Kabdul

The dance, The Dance

My chest is heavy with words hanging off the sternum, words I’ve never said, words that have escaped but been yanked back down by the sentences sent after them like sentinels to rescind meaning. like access revoked my feelings feel constantly denied, and I changed the passcode on myself out of fear that if given entry they would invade, ransack, and pillage, destroy whole villages of relationships too fragile to weather rains of truth

Chests echo like deep mountain caves/ when the light of love leaves them

Veni, Vici, Ego Servavi -I came, I saw, I captured (an image in time)-

Maybe I was just not meant for love. Maybe my shores were not meant to be rested on. Maybe I was only meant for storms and sirens, and for boats to crash into rocks not kissed with lighthouses. Is it possible My topograpy is not meant to know soft? Sand covered stone can feel comfortable but burrow in and you will only feel the cold, the hard, Burrow in and you will freeze or break or both. Mountains may be  my only solace, I can look to their heights and hope and dream but their reality is unmoved and mine can stay unchanged. Is this a cowardly thought or a noble one? Why do I analyze it so profusely? Love is an experiment, and my God, has something gone terribly terribly wrong. Green smoke billowing through frigid recycled air, there is no soul in this lab. There is no laughter or passion. There is only feeling haphazardly strewn across floor, obsession stained walls, and expectations, hanging like nooses from exposed beams in the sky. Maybe I was not meant for love. Maybe love was built for boys not broken, maybe love just isn’t for us. Maybe we have to be satisfied with our constant struggle to feel, embrace the numbness eating away at the grey remnants of hearts deprived, just accept that our soft is sorrow, condemned by all.

If sensuality was sand and depth was light, you would be the desert at sunrise, illuminating the passing night. Serenade like radiation, a voice of nuclear temptation, I wonder what is hidden beneath words unsaid. I ponder often, the pain not forgotten of mountains you seem to carry, I feel it in the nooks and crannies of meaning leaking out of conversations, continued, sustained by a mutual need to not stop, lest it never start again. To what degree does inferences stand in for declarations, can definitions kill honest formations, of love, of friendship, of platonic conversations, does the mirrored I see reflected mean more than random chance or kindred spirit, am I seeing blind, or do I look through clear glass with eyes closed, ears open, hoping to hear, to listen electric impulses are life and yet electric impulses are false. Facades are easily constructed, easily fabricated, easily consumed, yet hard to pick apart. What meaning is the root of your existence? What spark courses through veins unseen? Who is the shadow in the mirror I see reflected in me so eerily? Are you ice in the night, a blade that will cut deep, then melt as I bleed out in the pale moonlight? Are you glass I will drop and break, leaving tiny pieces of you embedded in my skin? Are you one half of a whole, a whole world to fall in? Are you comfort itself, a true friend to wrap myself in? Are you iron wrapped in silk, touched softly, but to enter is to break in? Are you simply a mirror, made to look deeply in to, but to never truly gaze in? I don’t know, but if Time is telling, I’ll certainly go ask him.

Have you ever felt a light inside not reflected when you meet your own eyes in the mirror? Felt the call of greatness echoing through body and bone but are faced with the reality of mediocrity oozing from underneath your skin? Inside you glow but outside covered in darkness and sin? Had a soul crafted by God but a body full of broken, and a heart that is soaked in hope unfulfilled? Man thinks me worthy but on the scale created by the creator un created I'm not even a crater on the disk of weights im supposed to weigh up against I have accomplished nothing I have done nothing of worth or value All that is good in me came from The One up above All that is bad in me bubbled up from the scum inherent in the Sons Adam had sin as I do but he knew repentance He was blessed with redemption I worry my fate was never written in letters of great I worry my seal has been tightened and I will never rise to grace I I fear my soul will never taste the light of returning in haste to the Master of time and space I wonder will I ever hear the footsteps of the servant in heaven and know tears as I realize my lies were forgiven and look down at feet walked on hallowed ground and know that I heard my self walking On the path that does not end, but forever I will know light Forever faith will have been rewarded to me Forever I hope I pray Is my destiny But I fear not

You don't even show yourself love how are you supposed to recognize when somebody else does?

With my kindness, all enemies will fall, my mercy a weapon of mass destruction, my sweetness an atom bomb. My grace topples all foes, my honor will kill them slowly. My smile slays hate succinctly, I swear I will be the gentlest of them all till every enemy embraces me, till every hateful thought is replaced with love

I solemnly swear to put out bad content, shitty works of art, trash videos and all around poor quality work until one day I don't. I solemnly swear that my failure will be the building blocks of my success. I solemnly swear that I won't allow the quality of my creativity to dictate it's existence.

Life's a mad scramble It's value is found in deed At this, time laughs much

Love stretched over space Hearts have no concept of it Only good and bad

Death light like feather Duty heavy like mountain Death is forever

There is a sinking feeling in my chest, like the mountain of longing has come home to roost, like the sadness has finally spilled over my silent walls, and even the overflow is too much for my simple heart to bear. There is a sinking feeling in my chest like terror has finally found a place to feed, like the worry has finally found its resting place, a hole to burrow into and multiply, to bust open the rib cage and claim the whole body as home. There is a sinking feeling in my chest like the clouds wish to embrace the earth and penetrate the loam, like the particles of sorrow wish to eat into bone and marrow and sup on the flesh of spine and destroy the house my souls calls home . There is a sinking feeling in my chest, and I’m scared and alone