my secret friends

Swallowing your crushed lips
Swaying with the neon behind my lashes
There descending through your narrow tips
Veins dilate filling with crimson crashes 

Scratching a love that bit like ticks
You inject me with wonderful and terrible things
Intoxicated tongue,
Licking sour treats & sweet tricks
Your fingers tapped powdered nothings

I sank & drowned in your fire
Inhaling a rolling foggy desire
You blew me to float across your milky way
But in a bubble instead you drained me
Then I withdrew from your fix everyday
To watch no more of our tragedy 

I exhaled this down with grinding smiles
Closing this tin box of secret friends
Now dim the flickering lights of your bedroom eyes
As plastic splits our lines to new amends

a Love letter

Dearest Nora,

I was stingy with you because I did not know any better and I have only recently started to learn how to love you so get ready to receive because I’m about to tell you now how much I love you and why I love you in no particular order but to finally put some order and rest in your heart and mind.

So, I love you.

I love your perseverance through adverse and challenging times especially when they have been many and regular.
I love your fierce loyalty towards certain family members and friends, only the ones that listened with love and patience and stood beside you.
I love your wild imagination and attention to details that most people miss.
I love your capacity to forgive yet the assertiveness to not forget.
I love that you when you stumble, which you often do, you do it with grace.
I love your offbeat humor accompanied by hearty laughs and eyes that show it.
I love your kaleidoscope of interests in and out of life and how you bite your lips when you reverse engineer existence in fleeting thoughts.
I love your unwavering interest in the darkest and brightest corners of the psyche with faith in the unseen.
I love how you stand up for yourself unapologetically, you grasp your uniqueness and you are not ashamed to voice it.
I love how you appreciate beauty in the ancient and the aged by time.
I love your humility and adaptability.
I love your honesty and your determination to always uphold the truth no matter how much it stings.
I love how you embrace sensuality felt through the palms of your hands and your fingertips.
I love how you can love intimately and passionately with such devotion and you understand what it means to give your body, heart and soul to someone yet maintaining respectful boundaries remembering that you have always been whole.
I love that you are aware of the lucky ones who are open enough to receive even an ounce of your kindness and compassion and those lucky ones are not many and you are ok with that too. You are also uniquely connected to your dreams and the rhythm of the universe inside your body and outside of it. Not many are even aware of that sort of potential. You are special. You have always been special.

There is a collection of wonderful things about you to love, that I can love, and that many others can love; family, friends, lovers, partners, children, animals.

You deserve to be loved as sincerely and genuinely as you love.

There is no one I would be rather in this life time other than you.

All the light,
Nora

an apology letter

Dearest little Nora,


This is a letter of apology. Another one long overdue. This is your 39year old and a half self. It was a difficult journey to arrive to where I am. Daunting and exhausting. I may have arrived relatively “safely” but the bruises and scars remain and it is ok. I carry them with respect and honor.


I have not forgotten your original pain. In fact, it was your pain that you carried from such a young age that led me, slowly but surely, to this transition point in the cycle of our current life. That very same pain grew into confusion, misguidance and rebellious voicelessness that I have ignored for decades. I knew it was there but I got distracted and experienced the harsher side of life. The kind of ugly that life spewed at an unapologetically sensitive women like myself and that sent me to many rock bottoms along the way. I knew you were different, a wild day dreamer, intermittently energetic, moody as fuck, curious and stranger than most. And because of that, and for the biggest portion of our lives, family suppressed you, friends suppressed you, partners suppressed you, life suppressed you, and worst of all…I suppressed you. Not anymore.


As we both now know, time is a cruel teacher; calculating and patient. Time was not particularly on our side by makings things fast and forgetful instead we lingered and endured and felt every sting through every cell of our being time and time again until by some cosmic mercy it finally granted us the tick of a gentler hand and perhaps now we appreciate time a little and no longer resent it and no longer allow that very same pain to fester.


And time finally stood still in that instant when I saw you completely, I heard you and I stood up for you and held you gently in my heart and mind where you can finally be wild and free and just be you. That instant that is rightfully ours. No longer in anyone’s shadow and instead in your own and unafraid. The embodiment of love and freedom in solitude.


I am sorry it took this long but as they say;

better late than never.

Yours in light,

Nora

will you?

will you…
enter into my world softly and ignite a curious flame?

will you…
trace the cracks on my shell and fill them with shimmering gold?

will you…
play with the child, reassure the teen and elevate the woman?

will you…
breathe in me your fire, quiet my winds and still my waters?

will you…
listen to my silence, read my tears and write gentle caresses on my skin?

will you…
offer your body freely, share your mind boldly and fuse your soul wholly?

will you…
flow with me, glow with me, grow with me?

will you…
swim against the current with me?

will you?

No. I didn’t think so.

not

A revival of sorts. A reemergence of emotions, thoughts, perceptions, dreams & nightmares. A grand opening of the soul. A display of inner wonders. Beginning with, of course, a rant of repressed emotional histories.

I am not a mind for you to cloud. I am not eyes for you to shield. I am not ears for you to deafen. I am not a mouth to spit your words. I am not a throat for your halo to choke. I am not breasts for your misery to nurse. I am not emotions for you to sicken. I am not legs to tread your path. I am not a body for your release. I am not a soul for you to posses. I am not a heart for you to break.

I am. I am. I am. I am nothing. I am everything. I am mine.

 

 

decline or accept

Why is it that the green accept button is always on the right? And the slide option is towards the right too? The right side is inherently associated with the right choice, like the Angel that sits on your right shoulder, looking over you, whispering goodness and stuff. What if I’m left-handed? Anyway, I digress. Still, the choices we made, wrong or right, ends up being the right purposeful one somehow. No matter how shitty the choices and the voices were, and how shitty the consequences and screams became, it is always, and indefinitely, unapologetically, the right choice.

But I made some pretty bad choices which have affected me to this day. I am healing now though. I made a choice to heal myself. As I painfully discovered that no one and nothing can truly heal you except yourself. So I dragged myself out of the muck by sheer wilful force. A force that I never knew existed but still came out of that ancient place within me that declined being dragged down, controlled, subdued, or subjected and misguided by substances or people. I have forgotten what is was to be self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-respecting and free. I wonder if I ever was free. I wonder now if I can really begin to understand self-love.

At long last, I am transitioning, hopefully, into a person that is prepared, ready, exhausted and willing enough to accept. I am no longer resisting the accept button, no longer surrendering to decline the truth, or accept a downward spiral. Fuck that shit. It’s not worth it. Things are not worth it. People are not worth it. And the notions and ideas and pasts memories and misconceptions and grudges and anger no longer serve weight to intoxicated victories or infested emotions or warped existential psychological freedom. It only served as a dead weight, a paper weight holding down papers that should fly free when the winds of change come gushing.

I accept that I have emotional issues that need to be addressed and taken care of and it’s ok for me to take my time into understanding them.

I accept that forgiving my parents and moving on from the resentment I held towards one or both of them is essential to my individual growth and finding out who I am with and without the reflections of their inadequate selves projecting through me and my behaviour.

I accept that letting go of people who have existed in my life for too long and accepting the differences and changes that have occurred between us is part of a bigger plan and accepting that fact is the best thing I could have done to myself in so fucking long.

I accept that I live in a unforgivingly negative country thriving on socio-economic issues, political mistrusts and soul-pollution and it is going to take years for any pure change to take affect.

I accept that I must live in a bubble.

I accept that I must work very fucking hard to achieve any relief financially, physically,  emotionally and ultimately spiritually. Very fucking hard.

I accept the Now most of all. I accept the Past and I accept the Future as non-existent entities that have piqued the denial I’ve lived in and robbed me from true clarity.

 

 

 

dry me a river

A river of expression has been flowing within me but that flow keeps coming to a splashing halt against this invisible dam. I have no idea what sort of dam it is or why it is there. But it is there. Majestic, thick, menacing and shall not let my thoughts, feelings or creative purge flow at all.

I am stuck in this state. Over the past couple of weeks I have been delaying, procrastinating, writing a post because I kept yo-yoing between what topic I wanted to write about. I had one topic lingering that I chose to title “forgiving the parent(s)” and others that kept bouncing off the peeled plaster of the walls in my head. They are still bouncing, mad, like angry birds.

Could it all have started with the parents? The agony of growing up? The blaming game when the going gets tough?

So this is a post of my inability to purge in hopes that it still succeeds in purging something.

My mind is restless. My body is screaming for a change. For a state of what it once was. Self-effacing, self-loathing. Sometimes I can feel pretty good actually that I have come a long way. Faced shitty people, shitty environment, shitty substances, shitty realisations. And sometimes I wonder what went right. What went wrong again. What went where why? Back and forth, forth and back. The mental cobwebs go as quickly as they come, like the spider themselves, always in a hurry, always still. The left side of my body is out of balance. From my left eye to my left foot. All the points and joints hurt. But still, I am, amazingly, astronishngly, surviving unscathed. Just yet, for now. Sipping on tea with milk. Extra milk. With that sourly sweet aftertaste at the back of my throat.

want

Not too many years ago, some eyes rolled one day because I had an opinion about relationships.

My opinion was that we all want something from each other.

I never quite understood why I got heat back then and for the longest time I felt shaken over such an obvious concept we perform consciously and subconsciously. I began to scrutinize matters of the innately selfish human condition, how I dealt with people and how others dealt with each other. I surprised and contradicted myself many times, got confused, lost face but hell, I came out knowing I was right.

Not too many years later, and after a cascade of heavy experiences, I still believe in that opinion, and if anything I reaffirm it more now since ultimately we do want something from each other whether anyone cares to admit it or not. I am not afraid to declare that, yes, I want something from you. For example, I want you to read this post, provide an opinion, a critique, think, hate it, like it, ignore it, whatever. You will still provide a reaction that I may want and may not, that you may share or may not share depending on what you want. But I want something useful still. Something that can inspire me, amend me, help me grow, shake and stir my emotions for a moment to reassemble me, or you.

Just because I “want” something doesn’t mean that I want it because I am a an emotional hoarder who is keeping track of everything that everyone has given to me so I could feel special for a while until I want more. No. I could want the good company of a good friend. I could want you to pass the salt. I could want to share something meaningful and beautiful in any given occasion over any random reason for no particular intention. I could want to be alone. I could want to make a move. I could want you to make a move instead. I could want to be evil, do something bad and hurtful. I could want to be understood or appear enigmatic. I could want want itself.

What are relationships loosely based on if not on a certain specific and non-specific set of exchangeable actions and reactions? Who, out there, who, can really not expect something in return? Or at least half-expect something they want returned in some form or another? We attempt to be humble and say we will not expect anything, a brave and noble attitude, but some time during the day and night we expect and want, if not need, secretly; attention, appreciation, money, gratitude, sex, praise, love, ass-licking, a smile, forgiveness, a kiss, a slap on the face, a ding on the phone; because ultimately we want to be acknowledged, we want to stand out, we want to have an opinion. We want to exist in someone else’s world. We want our wants to be addressed and what better way but the wonderful world of social media; the glossy happy helper that asks me every day “what’s on my mind”? Then we end up writing a status, because guess what, we want it to be out there. We make a post knowingly and willfully. It’s a choice we all make. And we make a choice when we want it and when we know it is going to benefit us somehow like a comment, a like or even silence.

No one is completely selfless. No one is completely all-giving. No one expects nothing. No one.

 

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