"She might as well get lost."
"Weirdo"
"Queer"
I filter and block,
send them down the pile.
A force brings me down,
flat on my face.
His angelic voice tickles my center of gravity,
tugging at my sanity.
That day was the end of the beginning,
and the beginning of my end.
The start for my heart and the end for my mind.
Chaos in my brain🧠--
Static electrons and frenzied hormones.
A one-sided war,
fueled by love and quenched by rationality.
Generals of both armies,
the winds continuously sway.
Diseases could be contracted from his lips.
My hands gain breath as they pull his collar.
A hug can lead to evil deeds;
my arms take the form of steel bars.
I adjust my glasses once more,
staring at the sheets before me--
graphs moving in rhythmic📈, chaotic lines📉.
In love, one sees🙈 , says🙊, and hears🙉 no evil
my mind refuses unprocessed information;
she tugs at the blindfold,
cuts at the sewn threads.
Eve was accused of being a femme fatale.
swaying his heart from the truth.
One doesn't peer into the crux:
was she the cause, or his heart swayed from the beginning?
Did hunger lead to her betrayal of their lord,
or was it just her deer🦌 head's love?
Was she plotting against her master and lover,
or did she have her heads in the clouds?
It's all a matter of tuggles,
outweighing the scales against the other--
thee mind and the heart.
The hunger pangs of the heart outweigh the thirst of the mind📝,
my fleeting focus.
Irrationality at its worst.
The chariots charge.
Commanders pound at the steel bars.
The stickiness and heat in the iron
lessen no further.
An inch back , an inch forward.
His side inches forward .
The bells ring;
they put forward their offerings🍱.
Their god to good for a commoner like am.
The ropes thicken to rest once more.
snaking, merging with my tendons, blood🩸, skin--
its origin: my heart🫀.
Strong-willed I force myself above the waves
The same force pulling me down harder, moving frenziedly.
Blood-thirsty for my mind.
its thirst scares me;
the horses🐎neigh tiredly.
As all rationale is to be eradicated
The soldiers' bleak eyes reflect my forlorn back.
Just then, a revolution.
That's what I'm supposed to do.
The threads break slowly,
the chains unraveling⛓️,
my battered figure weathered but proud.
The war is at a stalemate now.
Time feels frozen;
I could almost see the dust particles made by the horses' hooves.
His worshippers sway me no more.
The war tethers me no more.
For I am divinity myself
I am war🔥
YOU ARE READING
FLEETING THOUGHTS
General FictionWriting poems for the blues. To let my inner voice have her own podium. Just for fun actually. Or maybe not, depends on how you interpret it, It still all depends on the human mind And heart in the end.
