The Inescapable Reality

Strings un-knot themselves in the darkness
Leaving an intangible mess 
of a soul
unbound by regret
and painted black with sadness

In their wake a body is left vacant
To later be filled with numbness
and demons that peel back layers of her flesh
Revealing the remains of the chaos her vessel once held

Hollow eyes pierce those who pass her
The coal black orbs and inky hair in contrast with pale skin
Looking more like the broken moon then a lifeless body on a sidewalk

No one pays her no mind
til the blood sinks into the cement
and down into the soil
The earth absorbing her silent screams for help

She's muted
Her chest is still and the world keeps moving on
Rotating on its axis
Another child lost to the cycle of destruction

When eyes land on her
Cold and pitiless
All she gets is a casket
Buried under the ground
the dirt resonating her pleas 
But only the reaper can hear them
and not even he will offer the helping hand to the deserted being

For the dead can't speak and can only suffer silently

Time

Time
Minutes ticking on a clock
An intangible thing
that rules our life
Another form of drug that
we are dependent on

Time
An elusive concept
Memories locked away
in the realm of space
The wasted seconds
The moments lost to ignorance
and death

Time
Numbers that mock us when we can't sleep
Numbers that sneer at us when we're late

Time
A meaningless word that holds no true value if wasted
But we spend so much of it wishing away
instead of chasing our dreams

Time
Something we don't have
A limited thing that if not used
Can not be regained
It moves on
without even glancing our way

Time
A thing so precious
it's abused.

Footprints in Our Lives

I decided we are like footprints at the beach. Now before you say "WTF?" and go on your merry way thinking that I'm just another crazy chick, please continue to read on. Now like I was saying, we are like the footprints on the beach. Except the beach, or in this case, the sand, would be the lives of the many people that we knew or know. And the footprints? They are the aftermath, the evidence of our effect on that person's life.

You see, some footprints take longer to be washed away by the sea, but we can still see them in our minds. We know it our feet had made an impression in the sand, and it's just like that with people. We know that we were part of one another's life at one point, regardless if we still are. We still hold memories of that other person, can feel the aftermath of their demise with their death or moving away or when we lose contact. Some footprints are harder to wash away, farther away from the relentless ocean, or were made with heavier steps, needing a few more waves to wash them away from our eyes.

It's like that with people. Some people are harder to forget, even the ones we wish we never met. How many times did you wish you didn't have to remember the times you were betrayed? Or the many times you lost someone? Because they left a piece of themselves, a footprint in our lives I suppose. And sometimes the sea can never reach the footprints left in their leave, too far high and deep in the sand, on the beach, to later be replaced with sand or other footprints.

Maybe I'm babbling, I feel like I am. But the point is, we leave our marks just as we left our mark on the beach, even temporarily. So be careful where you step and the lives you touch, because one wrong step and... well, you get the idea.

Picture: http://joog07.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/footprints_in_the_sand_op_493x600.jpg

Wanderless Musings

Don't you ever feel like packing up your things and just going away? I know I do. I just want to take a bag and stuff it, take some money and food and be on my way. I want to go on an adventure across the world, learn a new language and make a whole new identity for myself. Yes, I know I am clearly ignoring the consequences of doing any of these things, but still, humor me. Imagine if we could just start anew whenever we wanted, go wherever we wanted, just because we could. Now imagine that you were given the chance to do that, would you take it?

As much as I desire to grow wings and fly away, I would much rather stay with my feet on the ground. I would rather stay around the familiar because in truth, I am scared of what an unknown place holds for me. I am perfectly aware that I just contradicted what I had said previously, about wanting to go to an unknown place with only a few clothes and some change in my pocket, but in truth, I know I am incapable of it. Well, incapable is not the right word, more like I just won't. I wouldn't just get up and leave everything I know behind, though at times I wish to. At night, in the silence of my room, I wonder, if I just left, what would happen? Who would I encounter? Who would miss me and who would shrug it off? What would happen in the course of time it took me to wander aimlessly through the country?

These are questions I wish to amuse and no matter how many scenarios I make in my head, I never know the actual answer. And I hate not knowing those answers. I want to know that my family would be alright without me, that I would be safe and that they would be even more safe than I would be. I want to be certain that my mother would not die of heartache if her child just leaves without another word. I need to know that if I leave the safety of my home, that I would not end up in a gutter, just another faceless and nameless girl in the land of nowhere. But as of now, I can't be too sure. That's one of the may things keeping me from stretching my legs and extending them beyond the reach of my safe zone. But those named are the main reasons that I stay.

Yes, I do still wish that I could go away. That in a far away place I would be able to breathe easier, reevaluate a life I barely started and come to terms with myself and all the things I've done and want to do. I just want to get away from it all: the yelling, the roaring engine of cars in the middle of the night, of the voices that haunt me in my mind, of everything and everyone I know. Maybe it's not the best reason to leave, but it is still my reason. It is the reason I wish to escape and maybe one day I will have the guts to do so. Maybe one day I will wake up and just leave. Maybe one day, when I'm sick of the bullshit and loneliness, I would go away, never to be seen or heard from again, just to return to my biggest fear. I fear that on my return, no one would have missed me, no one would remember me or even worse, everyone would hate me for what I did: Leaving behind my family and friends for something as selfish as a whim, just because I could. 


I really wish I could, but I am going to stay here, planted to the forsaken city that I reside in. 

Droplets of Agony

I need a pool to float in, an ocean to sink in. I need an anchor to keep me still. I need a lifeline to keep me from drowning. I need the tears to cease and the worries to wash away.  I need the me from the past to swim up for air and kill the sadness that swirls in my chest. I need the me of today to survive. So I will survive. 

The Chaos of a Lost Soul

And like a ship at sea, she sails on

even if her insides are screaming

the fabric of her very being protesting violently

against the cold waves of her agony

And like a volcano, she explodes

the destruction of her structure unstoppable

and beautiful

Never ending and hopeless

And like a building, she collapses onto herself

into her bones

a chaotic mess of buried words and secrets

littering the pavement around her

engraving itself into the worlds memory

And like a addict, she screams for more

wanting nothing more but to block out reality

and go to a world where nothing hurts and 

people didn't exist

in a place where it was only she and not 

a him or another her

just she and the ice inside her soul

And like a blistering winter, she blocks out the light

and lets the fingers of numbness rock her body until

she's sleeping

never wishing to awake 

even if in her head

her demons won't let her be

And like a ghost

she's filled with regrets

weighted down by lies

the ashes of bridges burned swirling around her 

with the leaves of Autumn

And like a corpse, she lays still

waiting for the rest of her to rot away

to be forgotten by time

to leave her mind and herself

And like death

she lingers in the air

destructive and silent

and oh so terribly

merciful on its descent 

Fragile Glass

It's difficult trying to keep up the font of being strong and unbeatable when really your nothing more thsn fragile glass, just waiting to shatter. Always look underneath the underneath. For anything can break under the right amount of pressure. And some people have either gone insane or died from that. The cracks in their reflection was far too large and vunerable for attack from their enemies.

I could make you fall in love with me in five minutes.

By:  http://poetinside.tumblr.com/

Twitter: jasminesealy Jasmine Sealy

You could ask me my name and I could tell you that names don’t matter. That I was named after my grandmother from the moment that pink cross showed up on that white stick until my mother looked at me and somehow underneath the blood and placenta saw a Jasmine and so that is my name but would I have been any different, would we not be having this conversation right now had I been named something else?

You could tell me you think I’m beautiful. And I could tell you that I don’t want to be beautiful. That I shaved off all of my hair in my mother’s kitchen with my brother’s electric razor before getting on a plane to move to the other side of the world. I could ask you what you love most about yourself. I could ask you about vanity. And I could tell you to imagine throwing it away, that one thing, that thing that makes you beautiful.

You could try to kiss me and I could kiss you back. I could kiss you and pull your hair and bite your lips and grind my crotch into yours. I could kiss you like a woman and make you forget about all those girls who came before. I could kiss you and then disappear and leave you less, leave you empty, leave you missing something you never even knew you wanted.

You could fall in love with my tattoos that mean things and the ones that don’t. With my scars and my stories. With the strobe light dancing through the fabric of the best conversation you’ve ever had. With the way I make you feel like the most important person in the room and no one at the same time. With the way I make you think. With the way I make you think about thinking. 

I could make you fall in love with me in five minutes. 

But tomorrow, when you see that I’m just like the rest of them? Tomorrow when I don’t want to be mysterious anymore. Tomorrow when I am jealous and insecure and needy. Tomorrow when I love you back. 

Would you love me tomorrow?