Orbit

I saw nothing but blackness, even when I reached out my arms, until I felt a gentle tug. No, it wasn’t gentle now, a pulling force, a persuasive hand behind my back, pulling me into orbit. We encircle each other, like magnets you pull and repel me, and we stay at this wondrous length, neither clashing into each other. We are equals, or would there have been collision?
The orbit is almost like a traditional square dance, we never touch, but we are at arms length. It’s like that feeling you get when you take a roller coaster ride, you feel that tension building up, the long awaited whoosh down the long rails that will be so imminent. Like a bungee jump without ropes, like a free fall into space. I can almost hear that thudding in my veins, from behind my ears I feel blood rushing to my head, my brain is crushing to a side, or rather gushing outwards with the pressure.
I am nothing but a speck of dust, but I feel so much more.

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Prosthetics

Attaching at the ends, intertwining the nerves and muscles.

Detaching the old parts, sawing off the knots and gashes.

Perspiring like a dog, grunting through those bitten lips.

Wondering why it ever came to, putting on these new prosthetics.Screen Shot 2015-09-24 at 2.18.52 pm

Hot air balloon

Dizzying,  the sight of the ground below me scares me, like a miniature of the entire world being put in front of me, specks of houses and rows of roads and streets, a complicated web of infrastructures. The height also attracts me, the pull of gravity when you look down a tall building, the dropping of your stomach and you swallow your saliva while looking down. The small spots moving on the ground, like ants on a hill and like dust blown over a clean slate.

Is that you I see waving at me from below?

Shotgun ready, and I burst the balloon for the free fall.

Smoke Rings

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The humid air hung around me as I slowly turned towards the hookah, my hands reaching for the pipe. Breathing all the carbon dioxide in this stuffy room as made me light-headed, almost as if I am running out of air, drowsy as I was I tried to keep the conversation going.

“You can’t just keep going like that forever, you obviously know what’s better for you and what isn’t… Okay, look I don’t even know why I bother talking to you about this…” she said, annoyed that I was blatantly ignoring her with my inhalation of tobacco through the bubbling sounds.

I squinted and went cross-eyed, smoke rings coming out from between my lips, I have never particularly been good at it, nor have I seemed to improve with all my shisha experiences.

She took a long sip from her draft beer, half-way done, and set down the glass gently on the coaster. “Look, we both know you’re going no where with this relationship with him. You’re wrecking yourself and wasting your fucking time. ” Probably exasperated that I have kept silent for so long, she rolled her eyes and sat back into the comfortable sofa and let out a long sigh.

I looked across the room and saw that the table across was making perfect smoke rings, I kept staring at how he melds his mouth into this shape, how his slightly apart mouth let the smoke escape slowly, driftly into the air that was already foggy to begin with. Bad light made me look harder, I couldn’t tell what I was doing wrong, wasn’t I doing the same thing? Exact copies of the shape and breathing I could examine from this distance.

Telling myself: okay, maybe practise makes perfect. I have to keep trying.

“Why do you even bother making smoke rings?” toying with the moisture that clung on the glass rim, she asked.

“Hoping that if it kills me I want it to look beautiful.”

Mirrors

I see in you what you see in me.

I see a brilliant star, glowing vibrantly, outshining all around it. A eclipse of everything else that was surrounding it, a warm, generous glow that gave off warmth. Fiery with passion and gently caressing your skin, soft touches that seem to spell L-O-V-E.

I see a broken, shattered moon. You broke into millions of facets, the harsh cold wind that has blown sticks and stones your way! Why? I wonder if anyone could see anything in me when they are looking through you, a broken, crooked lens with faults. Wrong tints and bad light.

Fire fire fire

Like a lonely stranger stranded on an island, I couldn’t help reach into your fiery depths- A bonfire of brilliance, an exploding sensation, a marvellous glow in the dark, dark nights. I felt my arm embrace a bubbling lava, the molten rocks melted my skin, as I perspired I realised that I was burning, but it was better than dying cold and alone.

Waves, crashing along the shore while I hopelessly, recklessly cling on to the flames to not freeze, because I prefer going like a firework, igniting all of me with all of you, than to ebb away and lay in the morning like a pile of unburnt wood.

When you laugh with fire in you, you feel like this warmth spreads to your fingertips, with the tingling sensation lingering just below your tummy, a bright light has been lit within you. When you cry with fire in you, it is like your tears scorch your skin, the drips of hot, burning water tumble down your cheek and sizzle as they drip onto your clothes. When you’re mad with fire in you, it is like there is this overwhelming rage, a pot that has been boiling too long, a hot pan with no oil.

So I welcome you into my life, although you leave me burning.tumblr_nu1unoROIY1sgca36o1_1280