“PURGE”

“Purge” is about cleaning out what has been inside forever. It’s about looking at all of yourself and accepting it with open arms, and in the end of this potential series of poems that will follow this one, hopefully, falling in love with yourself.


 

My innocence is the grave that no one brings flowers to.

My past is a bed of thorns that I lie in everyday.
Some nights, I don’t get a single scratch
And on others, I talk to the moon
to distract myself from how I’m bleeding out;
Only to recover the next morning.

Where the new dawn calls me, I walk.
I am chained.
I haul the poles I’m chained to, out of the ground, and I walk.
Then like an Olympic hammer throw, I toss them away,
Glory and sway!
And the crowd roars in applause!
…but the seats are empty.
And the chains are still tied to the hammers,
clawed around my wrists…
So I walk.

I wonder if the universe were upside down
And we were all stars that stars gazed upon,
Would they have found me in a constellation?
Would I even be aware that I was part of one?
Or would I be the star that exploded alone
as lovers watched through a telescope,
wishing for eternal joy;
Because the way I shot through the sky that night
was too damn miraculous.
Would they tell their grandkids
how their first kiss
was underneath my final light?

What will I be telling mine?

 

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Threads #35

I try to be the bigger man; and the men in my life keep getting smaller.

Their hearts have practically disappeared and I wonder, was doing the right thing, the right thing?

Flowers in Tombs

My therapist told me that when I get anxiety and urges to self harm; that I should start writing. So last night, I did. (If you have trigger points, related to self harm, do not read further.) 

 

I’m a disease. An epidemic. And I’m gonna spread like I always do until everyone I love is the same broken worthless piece of shit as me. Until they also become dysfunctional.
The worst part about me is that I look like a wonderful human being but all that is a lie, a cover up to make people fall for this act of innocence and purity. And when they start to love me, oh boy. I start releasing my venom slowly into their veins until the began to need me and become paralysed. Then I heal them and act like I am an angel.
I’m a disease. An epidemic. I go around pretending I have a disease and I take medicines for it but that is not true. It’s all me.
And that is why I deserve these scratches on my arm. Heck I deserve them everywhere. I deserve blood coming out of my broken skin cause I am a seemingly beautiful mess that deceives nice people.
Why am I even asking for help and letting them know about this? Now that they have started to realize how full of shit I am and have begun to try and care for themselves away from me because they really can’t do it near me because I ruin it. Why now? I should stop. 11 times or 121; why should anyone know? Why not cut them all off and run away? Once and for all? Just me and my demons dancing together in perfect harmony cause we belong in each other’s arms.
It’s better than slowly being hated and hated and hated and hated and hated until one day they just say it out loud that I don’t deserve anything from them. It’s better to say it to myself beforehand. It’s better to leave everyone beforehand. Before I hurt them. Before I burn them. Before I make them bleed like they made me.

Damn, that felt good. I would say I’m sorry for making you read that but I’m really not. I wanted to show you what anxiety and depression look like and I was in it when it was the only reality I could see so I don’t want to apologise.
Now, to the “beautiful saviors” themselves, the mental illnesses.

First of all, fuck you.
I would say I hate you
but you’ve lived inside of me
For more years than I can count
And I don’t want to accidentally say I hate myself.

Come on, you already made me do that
nine thousand and two times
(not counting accidents).

You say you’re here to protect me from all the abhorrent people
but they seem to me, to be
the ones who birthed you within me
And now you want me to be the surrogate carrier?

I’m sorry but I don’t love you that way
Or them, for that matter.
You’re not here to save me
from anyone but myself.
And I’m the only good thing I know
So no.
Thanks.

I don’t want to be safe from my best friend,
Or my mom
Or even the boy who left,
These are my loves.
You can’t twist them and break me
and take them away.

You’re a perpetrator

A trespasser.
I know I fell for your tricks
and that should make me less than you
but fuck you
I am strong as hell.

And you can watch me someday,
spreading all the love I have in me,
today. And so can they.

For my heart will forever be open
Even if it’s scared to fall in love again
Even when it can’t trust people
or want to make my own bed
or eat
or sleep
or pray to my Allah.

You won the battle last night,
and I am going to have to carry these scars on my arms
as proofs, forever.
but fuck you
I’m winning the war.

“UNDONE”

I held a little red brick
In my little kid arms
And I walked on, miles
till the sun came down.
And I did this for days
little labour it looked like
that a little kid bore
But I built a palace
like never seen before.
Then one night came spring
It knocked on the gate
I welcomed it in
But it left the next day.
And I glanced up at the tower
Where I’d lived so long
And what fell in my feet
Was a little red brick.
One by one
they tumbled down
And the walls of my palace,
like broken doors now.
To the gardens I ran,
only to find
that little red dewdrops
now covered the green.
Confused and disheartened,
I turned around
Glanced at my chest,
and pain I found
Flowing in the form
of a swift red river.

The “dewdrops” had not come from the sky
And the bricks had not fallen from the towers
But my castle had crumbled down
And my blood had washed it away;
Just little red bricks
In a swift red river;
Leading into an endless sea.

“WUJOOD AUR ZAAT”

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Wujood ko tou sirf mohabbat karna ata hai. Ishq? Ishq tou zaat karti hai. Isi liye jab rooh Khuda ke paas jaye, tou wujood ko dunya mai chor ke jati hai. Kyunke wujood dunya ka hissa hai, yaheen bheja gaya, yaheen kaam aya aur yaheen mitti mai mil gaya. Hisab tou zaat ka hoga. Aur yoon, jo wujood ki chahaton ka ghulam hua, samjho wo nakaam thehra. Aur jis ne zaat paa li, usne ishq kiya. Aur yehi ishq usay Khuda ki mohabbat ka haqdaar bana deta hai.

Ye theek hai ke Khuda ke ilawa kisi se ishq nahi kiya ja sakta, lekin ye bhi sach hai ke agar insan dunya ki mohabbat Khuda ke ishq ke wajib karda usoolon aur aqaid se chaanne ya guzaarne ke baad kare; tou beshak Khuda us mohabbat ko bhi ishq jesa mazboot bana deta hai, aur ishq jesa sukun bakhsh. Gharz ye ke jab jab tumhe izterab mehsoos ho, tou samjho sirf mohabbat hai. Aur jab jab sukun milay, tou samajh jao ke ishq hai. Aur agar usay kho dene ka dar lagay, tou phir, sirf mohabbat hai. Aur agar andha aitemaad ho, tou ishq.

Par insaan siyah aur safaid par nahi chalta. Insan tou dono ka milaap hai. Insan bhool hai. Insan tauba hai. Bas jab mohabbat ho, tou wujood ki chahat maan ke tauba karo. Aur jab ishq ho, tou uske imtehanon ke liye tayyar raho; sajde ki talwaar aur dua ki dhaal samait, datt jao. Kyunke jo tum kehte phiro ge, Khuda uska imtehan zaroor le ga. Ye tou sadiyon pehle bata diya tha Us ne. (Surah Ankabut, ayah 2-3)

Ishq ka pehla qadam tawakkul hota hai, yaani yaqeen. Aur har mushkil mai sabse ziada isi ka imtehan leta hai Khuda. Isi tarah tou wo munaafiqat ko haq se, aur wujood ko zaat se alag karke dikhata hai.

Kayi baar, tumhare ishq ko wujood lalkaare ga. Kayi baar tum wujood ki maan bhi lo ge. Lekin gir ke sambhalna hi imaan ka suboot hai. Ahista Ahista, tumhare wujood ko zaat zaroor mil jayegi.

“Weeps December”

Weeps my heart and weeps December

I hope that you will always remember 

The pearl you held in your palm, white

Back when our fire burned bright

I wonder when it burned us both

Ought to give warmth, but turned us both

Into strangers, running on parallel paths

Through the moon’s eclipse and the night’s wrath

Oh when will the stars come out again?

Oh when will the dawn of hope begin? 

I will meet you then, at the first sunrise

Where the abyss collides with paradise

I’ll show my book of adventures to you

And you’ll find your home, with my chaos too

’til it’s calm like the breeze your soul brings 

And we shall be made of beautiful things

But first, oh love, we must get through

The trials fate birthed, maybe to prove

The strength of our faith in what we hold

How brave we are and just how bold

Let the season weep! We shall endure

In the end, our hearts will have only loved more.


(Fun fact: I came up with the first verse of this poem 8 months ago, in December; and didn’t want to change that just now when I wrote the rest of it. Hope you liked it! :))