[▶] for safekeeping.

eloquent obsidian

• poem ○

and at times like this
I find myself
unable to speak
articulate my thoughts.
or whatever's left of them, anyway
because I only feel like an empty shell
maybe this is your cue
to fill me with
l

iquid poison
.

drip, drip, tip
into a sink of
burning ember

a sense of fulfillment
derived from self-accomplishment
how selfish
I never knew what to do or say.

" happiness is beautiful to see -
won't you box it up for me?"
for the days when I don't have a ray of sun
or even a beam of light in my eye.
it's been way too long since
I felt like I was really
a part of
something

it never really seems like I fit in anywhere.

I have friends.

I have places to be.

I have areas to go.

I have things to do.

but still, I never -
I always feel as if
it could've been afforded
the fact that I wasn't
there.

maybe that explains why I so often feel so sluggish
tired, draining blood from my body
I don't feel happy
truly happy
even after I've spent time with people I love
and done things I enjoy
is this depression making its lapse in a grey cloud, drawing me back in again?
I don't know if I can see through the fog that's enveloped
my head
I flutter my fingers through the empty space
empty words
empty promises and cares
I don't see.
feels like I'm forever trapped in a bubble of
mist and forgetfulness
I'm never really seen, either.
sometimes I feel like I don't really exist in other people's eyes
and I'm all alone in this world without anyone I can really believe to be there
when I need it.

and it's not their fault.
it's a problem I have.
all my dark spirals and echoes
I never can get rid of those aching woes in my head
encircling and swirling and gushing in a maroon, violet-tinted torrent
I never see the consequences coming even though it's happened
over and over and over again.
I'm such a mess.

so often, I am
jealous
bitter
angry
anxious

I am rarely
peaceful
gleeful
calm
contented.

I wish I was.
there was probably a point of time where I was.
I know so.
but it just never seems like it
happens
happened
?
I don't know.
I'm staring at the ceiling of
the school hall
writing this on a Friday afternoon
while everyone is out for lunch.
and it's quiet,
only music lilting in my ears
bursting colour, popping with the fresh tint of a delightful entrance

how strange.
music can take my words away
or let them flow like a river
but it can never make my mood change for the better
truly, anyway.

and now I find myself in a cabin
the grey walls outside rushing past as the tiny metal box I stand in
hurries along the tracks, carrying crowds and bustling conversation
music still playing in my ears.

and then eyes closed,
a wave of exhaustion
and a moment of vulnerability right in the midst of
the traffic
as I stand, not moving, but moving up the escalator
and I am seen and yet not seen all at the same time.
it's amazing how something so uncloaked can still be completely opaque
no matter how exposed it is
and I ride, writing these words on a portable technological device
along the travellator.
people pass me by,
not knowing I write these words about them
whilst they walk by my side.
I wonder what stories they have -
are they going home? are they going to meet someone?
did they have a good day? a bad one?
what kind of people are they?
and what do they think of me?
do their minds wander as an artist's hand across an empty canvas
like mine does?

little old hurts and miscellaneous thoughts
misty, fleeting memories
my foot aches.
I bustle along as usual.

sometimes, I think
the music in my ears paints the scenery before me
in different tones and lights.
it's interesting.
the coffee machine runs
and the birds twittering produces
a light, skippy feeling
in my heart, in my veins.
I love the music I listen to,
I truly do.
it paints vivid pictures of
things and people
I may never get to meet or experience.
you know, I believe
we never only meet people
but we experience them too.
I believe there's so much more than just
a person
hiding within each soul.
it's a whole universe of its own and a multi-myriad of stars and combinations
a unique code never perfectly replicated within anyone else.
isn't that special?

"you will never understand the power and beauty of your youth until it fades."
and isn't that terribly true?
even as I am yet to turn
seventeen
I already feel the wastings and the could-have-beens of my youth.
but such is the way we live
there is no real way for us to truly treasure
living in the moment.

but perhaps that is just how it is meant to be.

- fin -