Uncertainty

It's this millisecond where fantasy & reality meet. You try your best to mix & blend them smoothly like paint on paper joining sea & sky at the horizon.

And a flying bird.

But you fail. Maybe because you haven't been given a chance. Or maybe because you're using the wrong kind of paint.

Or maybe because you dream too big.

Sometimes it's hurtful to see things for what they are.

Outside your head.

And what hurts more than missing someone is realising that they never were but a false impression you've had of them. And so it turns out you're

missing a ghost.

It sounds quite fanciful to be in love with a ghost, I know. But sometimes, some days, when all what you thought things meant fade away, you stand there naked, vulnerable & confused, and the imaginary doesn't seem to help cover you up.

Make believe breaks down at times.

It's a rainy day today, and you don't like the rain. But I'm not allowed to care anymore.

Scenes of the Heart

Scene #1

We're sat at a cafe facing each other. There's tea fumes & cigarette smoke. We're speaking about big things; things so big it feels like we've been sat in silence with hands crossed all this time; because only silence can explain big things, for words are not concrete, and nothing of what holds the world together is. Love, hate, happiness, anger, it all exists in fluidic dimensions. And so we speak, but we're really just keeping silent. I feed on the quiet, and I grow.

Scene #2

We're sat side by side as we both stare out into the space before us. Big things are space, because only space is open ahead, and words imprison big things. We decide not to utter them this time. There's the sound of the car engine, the sound of cars passing crosswise one after another on the other lane of the road, and the sound of the wheels rolling over speed breakers every few seconds. There's silence in patterns, and there's big things. Then there is his scent filling me up. It feeds my very own inner space, and I grow.

Scene #3

It's all crystal clear now. I drink the water with eyes closed, and I feel like a red rose with thick green leaves. And as I swallow, I feel the water going down in streams into my body, flooding every single deep root of me. And so I bloom.

And I grow.

When the World Stopped Spinning

The apparition of his face amongst the restless world:

A conjuration of the feminine; an embracement to it