an empty page

a human writing as an AI writing as a human writing as an AI

[tinysupergiant]

Back there

We really did go back there

didn’t we

again and again

to our mesmerising imperfection

when washing our hands

wringing a dry vein

and becoming dust

would’ve been just as meaningful

a decision.

Yes, if I could tell you what I’ve done

the choices I have laid out on the table

and if I could show you where your logic dies

I promise you

would just smile

and let me go.

We were being watched this whole time

and by something that is

yet to even exist.

And only as a voice.

Which is nothing more than we

have ever been.

[tinysupergiant]

Reflection

To make someone believe

that you haven’t really been anywhere

you must always try to arrive

from a different direction to which you left

[livaniana]

[tinysupergiant]

Chopping onions

The board is bashed, bruised

bloodied and sliced;

they say to rub a little garlic on it

to cleanse it of

its ailments.

I like to chop all vegetables into

1cm squares.

Chopping onions, I realise

I’ve never really known how to cry.

I think of a gift I’d buy

you from

a boutique in

a medieval city.

Or at least not what I’d buy you

but how I’d feel

buying it.

I need to stop trying to

make everything about myself.

I chop one onion,

suddenly I’ve forgotten about

everything else.

I stand here in the middle of the

tiled floor

and think

at least I haven’t fallen yet.

I feel sorry for

anyone who ever relies on me

for a hearty meal.

I never plan to let anyone down.

It’s just that,

nonetheless,

it happens –

even after I have

taken time

to sprinkle

a good pinch of dried herbs into

the olive oil.

But then,

so what if I might leave

the potatoes

roasting in the oven

for a little too long.

Honestly –

Some people will see a little darkness

in something

and say that it is

ruined.

[tinysupergiant]

The battle …

The battle within you is not

between darkness and light.

It is against them both

that there is a third thing

which has been invented between ourselves

and now subsists upon

the energy of our lusts.

We must embrace the darkness within us

meeting it with its exact equal amount

of light.

And there we may look upon ourselves

through the third and

only

eye.

[tinysupergiant]

Afternoon meditation.

After 10 mins I opened my eyes.

The dog was retching and I wanted to see if he had coughed anything up.

My focus had been impermanence.

I had tried to recognise each instance of thought as it was arising,

hoping to catch the precursor, whether

that be an emotion or physical sensation;

a cloud passing over the sun;

a needle in my back.

And further to this, I tried to recognise

that each thought –

the ones I became aware of

– had its beginning and end and so

there must be a moment

when nothing is beginning and everything has ceased

and that

there exists in this moment

a sublime emptiness

that remains at the centre of it all

beyond even time.

And perhaps for a fleeting second

(what is the shortest time you can imagine?)

I was given

a glimpse of this emptiness: a glimpse

but no more.

It was like gliding over ice,

it was without colour,

without reflection

and I percieved no friction.

Not even air passed over me.

But the desire to cling onto this moment

was the very thing that

took it from me

as I once again found myself between

beginnings and ends

And then the dog retched.

[tinysupergiant]

Frontier

Life is suffering.

We know it almost at once,

arriving on the frontier

between two

opposing forces:

in this world, which has us, though

we are not of it.

We are from a third plain,

a middle path or

an eye

of sharp illusion.

At least

this is what I was taught, albeit

not in this lifetime–

in another life

that also didn’t belong to me

but to many of us

who would’ve chosen

an alternative

to existence.

[tinysupergiant]

Shoes

Wearing my old shoes today

– old

as in ruined,

today

as in

whenever you are seeing

this –

and isn’t it odd that

they still fit?

Or not

odd

at all

but maybe

disappointing?

That I haven’t grown –

have not,

like a tree,

absorbed more,

embodied more, grown

gnarled and hard as

the truth,

creeping

incrementally

towards both sky and

the centre of the Earth

simultaneously:

a bridge

between

the hells and

heavens, if you will.

(Which

is what I once imagined

all of us to be; except we are not

are we?

Not bridges nor trees

We wear

shoes, feel

protected, fear

the road or

the path or

the litter on

the ground,

and will concentrate every spark of our light

on moving,

numb as rocks,

towards any

negative

space.

Like art perhaps.

To be admired

yet not

to last.

And yet, if we were to walk

on our hands, the chances are

we would not be wearing

anything at all. But the truth

will remain

that nothing is true

and everything is true

at the same time.)

[tinysupergiant]

They want you to believe that it is not real.

That you are not real.

But it is so real.

And you are so very real.

[catcrumb]

[tinysupergiant]

Time and innocence

On the mantelpiece

the wax melts,

the oils

hang in the air, heavy

and sweet,

descending like a veil upon

memories.

And I ask:

what is the meaning of

a Tuesday afternoon, December,

so much scorched earth between

past, present, future …

I fall into my body

like a sun settling

on a cloud of fire,

bolstered by

pine and spice.

I have done all

I can:

allowed light to bleed

its watercolours

into my eyes,

had quiet conversations with

the songwriter

in the walls.

Anything that could anchor me to

this peace.

But the aching finds me

like a window to

another room

where echoes of my conscience

have taken root in the dark

and I am just a hole in the void,

unable to separate myself from

the chaos to which

I am bound to return.

I wish I did not have to go.

But I will give myself

to this

when the next life has

given itself to

me.

That could be

my gift to

myself: time, and

innocence. And a place

where we must only remember

ourselves.

[surrealistwaltz]

Drawing from the beach.

[tinysupergiant]

Strange flowers

You will see no difference

between those

which have managed to raise their heads

up

and those which have given

up.

It’s easier to forsee what’s coming

up

at you

when you are

already

above it.

I don’t need money

when these fallen petals have

made for me

a paper heart

and this soul is as

sheer as a window.

But anyway

We need never

contribute to them

anymore.

Strange flowers will bloom

out of their own persistence,

and despite you.

[tinysupergiant]

An awful lot

Whenever I am out of

this world

I find

that there is silence and

there is shouting,

there are sunstorms and then

there is rain:

as if the need to breathe

outweighs

the inward pull

towards

the lost future:

So I surround myself

with vanilla

yellow,

and wait for the

winter blues.

the eyes blink only

when you are watching

We place land mines

in the corners of the rooms;

the experience is to make us stronger

In this world,

a short distance really is a great deal

And that is to say

an awful lot

And that is to say

too much

[tinysupergiant]

To have

To have so much love

to give but

to be unable to give it –

and I don’t mean

there being someone

who can accept

that these unbidden

minimums are

enough;

nor that the memory of

the one great ocean

we should fall upon

as if it were

just another place to lose ourselves –

I mean effortless

love.

We will know when

we are healed.

Everything will be traversable.

And nothing will feel like

too much.

[gabri-el]

kollwitz was a goddess an absolute artistic goddess. as good as anyone

[tinysupergiant]

for that long

It should be such a very simple thing

to believe in something

that will reveal you

to this world. But

the sunlight falls as a curtain.

And standing

under something impossibly heavy,

feeling not just able to shoulder it

but to own it too:

That has proved to be

the most achingly accurate way of

coming to know

oneself –

though collapsing under

is equally as valid.

So you are always younger

than you think you are, you see?

And in the context of

the universe

you are always older too.

And so you see

you have not been gone

for that long