Aching soul

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I lay here in this cold box, yes this box made of pain, with sadness multiplying like bacterias in room temperature, with no way to contain. 

How did I get here? Behind the box of my own depths, a slave to these thoughts that haunt me like I owe a debt, memories of a past life and the man I once was flashing before my eyes, that’s what they always say, “a mans life flashes before his eyes at his last moment”, so I can’t help but wonder, could this be the end? 

How did I get here? In this pit, in this position where I am no longer in control, where the smiles I form no longer reach the depths of my soul, where the laughter that rings on from my throat no longer echo beyond or even console, with my fears and dark emotions taking control, 

How did I get to these depths? Buried six feet under with darkness and gloom all around me, my happiness swept away like a broom, my hopes and dreams set ablaze and consumed, my skies once filled with light and beauty now spells doom, and the creativity of my youth no longer blooms, 

How did I get here? Entombed, bound in shackles with nearly no room, where the only space left to move is the vacuum in my head filled with nothing but a voice that plumes, 

You see I am a seed made from long lines of sadness, nature blessed me with these tools to dig my self a feet deeper into the darkness, and fate made sure my life was a fairy tale, one that brought forth tears and many ails, struggling to keep it together with no avail. 

You see my brother was buried in pain with cuts on his wrist from where he bled his life away, you see mum was never whole again, and dad took to boxing, relieving his anger on his punching bag which was my face, leaving bruises on my skin and scars that cut deep into my soul, 

You see me friends walked away cos they couldn’t help my aching soul, brandishing their tongues against me with my secrets and fears piercing me like arrows, like hot coals against my mind, hurting with every turn, my light faded from my eyes as all my emotions slowly turned cold, you see my life slipped from me, falling into this pit I now call home,

You see I didn’t have a choice but to set my feelings aside and dig my self six feet deep in this dirt of anxiety, depression my only friend the one who was always there, slowly feeding my insecurities making my resolve weak until the depths of loneliness took me in, 

I know now, I shouldn’t have listened, but its too late for me, so I stay here in this well, this pit with only my demons to hear, with my fears all I have left, and oblivion awaits even as I think to myself, I don’t wanna be here.
©M_Collins

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Ineffable

My soul is on fire, made of ice, cold but burning so bright,  

Tell me, that each breath holds meaning, recount my ears with tales that no one was meant to be lonely,

Tell me, from whence does time’s  tide really flow? Will tomorrow forever be aglow above my head like the light that wears a golden cloak?, burning hot with rage as my world reduces to ash along with all I know. 

Will the tales my mum told me long ago, be on loop, a continuous repeat?,  like time playing the music of history and bloodshed over nothing but greed and impulse, 

Tell me, that the unjust will decide what I reap and what I sow, that the earth will continue to pull me into the darkness and the cold, tell me that fate willed it so, that the forces unseen tossed a coin and let go

Was I expected to take a bow and accept my role? This feeling ineffable, these thoughts that burns hot and remain inexpressible, may be  all I know, about a world that stood for eons with nothing to show. 

 ©M_Collins

Miss Bloody Jane Red 


They said she was crazy, to love herself above all else, they called her “selfish”, “self absorbed”, “snob”, some even took the liberty of using all three phrases together, like it was wrong to put her needs first. 

She wasn’t like most people, maybe cos she didn’t feel the need to fake it through life, to live a lie and hide behind her vices, she wasn’t like that cos she wanted to be, she was like that cos life taught her all she needed to learn, and by societal standards she was an “A student”,

Always keeping appearances, -“Oh look Jane! your audience awaits”, heels raising her high up she could almost touch the sky, or was it her self esteem and confidence, one could never tell, her lips always brightened and bloodied by the color that called out for danger, red really did look good on her, she moves  commanding a presence, leaving the male population of a hopeless society with mouth agape and eyes tearing through her clothes like wild dogs ripping at prey, she did like the attention, and never missed an opportunity to put on a show, with a slender figure, perfectly carved out, like it was meant just for her culture. 

They didn’t realize what life had taught her the hard way, that it was okay to be histrionic, to put your self first as long as you are the subject of your own self care. And really she could care less, their opinions meant as much to her as religion meant to an atheist, she lived her life the way she dreamt it, with her eyes open and her ears closed, the perfect Miss Bloody Jane Red. 
©M_Collins

Death’s tune

She woke up to mama crying beside her, confused and hazed, she reached out to her, but grabbed hold of nothing, turning back to the bed where she laid, she finally understood, that life had set her free. 

The sound of the notes colliding from the nearby phonograph of her favorite song, tones playing in such harmony, calming the storms, making her slowly drift away from her reality, and for a short while she wasn’t scared of what would come next,

She came to see life for what it really was, beauty, born of just being, with no need to hide from herself, she no longer felt the pain that came with holding on. 

She danced to the tunes of time, of all that held her bound, she swirled around in appreciation, of all she had being through, knowing that pain is only a factor, one tiny factor in a realm so full of life. 

She danced in celebration of a future she’ll  never have, of a past that didn’t give her a choice, and of a love that left her bleeding, 

“If only mama knew” she thought to herself, “If only she knew that I was no longer in pain, if only she knew that I was free”
©M_Collins

Both sides of Balance 

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… 

…. 
The storms meet at the peak,

thunderclaps with light in between, 

the chaos kisses the peace, 

rain drops bringing the heat, 

her fears where what gave her peace. 

Her soul is a tree, 

which feeds on tears,  

drawing its life force, 

from all that she dreads, 

the very water that gave her life, 

was the acid she claimed left her bare. 

The loneliness met with hunger, 

insatiable lust with love right under, 

her favorite victual,

a tear that makes her wonder, 

if the world was the end or just a ladder. 

Like a book with twists, 

like an explorer in search, 

of all the light she radiates, 

and the source behind the core, 

which she claim she forbade, 

it wasn’t warm, 

it wasn’t quite cold either, 

but like all things, 

its up for debate, 

Distance met the destination, 

fate met with coincidence, 

two sides to every part, 

light and darkness, 

bonded in perfect abeyance, 

both sides of a beautifully balanced whole.
 
Love and life went on a date, 

they met with hate on pain’s  gateway, 

the storms that surrounded raged on, 

almost like it was fate, 

that the very balance, 

of all we knew was a lie and a fake, 

With a singular message that spake, 

Things are not always as they say. 

©M_Collins 

Dark bloom 

​. 

A drop, 

another, 

and then a million, 

as the rains come crashing down

on dry hopeless soil

It tumbles in contact, 

breaking the surface,

Seeps in and lodges 

in between life and breathless air. 

A seed from a tree, 

a fruit or nut, 

sitting on the surface, 

by chance? I think not, 

call it fate, say it was meant to be, 

destiny has weaved another thread. 

A bond is formed, 

a sweet romance 

and seed became one with drops of rain, 

lifeless air their chaperone.

Life is born from chance, 

as the seed cracks open, 

oh the pain, but without the growth cannot be, 

from chance a life is born, 

sprouting from the surface, 

How will destiny decide?

Is life stepped on? 

Is life plucked and eaten by the beasts? 

Or does it bloom from nothing but lifeless sand drops and chance? 

A meeting of fates wheel, 

predestined to be from times beginning. 

Fate decides, to toil with life a little longer, 

The sprout becomes a shoot, 

roots taken strong to the soil, 

what was once lifeless has giving life to a seed, 

a beautiful irony, one of natures loopholes maybe, 

needing more than just stem to survive, 

it grows sprouting leaves to connect and catch more life.

What was born from the darkness, 

needed the light to bloom, to live, 

another irony from life, or is it fate at work, 
The land is dry and air is stifled, 

the seasons go by like clockwork, 

but the sprout still stands, 

with more leaves to show for each circle survived.

Dancing on the leaves was a spider, 

weaving one of natures greatest structures,

On the stems a larva feeding of the surface, 

but the roots remain strong, 

the life born of darkness now supports more life.

The sprouts bloom further, 

A beautiful bud formed, a disease? 

An anomaly? 

A sign? 

Or just a process? 

The bud blooms from the sprout, 

opening up with bright colors in display, 

the beauty calling out to meet with creatures for a relay. 

The wasp dances closer, 

smelling the sweet nectar 

from a life born of darkness, 

the bloom on beautiful display, 

with bright colors anything could hardly miss, 

at the ready to get boarded, 

with sweat pollen spread, 

the cycle begins anew

its nature at its finest.
©M_Collins

Free, Broken and Bare


She lay there, 
her breathing almost unheard, 

eyes open staring into blank space, 

mind free from all that was, is or will be, 

she lay there still, 

the one who carried the whole world on her shoulders, the one who was always there for everyone, 

who took all their pain away, she lay there quiet, 

maybe now they would see she was hurting the whole time, 

maybe they get to understand that her pain took roots deep within her, 

maybe they will finally realize that the one who was strongest was the most broken of them all, 

she lay there, 

all her broken bare, like a part of nature,

even as life ceased, and all that was left was a cold husk, a memory of what was.

she was finally free, or so they thought.

©m_collins