul
-
dopamine
-
rest of my summer
I apologized for
borrowing clouds
to see wet wings
of butterflies
float over pine
cones and air-
you walked upon
my eyes, and I let it
happen again,
with sealed bruises
on my neck
and gazed fallen
star-
rest of my summer
I apologized for
quarantine exhalation,
in hope to survive
across shallow
boxes, and stayed
up late, instead-
right to be there as
tired of life, circled-
©kublakhan -
pio_jasso
48w
rain
he searches
himself,
under
the dimmest
of lights,
surrounded
by cold
dark echoes.
and every shelter
he seeks
becomes
peopled
with wolves
on the broken
river
of reeds.
quiet he prays,
folding
like a flower,
lost
in the woods
of blood
and booze
and the poisonous
exile of rain.
©pio_jasso -
wisteria_
48w
Lately, I have been breaking down, tear by tear, and everything just spilled over. All those parts of me, all those words I collected, telling myself if I learn to use them, then maybe it'll feel better, maybe. All of them lie scattered. I screamed, and screamed, for nothing. I didn't know what I wanted, I just knew I didn't get it. I really didn't know what I wanted. It sure wasn't a face, it sure wasn't a song, it sure wasn't just a text.
My bed is dull grave at night, where it's all timid, timid thought, timid words, timid bawls. I lay here and there trying to laugh and cry. And these days it's hard to stop crying, and I'm trying to look for help. But the words don't help, questions don't help me, neither do people. And I stay here in my company, and it's difficult than before. Or maybe it's lesser difficult than a time before. But I know it's not easy.
I made a habit, of waking up and liking my life, or getting up and doing the things so that I wouldn't look back, and regret. I made a habit of becoming someone. And yet I placed some parts of me in the wrong places, again, wrong yearnings, again. Can yearning ever be right?
I don't know how to strip myself on paper and say things like I wanna die, because I don't know what that would mean either. I'm not very courageous. And I'm filled of questions. I always was. And I let them go, sometimes. Sometimes I hold on, and wait. Right now, it's difficult to do either.
When the eyes blur, the whole world blows up too. I'm waiting to hear my name and not cry. I'm looking for another swing to sit by, on some other park. I'm too used to where I live. Why is so hard to try, why is it so hard to live? It is for everyone, I know. But why. -
okayckay
54w
Read MoreOur existence
is just a
whisper in
the wind
and
we deny it
our whole lives,
desperately
trying to
convince ourselves
that one day,
we can render
the wind voiceless.
And yet, we
remain ignorant
of the fact that
it is the wind
that still blows,
even as our
collective existence
is reduced to dust....it is
the wind
that still
blows even
as our
collective
existence is
reduced
to
d
u
s
t
© OKayCKay -
allbymyself
55w
Read MoreThis is the sunshine
when the roads are still
the creaking of silence
at the edge of a window sill.
These are the paths our
feet have learned to walk
the slipping away of tired steps
whenever there comes a knock.
This is the song born on
the shores of gilded water
bearing the joy of the son
and the tears of the daughter.
This is the day on which
falls the first midwinter snow
the skies which tether the hope
we are too afraid to let go.
This is the war we fight
before the descent of peace
the shadow that stalls the light
before the blood must cease.
- Avitaj
@dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_
Picture credit- Marek PiwnickiGilded Water
Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
Stars at night turned deep to dust
- The Greatest, Cat Power -
allbymyself
56w
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Once upon a time
when the stars were
young, and the hope
of a new dawn hadn't
been stolen from the night
your feet stumbled and
fell from the inky skies
so you lurched from
one nightmare to another
staggered with broken toes
from one impossible dream
and landed in the middle of
another, limped from one
flicker of light to the other
as your breath came in short
bursts and your song was
sweet evanescence that
floated away into that region
of the cosmos which no
human hands have ever touched.
- Avitaj
@dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_
Picture credit- Francesco UngaroSweet Evanescence
Once upon a time
when the stars were young -
allbymyself
66w
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How lovely must it be
that I have the liberty
to seek my own way
and make my own mistakes
safe in the knowledge
that you have forgiveness
seared into every corner
of your infinitely kind heart.
How lovely are the words
that breathe life into
a sunrise, the words
which form the flesh
and bone of a song
the words which don't
make it to the page
yet make you cry.
How lovely is the pause
that split second of silence
the beats of your heart
that shadow at the door
before the chaos breaks out
and screams rent the air
and you think of a child
who showed you love
and taught you to care.
- Avitaj
@dopamine @raika_ - Well, I wrote
Picture credit- Theo EilertsenPauses, Mistakes and Songs
Writing doesn't confer importance. It reflects it.
- Little Women -
thebelljar
62w
Read Moreshe comes home
and switchs off
all the lights
her mother left on.
takes out a flask
from the dimly lit
refrigerator.
(one angry day
and she will
break it's light too).
she turns on her
blue lava lamp,
the only light
she can bear
and sits on the sofa
watching the shadows
on her wall.
the sounds of her
aquarium
puts her brain to sleep.
(she loves water).
oh she's about to fall deep asleep
when the neighbours baby
starts wailing.
startled, she spilled some
on her new sofa.
her mother will ask
numerous questions
regarding the spill.
there are no babies
or questions in the bathroom.
only moonlight and water.
the water turns her breathe
into bubbles
and the sound of bubbles
puts her to sleep again.
@thebluehourdo you feel my heavy heart when we kiss?
-
allbymyself
62w
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Sometimes they laugh
because they do not see
what is so beautiful about
clinging on to candlelit
dreams at the edges of
your hair; they have not
a prayer of comprehending
the peace that floods into
your skin like fresh air upon
holding fireflies in your fingers.
Sometimes they laugh
because they read the words
scribbled but not the soft
laughter that lies between them
they will never have the
simple pleasure of knowing
what music does to your
soul when your body has
forgotten how to listen.
Sometimes they laugh
because they think they
know you because they
have memorized every inch
of your face, and every
unsteady step of your feet
but they never have and
never will know the white
hot flame of your shadow
nor the red mist that is the
cornerstone of your heart.
- Avitaj
@dopamine @raika_ @thegreymetaphor
Hiya. Still here. Just not writing as much these days. But this is my happy place and I will always stay. Somehow. Anyhow.
Picture credit- Asa SteinarsdottirFireflies In Your Fingers
I guess that's part of growing up too. Saying goodbye to the things you used to love.
- Jenny Han (Always and Forever, Lara Jean) -
wisteria_
64w
Read More
I'm unable to write anything else. So it's just me having conversations with myself.
What do you write when you can't think of what to write? Maybe I'm just making an attempt to stand a bit closer to myself. How do you squeeze words out of fluctuating happiness, and a sense of peace that flickers like a candle in wind?
These days I go to bed and feel like a child lost in market, looking for a familiar face. Sometimes I think, certain dysfunctionality doesn't stop you from looking for your parents in a crowd of unknown. I go to bed, like a shivering child.
Especially, when you dream of death, mostly of your loved ones, mornings after are just like those antibiotics, gulped hurriedly, choking a throat. What more can you do, before you part with people, with places, with yourself?
In all the doing, and not letting oneself sit with some thoughts, we all lose parts of ourselves that have a time limit. There's only a certain time you have, to remain human, I feel. And then you just exist, like a bag of memories. Maybe.
I am still human enough. I smiled at a child today. She smiled back. I felt alive in that moment, the way I wasn't in past days. I cried in the cafeteria, a few days ago, thinking I'm back to school days, which I tried so hard to forget. It's still difficult to be the one, whose words rarely come out of mouth, in happy groups.
I'll be alright I guess. I like to think so.
