lightness

have the scales been ripped off this ghostly heart? are they in the process of shedding their hidden claws off my palpitating muscle?

something has deposited in me tonight--intangible but struggling & for once not beaten down yet

i cannot ascertain its form but i feel a certain lightness

like i can feel invincible again
like i can crawl from this, maybe not stand but maybe, just maybe i can move away from this wreckage & rebuild it with the same knifed hands

my heart is still sinking but it has gone past the sunken stage

i don't wish to sleep because i may wake up & have that dreaded stone of a heart again

where am i

i keep confusing 'unreality' with the 'real' world
what am i grasping on to? this senselessness that pervades the air, are my very hands the accomplices (among many others) which mould it into something that will gratify my prejudicial perspective of the world? such that when my hands are no longer reaching, or out of reach, the same senselessness that made vague sense a few minutes ago become formless?

the same senselessness that killed dreams

was just telling j yesterday that i feel like everyone is struggling for a piece of the world & the world has no place for me, in which she said 'it's true, the world has absolutely no place for us, we don't belong here"

i want to believe it with every ounce of my heart
but my love is weak

took a long time to fall into slumber last night, was staring at the ceiling of my wall, watching the light dance & shadows engulf any remnant of light left with every passing car downstairs, yet the light from the street lamps reflected below never failed to bounce back after every fleeting car--

is that what faith is like?

hovered on the brink of unconsciousness half-ill between grotesque reality & killed, savage dreams,
turning ideas at the back of my head

where i had an image of a clenched fist encapsulating a hapless fruit
the clenched fist tightened around the helpless fruit
tightening, tightening
until the juice of the fruit was excreted & collected in a pool below
until all that was left, trapped in the unrelenting fist was pulp
useless pulp
bound for the bin, bound for the incinerator
bound to be ashes

& i wondered if i was the juice or the pulp

society only rejoices with the competent
& eradicates the rest

who am i to struggle against the suffocating fist?

she looked at the girl at the base of the mountains cowering in the shadows of incompetency

& she scorned at her colossal failure

she whispered ferociously with jauntiness, "let it wound you, till you bleed dry, till all that's left is a hollow cavern, let the oozing blood from your eyes & heart seep back into your pores, absorb it all, till your soul starts to scream for a respite & morphs into another lifeless being, till the incarnation is complete."

not knowing that she herself was still living in the ineffable realm of unreality, within reality
that she was merely acting like a tourist in the woken world
that she & the girl are one & the same

sovereign

lord you are still good regardless

in this battle of self-worth i pray that you will rip the scales off my ghostly heart that refuses to see your goodness

and i lift this knifed heart into your hands

invincible

spent the night listening to bedroom hymms & jotting down the great gatsby quotes, conscious that tomorrow is such an important day for many beloved people & aware that my stake is trivial in comparison to the others 

so i shove the anxious nerves back under my skin.  

trying to negate the contingency of having to deal another /unbearable/ year with chinese with invincibility--

i love how listening to florence & the machine makes me feel invincible

like i am capable of anything & everything

-- can i just say the trailer of the great gatsby ("gatsby? what gatsby?") thrills me so much & peaks when florence starts howling--

florence is golden, her voice is a deathless song 

please lord i pray that chinese will be bygones

but lord over all i pray that You will guard the hearts of all & never let them go

help us to be in a posture of thanksgiving for what You have settled for us 

tempest

emotionless effusions from the walls
but walls have ears
do not be deceived

beneath those walls is a tempest
stirring a hurricane of mangled emotions

i have ears
i absorb

maybe at the end
everything, including the broken pieces will be blown away
& to the wingless all that remains is a cavern

i live in cages

sometimes i feel like if i scream hard enough, darkness encapsulated in my heart will be surged forth & travel through my palpitating veins out of my system

then turn into ashes at my feet

other times, i feel like a little girl standing at the foot surrounded by intimidating mountains in the cage of my own mind

cowering but never being able to break free