nor of the west

spring

leave me alone

i don’t want to go to your party and i don’t want to explain why

i want to roll my shoulders out of the upcoming events
just as easily as i roll off the winter coat that has otherwise held me in

the air is confused, it’s like oil mixing with water under a car
not quite sure whether it’s one colour or many

i don’t want to

warm up to any excitements

not yours, not anyone’s

its just not about you,
so much so, that there is no you in my mind

i’m stirring like i do every spring
to things and peacefulness beyond what the world has ever given me

i want to be nowhere, but i definitely don’t want to be here

the warm air brings with it a nausea that might bring up everything that i’ve apparently been holding down

at once i breathe in and turn away from the breeze that will be my undoing

over empowered

Sometimes I think my generation of women has been over empowered

We’ve been told we can have whatever we want
and we don’t need to stand in any line

But we’ve forgotten how to keep our mouths shut,
as we are too well trained in asking questions and making observations,
performing analysis and passing judgment

Why do I feel like womanhood should have some guidance to offer me,
like its not just that all interactions and relationships are doomed to be fucked up anyway

Which relationship has not turned sour in some respect
or become a source of anxiety
or forced me to shut down a part of myself while in it?

But maybe our
over education
over empowerment
over qualification
over contribution
over earning
over seeing
over questioning
are the reasons why things are just over

Can there be two functioning brains in any conversation that will yield an outcome both desire?

It’s also entirely possible that the problem is just me
and unfortunately I can’t see me
which is a real pain

I have to believe that if gender is how we cut it
then neither one is all that cracked up to be

The fight isn’t with the Man
Apparently, it’s just for the Power
And against your own urges,
To SAY SOMETHING.

homespun

i wish you would be happy with what i am

but it’s hard for you
because i’m cut from a cloth you find difficult, stiff and scratchy

i’ve laid myself against the hot iron of your expectations
so often that i’m pliable beyond requirement
and even i’ve started to believe that your way of being, is better

i’m willing to adapt and i even see the benefits
of taking risks, dreaming big, of doing and being everything that my weavers never apparently contemplated

sadly an unplanned douse of cold, watery reality is all it takes to undo the careful treatments we’ve applied

and your ensuing disappointment is felt in every limp thread

i silently implode with anger and disgust
at the state of my development
over which i had no control
until such time as control became synonymous
with a near-complete rejection of
the values and approaches of the people
who gave me everything i needed
to get here

navigation

things never feel good unless they’re done right
and the alternative of not doing them
doesn’t actually exist

voyages are commenced more casually than perhaps they would be
if we knew just how many days we’d be at sea

there isn’t a whole lot of room for error
and somehow the course to chart is completely up to me

this is an impossible navigation
not least because the holes in my mind’s ship
are getting larger every day

i will keep sailing until whatever end;
i’m a survivor

but i’m not sure that i’ll ever have the option to thrive

rat race

i just want to be good at something
lose myself in something
choose myself for something

now i apply patches to holes that keep appearing in the roof
and i’m really good at keeping the place dry
but only because i’ve been able to move fast

there’s no furniture at home
but there are no puddles either

everything is clean and
non-existent

mindfulness

blue jellyfish in water — Photo by Diogo Brandao on Pexels.com

I’m using up all of my energy treading mind’s water,
afraid to sink below the surface even for a moment.

It’s not that I can’t hold my breath;
it’s that shutting my eyes and allowing the waves to take me under
will heighten my eternal senses,
my heart.

I’m avoiding being silent, avoiding it quite deliberately,
swimming from activity to caffeinated activity,
creating more reasons to stay here, afloat.

I’m afraid to know what’s down there

but more afraid that
despite my long-held belief that the darkness is also home to a sunken treasure,

there won’t be anything else at all there with me
and I’ll know that I am truly alone.

nights like these

man walking on the empty street — Photo by Alex Fu on Pexels.com

sometimes i really want to dip my toes back into the stream of the past

my fun apartment late nights on the streets of capital of nations
and other places in my head

all the moments stretched out as far as they could

before gooping back like chewing gum

its actually a lot easier now

because im trying to remember a feeling

rather than building one anew

where i have to crawl through it and feel around the walls to figure out, where am i

this is like being back somewhere familiar

i know where all the keys on my keyboards are

but i have to start from what feels right to know

what the next letter will be

its nights like these that

make me want to fall in love again

on a walk with a stranger

on a rain-soaked street in suburban university city drinking SoBe from sobeys

i’ve been here before

and thats exactly why i need to leave

this intoxication with intoxication itself is cringeworthy

even though it’s been,

so much fun

no vacancy

all the thoughts that have come before
have been my imperfect religion

there really isn’t room for
everything that once passed through my mind
to become a tenant now

you know that,
eviction won’t really be in the cards and we’ll have a whole host of other problems on our hands then

it won’t be the crowding —

it will be the breeding

bringing out mutants
whose only fault is their existence

spring

building with tree — Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

when things are left alone long enough,
signs of new existence eventually seem to emerge
from the cracks

we’d like to say spring always finds a way;
that life has found a way

the only question is whether we think we are central
to the undeniable powers that flow
through, and which shape, the ages

all the existants that preceded us,
came from somewhere
and turned into someone too

stay home

photo of black sand beach — Photo by Marc-Antoine on Pexels.com

the worst place to be right now is inside my own head

it’s
not
very
nice
here

i’m not sure i ever want to be a leader
since i’m nowhere close to being a proper follower,
forgetting to stop at daily checkpoints in the face of
things that are seemingly so much more important

don’t try to pull me out now;
i only just managed to become comfortable with being alone

and alone is the place where i’ll stay,
home

the thing this crisis asks from us
is literally the hardest thing for me to give

un-bridled care, compassion,
making myself once again aware that

other

people

exist.