Forget All That You Know

[dreamofwildpoet]

At some point I realized, that it’s impossible for me to not feel loved. I have been looking for signs of “that’s not love”, when any tiny gesture makes me feel warm and fuzzy. I look around, and I feel love everywhere. But why is the empty side of me still feel depleted, like a sad sack. The side of me that feeds on attention, reaction, and praises. What happened to the deep and quiet love. The kind that simply exists, like the deep ocean. The love that’s everlasting. I start to think that quiet love is not an external energy, but an internal muscle memory. It’s something that comes from within. Then I’m immediately sad watching my hopeless romantic bubble bursts. To love and be loved is great, but contentment is more priceless. Maybe, just maybe, today I will practice quiet love.

[dreamofwildpoet]

I’m scared of something

Something I used to be able to do

At least in my assumption

Or was it a hallucination mistakenly imprinted as memory

[dreamofwildpoet]

Who killed me

If you know

Please visit my grave

Bring flowers, or a note, or a whisper

Desperately needing emotional hydration

Gross

[dreamofwildpoet]

One day I know how to love painfully then the next day I’m living a life of reasons.

[dreamofwildpoet]

If there is a being called Time, will they have the urge to squash us like us squashing an ant?

[dreamofwildpoet]

Little by little

We lost the artist in us

We want to make only beautiful things

We want to be good

Simplified

Stay in line

Our product must look good

Behave without complexity

Only think outside of the box when it fits

A grand purpose

Supposed to

What’s the real meaning of that

Why do we have such thing

We lost our taste

For complexity

Things that take time

Time

Where did time go

How did it shift from complex beauty

To efficiency in everything

Does it really make our lives easier

Makes you want more

What are you doing with the time saved

What are you really doing

What are we really doing

[dreamofwildpoet]

If the moon weeps

Would you catch her tears

[dreamofwildpoet]

The stars we see today are the images of what they were billions of years ago. Will we ever know what they are like in this moment? Or is it all relative? Somewhere, to some beings, the entire earth history might feel like the blink of an eye. Time doesn’t exist alone and it never has and never will.

[dreamofwildpoet]

“Be honest with yourself” is harder than it seems. Have you ever thought about what it really means? Perhaps to some people it’s not a complicated question to answer but to me it is.

[dreamofwildpoet]

Stopped giving two fucks about unimportant things - this is how I know I’m getting old

- Me

[dreamofwildpoet]

Half opened door

There is something fearful of the unknown

People say “on the other side there are possibilities”

Yet you are so afraid of losing what you know

Thoughts become worrisome

It is surprising how much pain is required to have an emotion

And how many emotions it takes to create something, anything

Everyone plays the game of perception

Illusion artists

Known as manipulative masterminds

Keep people guessing

If you ask me for advice

Be nice but don’t be close

Be humble but have a backbone

[dreamofwildpoet]

no longer a child

water gets too high you feel the pressure suffocating like someone has their hands on your throat and completely power over you water gets too low you get anxious worrying the chips you have placed in this timeframe called life water everywhere... overflowing of thoughts people's chatters built on their fear drought of emotions became a skill to survive umbrella in the rain you start to worry about what happens in the parallel universe you start to internalize forced to accept things about yourself you saw your own shadow and question is it still happiness you're chasing after

[dreamofwildpoet]

Some people are born being comfortable in their own skin, some people learn to comfortable with who they are in their 20s, some people learn to be that way later in life. And for some, the wait to become comfortable in their own skin and accept and love who they truly are seems too long and impossible. The deep rooted inferiority prevents them to become who they could have been. Because after decades, I still don't know how to love myself unapologetically; because I believe I can be so much more; because the damn gate won't open to let the race horse out.

[dreamofwildpoet]

The desire of being understood by someone comes back sprinting faster than a beast, gaining grounds as my fear grows, miles and miles as I watch it approaching with my guard down, the distance previously earned by pretend success of suppression... for months I worked on this... like a garden being demolished. Now that I had a taste of a stranger seeing through me.

[dreamofwildpoet]

It's extremely draining to have an obsessive mind, over a thought, a person, an event... ... over and over again it plays in your head, consumes every brain cell until it spins out of control. I wanted to grab hold of it and make it stop but it goes right back and this time it drags emotions with it down the black hole. The gravity is almost unbearable.

- Face the difficulties. Face myself.

[dreamofwildpoet]

Vision

desperately, trying to feel grounded or I will lose my f***ing head identity crisis different versions of me too many

cycles of beings trying to catch a feeling to become but it changes again I’ve lived a long time but why do I have to live many lives

the needs of others are calling me what am I denying and why I’m tickled, as it’s all part of the plan back to the drawing board

[dreamofwildpoet]

I remember when I used to get in this mood before the storm comes, it's like I was with the weather, I was holding on to some deep and dark secret in my heart that wants to bubble up to the tip of my tongue. The pressure builds and builds, the internal longing for the release is about to burst. I lost my temper, I can't hold back my poise, I pull on my hair, I cry. The darkness consumes, it reminds me of its power, of how nice it would be just submit instead of fighting for a seemingly good cause. It's hard to swallow, the words I want to say, but cannot express in ways that can do justice to this weather. Thunder rolls in, like the guest you've been expecting for ages. The hole in the cloud suggests the existence of the sun but can you simply believe its ultimate power? Or the shadow is too convincing and addictive. Come on rain, where are you...