I’ll Sleep On The Floor

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I said I’ll sleep on the floor tonight. With Bon Iver playing from the vinyl on the top of your bookshelf. I turn my head to face the mason jar filled with “reasons to live” I scribbled with my trembling left hand at four in the morning when I thought I’d lost you to the flame colored crimson blood on your arms. And I told you I’d write you a song, a poem hell I’d even write a book for you but you didn’t need my words you needed so much more.

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Sick Boy

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I can still see it clearly, tree trunk arms heavy with muscles glowing in rage.
A compass leading into the depths of irrationality, the city is filled with friends of friends and faces dipped in familiarity yet the streets keep leading me to dark hair lined by streaks of dusk and high cheekbones glossy under the summer sun. Jade green veins popping up from underneath your skin just below the wrist, forming maps of places I could never get to know. Turbulent voices laced in confidence but I could tell when it cracked falling low reaching for the ground gazing into the dirt with eyes that screamed of superiority closeted fears of rejection and loss of love yet to be found.

As skyscrapers of guilt so easily slept beneath a heart so bleak, clouded with fractures of repressed emotions waiting to be set free as you stand in line trying to fulfill youthful desires. Don’t forget who you are, who you used to be.
It’s never too late to late to take a dip into reality, muffled sounds and beaten down arms that beg for your return. It’s never too late to open your eyes.-H

The World I Live In

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Grounded in a society overdosing on poverty, yet money still goes down drains when it’s time for her to marry him. Aren’t they supposed to be cousins?
My mornings start with a sense of emptiness when my eyes still blurry search screens for news better than another suicide bombing. But it’s never really there.

Living in a country that flaunts physical abuse and people still joke about hitting their wives. It’s all so fucked up but no one gives a fuck, so it only just gets worse while the people around me find solace in criticism of the next nerd that walks by as judgemental stares follow those with voices that speak of more than the next trend on twitter.

While they successfully land on Mars, we lie constricted in numb realities where couples can’t hold hands in public and smokers are sinners. We are choking on our own stupidity, using religion to do everything but the right. And it’s like sitting in a room on fire, being the only one awake it’s awfully hurtful and slightly annoying how ignorant the people around me are. Yet sometimes it feels like I’m sleeping in the same ignorance as them. When churches are burnt on Sunday’s and Mosque’s fall to the ground the very next week. It gets harder to believe.-H

No One’s Always Happy

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I’d been thinking how most people on this Earth spend their lives fitting everything into perfection, bending and curving to find a place inside this box labeled “Perfect”. Perfect house, perfect car, a perfect job and on and on it goes, this endless list people obsess over.

He was one of these people not completely though he was just the kind who hated uncertainty, they liked to plan things, have them in order so nothing could go wrong. The kinds that were optimistic and had wide smiles on their faces, the ones who believed that life is too short to be sad. He wore color, bright eye-catching color. He danced with the wind, stood in the rain and he never gave up. I admired that, that motivation to keep going, that strength to stand among the dreamers, the hopeless romantics and the wild ones.

I was more cynical, a pessimist. I was the antagonist with him being the protagonist of my story, our story.
I had given up on perfection, plans and dreams long ago. I had accepted defeat, I had lost the war against life itself. Each of us fight this war at some point in our existence, most of us like me end up defeated.

This is a war that never ends, life fights you with every step you take, weather what profession you choose or what TV show you watch next each choice comes with a battle. Most of us give up when we take a look at the weapons life has against us, money problems, bills and so much more. That’s what makes us give up on our dreams. The future that life shows us scares us. We forget that we are the ones that make our own future.

We forget the power we have, we feel intimidated and we shrink into ourselves we walk the path life chooses for us. And then we become sad doctors with depression, miserable drop-outs and deadbeat dad’s or mom’s. We lose. And we become bitter. Our outlook on life changes. Colors start to fade and everything just gets darker. Scarier.

I always envied those who seemed eternally happy, always content with their emotions and had their lives in order. But wasn’t long untill I realised, no one is always happy. None of us have it as good as it seems we do. The only difference is that some of us give up too early and others are just to rigid. So they bend but never break.-H

Literature

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You’re somewhere far away, cornered in the very corner of a room. Stranded against a wall. The paint chipping off as memories start to fade. The drink does what it does when it enters your veins, the inside of your brain. Rotting away setting fire to what we build. Our sand castle falling to the ground in one swift motion as your hands grip her hips. Moving, from side to side. Moving, everything’s moving too fast, how are you holding on? Or did you let go, was that long ago?

Because you were the epitome of beauty, the definition of catastrophe. An unexpected flow of events that hit me in the head, a tail twisted to its very core. So much so that it looses all meaning, therefore becoming a meaningless verse of fourteen lines on a page. Us. A paragraph, an essay, a form of literature epicaly written. A shame no one dared to read. Not to the ending anyways.

The ending, did we even bother to write one? Or did we just leave it upon fate to decide the crashing of our spaceship, not a landing, never a landing. Because when two forces so strong as us come together, they are bound to burst. To blow up, just drop the bomb already. Heave the heavy matter that lays upon your chest into my bare hands, watch me carry it the way home. And then when I look back, I expect you to do the unexpected.

Leave.-H

Auguries |A Poem

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And we will bleed into the city.
Shattering hearts
Our souls will start to disintegrate.

Under heavy skies,
Clothes dripping wet in the rain.
Your eyes holding storms inside.

Bringing the fantasies we concoct to life.
An exchange of words, not much to say.
Tounges clashing as fingernails are dragged across skin.

A blank canvas is filled with Inc.
Memories painted across walls in black and white.
They show signs of you and I.-H

The Universe

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There are poets who write about the collision of atoms, the laws of the cosmos meaning the laws of the universe itself, the forming of constellations and then they compare it to the love they have for their significant other.

I can’t seem to do that. I mean have you looked up at the sky? That giant never-ending monstrosity, the void that is the universe. And I don’t mean staring at pictures of the stars through a mobile screen then writing poetry about how they shine so brightly.

I mean the planets, I mean what a telescope shows you. I mean looking up as soon as you’re out from under a roof. Just looking up.

And some people are too afraid of the universe to ever look up, they say it makes them feel small. It makes them shrink into themselves. And I understand that, but at the same time I don’t.

Because at the same time I know that when I look up at the sky it’s a constant reminder of how large I truly am. Because I myself am a part of the fucking universe. And the universe is a part of me. The very molecules that make our body mass are the molecules found in the center of high mass stars that exploded into the galaxy. How amazing is that? How fucking amazing.

Because the following are the very words of a genius himself,

“We are all connected to each other biologically, to the Earth chemically and to the rest of the universe, atomically.” -Neil deGrasse Tyson

How does that make you feel? Knowing you are not nothing but a part of the galaxy.-H