missing

homesickness is not just for a familiar place

but for a familiar part of myself

wanderlust is not just for an undiscovered place

but for an undiscovered part of myself

wherever i go, there i am,

missing

I wrote this poem maybe an hour ago after an exhausting day/week. It’s funny how my brain and my heart are cycling through so many different emotions that it’s hard to keep track of and I can barely answer the question: “How are you?” Struggling to balance emotions, I believe, is a sign that a person is keeping too much inside and not putting enough on paper. I haven’t been writing regularly because I’m studying for the GRE. The test is next weekend and I’m so happy to get it over with. It’s put my life on hold and my novels at a standstill. Of course when ideas and characters’ voices pop into my head, I immediately write/type something down or save a voice note on my phone. I’m always afraid of missing the important things in life. I suppose I will always have that fear, no matter how much older I get. 

poem day 11

i’m so out of touch

so out of reach

but i didn’t ask to be put up here

why do you keep thinking about me

just forget me please

i’m only transitory

it’s easier that way, believe me

your feelings will dissipate the way my memory of

the possibility of us did

you can live on, you will live on

you grabbed the ticket for the wrong flight

but someone will guide you to the right gateway

if you’d just stop looking up and waving back at me

stop squinting through the clouds awaiting my landing

i’m flying solo for infinity

atleast for now

my toes can’t seem to touch the ground

how did you get down there, anyhow?

poem day 10

i’m growing old and wrinkly
on the inside
my brain, mottled
my heart, tepid
my lungs, indolent
sooner or later i’m going to break down
if only they’d let me
if only they didn’t try to prove me wrong

trying to give me more life when i’m already full
tempting me with seconds and thirds
plastering it on the surface
with spackle and glitter,
needles and glue

i’m growing old and wrinkly
on the inside
but nobody cares
everyone knows it’s what’s on the outside that counts

poem day 9

i’m addicted to this thing called ambition

what a soul-sucking, self-depleting drug

gets you on a temporary high

pushing you through life

craving more, wanting more, needing more

one thing on your mind

before you know it you’ll do anything

gotta have it

before it’s too late, you’re hanging out with the wrong crowd

the one’s dealing ego and id

spend all your time anxiously wasting away

in hopes that the future will bring better days

of relaxation and bliss

just hope it doesn’t kill me before my time is up

gotta trade in for something better

it’s never going to be enough

poem day 6

what does it mean

the feeling of being wanted

my body gets tired

as my heart gets ripped out of my chest

and hovers above the heart of another

i try calling it back

with my biggest, bravest voice

but nothing will happen

no fiber will stir

only the softest, warmest hushes can bring it close

i’m not used to being so gentle

i’m used to being in control

poem day 4

dulling beads of pain

suffocating my vision

weakening my concentration

so begins my battle to survive the night

me versus the migraine

hazy auras

pungent smells

dizzy sensations

i’m too stubborn to submit

pop a pill if i must

or let nature take its course

don’t stress, don’t stress, they say

just relax, it would just all go away

but i’m not backing down

i can’t stop my pace

my body is my tool

and i must be in control

me versus the migraine

only one of us will be here in the morning

swallow life whole | an original poem

sometimes you get that little buzzing feeling in your underbelly

when you feel mischief pulsing in your veins

reckless abandon caressing the nape of your neck

pecking your cheeks

and you hope to god the devil didn’t send those winds of change your way

because everything seems ready at your feet

awaiting your pearly white teeth

to take a bite

and swallow life whole

no water necessary

forgive me, if i am the only one who knows how that feels

i figure it would be nothing short of narcissism

to believe that temptation only tempts

the severely unkempt folk like me

it isn’t that easy you know

fighting