— I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)
My knees buckle,
My mind, it bends
My mouth stumbles
Over the words it borrows
From others with less sorrows
-Zoë Lianne
preoccupied poet, maude phelps hutchins
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Gentle Spirit
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
I’m struggling,
Stumbling like a failing tightrope walker
I turn and want to blame someone
For sabotaging the rope,
For distracting me
But there’s no one but me
I abandoned safety net and balancing pole
Instead there’s darkness waiting should I fall
There’s no way of knowing what’s down there
Should I tumble, would I crack?
Should I fall, would I break?
Should I jump, would I
Die
The heart is supposed to fall
In love,
And for someone
But mine is quiet,
Still at it’s place
It doesn’t beat in sync with someone’s
But it beats for me
I’m not giving it up
But wear it on my sleeve
And treat it gently
"To forget, to forget ...", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)
My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.
Virginia Woolf
●a way to let go of my thoughts because I fear they might crush me● ||they/them||
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