Hello again, everyone! And to the new followers that have appeared recently: Welcome to DAYDREAM MADNESS, a place of honest, complex thoughts expressed by yours truly.
Found myself eager to write tonight. I also wrote a few poems earlier on in the day.
Wanted to share a poem with you today. This will be in my poetry book when it’s finally published. Title & release date is yet to be announced but this piece will give you a clue if you read down the starting points. Or perhaps it already sounds familiar?
This piece is called “MUSES & ARCHIVED EMOTIONS”
Love; a sacred archive of past emotions, the morning sun to our gray beginnings
you were and you still are the object of my affection until oxygen ceases my brain
It began harmlessly enough, I never expected it to change my perspective of love,
but with all departures; will come sadness. Suddenly, you’re lost in the madness.
Had a charm for days, a smile that could make anyone’s stomach fill
with butterflies just from a simple look. It was muse at first glance
and as I look again on it, maybe it was meant to happen.
You gave me this vibe – a sentimental yet swiftly cold aura, I knew in my heart I’d place you in the depths of my heart. As much as I like to deny it for all it is worth, you truly got me struck with 3 words. From the hello that shaped our moments, to the silent goodbye-
and the spiral of repetition cycles, this was true; regardless of what you think of us now.
”Pistanthrophobia; the fear of trusting”
Drove me mad, but kept me happy. Made me cry, yet you’re the rays of sun on my face,
we made a mess of our time, something we’ll never get back, but I’ll treasure this
and it doesn’t matter if we don’t ever speak again, having you once was enough.
I am not your only love, neither would I expect it from a heart of such charm
although it does get to me, how I’m now the ghost of your past.
Surely, it must have meant the world to you at some point,
or maybe it did not- since you didn’t love me at first chance.
I wish I could understand your reasons for letting go,
because it’d bring me well-needed peace.
I can only hold on to the memories we built-
and the ones we never had the chance to.
Never truly had the balance, nor the patience
to really be in sync with reality’s harsh brutality.
I’ve always coated my blues with hues of nostalgia
and rose colored shade of happier times in tact.
I see relief when I stand in the pouring rain as it falls,
a sense of weightlessness when a melody strikes my ears,
it feels like I can’t be torn apart, almost like I’m indestructible.
it’s like a kiss of calm; something I rarely feel,
and sadness feels like a distant memory.
“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little,
love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that – I love life.
But it is hard, and I have so much – so very much to learn.”
When love hurts; it’s the real kind. I found myself saying that,
as I bit my tongue and patiently waited for tears to stop falling down.
I’ll be okay, you said. stupid enough, but I fell for that lie.
Years down the line, here I am. I feel more broken than ever and it’s all because I can’t seem to let go of past memories that now haunt my soul like a skeleton in the closet.
As the days turn into months and then so forth, you start to feel empty inside, like nothing could hurt you more because it’s already too painful. I trusted you when you said I’d be okay, that it was okay to feel like this as long as I knew it was going to get better.
I now found it all to be a complete lie. I found it wasn’t better, no improvement in the slightest and I feel like a fool for thinking I could believe you after your departure.
I’m sure everyone’s thinking the same; poor girl, having a pity celebration for days.
although, it was far worse; it was the definition of ice-cold hatred towards self.
Sure, they both are pretty much the same thing, but I guess it depends…
I’ve found solace in written drafts, hidden notes all over the web.
personally, it’s a relief to pour my emotions out in peace like this.
I know, I’m not the greatest writer or artistic creation – I’m a mess.
Honestly, poems are a loophole, a sense of belonging and unconditional support, something that will never just stand up and walk out the door, or tell you it doesn’t love you anymore, unlike the people who walk in and out of your life as if your existence is fading. I write to free my soul of pain, to feel the weight fall off my shoulders, just to feel alive once again. I’m sure it means little or nothing to others, but without my creativity, I’d most likely not be here anymore and that’s just how that is. I feel it completes me, strengthens me and helps me rise from the ashes no matter how badly I burn in the fire of the moment and the pain of old tragedies. Nostalgia finds itself around me still though.
As I write this, I overthink the concept without intent, I censor my mind to sound less of a crazy person than I already think I am. I judge my every word before anyone gets a chance, I find myself writing all the things my mind is thinking. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, neither do I even know the difference. but regardless, here I am; as bare and brutally honest as a person will ever be, sharing a piece of me I’d usually keep to myself.
Writing in general helps me cope, it’s the one thing I turn to in times of pain.
We’ve survived another 365 days of endless mayhem & crazy moments,
as we end this year with a bang, we take a look down memory lane.
We remember all the moments that changed us, bettered us, hurt us.
& regardless, we are grateful; for those have made us stronger as a whole.
Although we have a long journey to go, we continue to grow as souls.
It’s been quite a year, some moments better than others,
perhaps a balance; of all things, strange & un-expected.
Personally, it’s been one hell of a realization for me, myself & I.
I’m grateful for everything though, it helped me discover a lot
and it makes me more eager to explore what’s next to come.
And to whoever has struggled this year: we’ve made it!
I’m so proud of anyone who has struggled & yet still fought on
it’s not easy to deal with our problems, it’s endless at times
but getting through it despite it all is an accomplishment.
With each year, we learn more about ourselves as a whole,
we discover parts of us we never knew existed
as well as finding strength we never knew we had.
This year has been full of risks, anxious moments,
self-loathing, overthinking, but we still made it through.
I have a good feeling about 2016 though, it’s kind of nice.
Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone!
I hope it’s a good one for you and even if it isn’t
then just know that you’re worth so much.
Stay strong, I love you all!
The faces are always you, by the looks of it, and I’m tired of pretending like I don’t love that, or the fact you make me ever so smitten, despite the amount of distance between us. It could be years from now and I’d still feel your hologram hand on my shoulder, flickering lights go off in my head and I am alive once again. The day you touched my soul, it turned gold. Memories live on inside of my mind and I don’t think I’ll ever want to forget your effect. As crazy as it seems, you’re a dream come to light, angels and demons would have a fight when it comes to your source of energy. It was a mix of good and bad, the kind of balance anyone would lean over for, would fight all their lives to gain just an ounce of. You see drugs on a table as a bad influence, but not the walking temptations that roam the streets, breaking the hearts of doomed souls for a laugh. Addictions can rise from a simple touch to a captivating smile. Anything or anyone can make you feel alive. Even your worst enemy can give you something you’ve never had, life is full of twists and turns, and we’ll never learn, because that’s a part of our lives, we make a mess, we make amends, but the heart stays true to it’s belief.
This was going to be just a blog full of poems, but I want this to be a mix of topics
& subjects in terms of writing. It’s not all about poetry, you know.
Writing is that addictive hint of mystery, clarity & history in the making.
It’s more than just getting your heart broken and putting thoughts to paper
but it feels like people forget sometimes, more than that
I know I forget the whole meaning of it from time & time
and it feels like a sin, if I can put it lightly.
Ever since I could, I’ve been writing & writing but never that good
& of course, the inspiration wasn’t something I looked for back then
but I definitely understood it more as I began my teenage years.
Looking back at my past work is sometimes a difficult task.
I find myself broken-hearted, anxious, scared & hurting once again
I’m in a simulation of the past; feeling all my fear coming back to life
all the memories flood back like a sea coming back & over the shore
there are things I like about it all, there are things I’d like to forget
& sometimes there are things I wish I could erase & paint a better memory.
But there’s a lot I’m grateful for, when it comes to this:
1. The struggles helped me change for the better.
2. I overcame my demons even though I struggle at times.
3. Fear no longer consumes me like it once did.
Those are only a few of the things, but I could definitely state more.
Sometimes we have to be lost in the dark in order to find our purpose.