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Phoenix

It happens while I least expect it, when I hit my solid state. It happens as I start believing that that dark maze was my forever home. It happens as I am naked and neglected, mistaking myself for a less than magic being.
Confused and bent, I thought I wasn’t going to stand tall again.
One crack at a time I hear bones mending, and veins connecting and intersecting. I suddenly stand, feet to the floor, a thrust of muscles zapping strength up my skeleton and a charge into my heart. It beats and I am myself again. It beats and I am no longer a failure; no longer beaten down. It beats and I am above the toxic city again. It beats my body into fire and crystal. My mind sets itself aflame and lights take me again. I thought I wasn’t able but I am. I thought I was numb but sedation subsides; yet I remain.
I remain after the storms and the earthquakes. I remain under rocks and inside oceans. I remain even when I want to disappear. I am invincible even when I think myself invisible. I am strong beyond my need.
Only when I almost destroyed myself and my surroundings did I feel the spark. Only when I believed in nothing at all but myself did I remember how it felt to be in love. Only when I closed all portals outside of my self and looked within did I trip over my very own core; my heart. Only when I stopped struggling, I found myself afloat.
I am not mad, I am not stuck. I am not down and I am never soluble. I do not melt and I do not fear this world. I am not slacking anymore. There is only me and my might right here, there is everything I am yet to become; there is this day and this moment. There is the magic and the human, there is the surreal and the fact. There I am again; taking what’s my own.

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Let my poem live

I have erased more than 16 full texts by now and I still find every word I write ridiculous to the bone, it bothers me. Sentences are like insects they crawl in asymmetric lines and bug me. I am disgusted by my melancholic metaphors and self fulfilling messages. I have finally become too pretentious for my own sake. It’s no literary pleasure, it’s literary vomit that i have been producing lately. I am shocked that nobody has slapped some sense into my hard head yet. But considering my seclusion loving character, i must discipline my own performance.
Spare me the lectures of my elders and my peers’ experienced opinions. They read my posts and think they have the power to now sum up my personality traits into sane or pathological patterns of self dysmorphia. I do not write for an audience I write because I don’t speak so well. I can’t make much sense vocally. So there goes, not art just convenience, another way of practical living; survival.
A rant; perhaps. Artistic rebellion; perhaps. There I go with my lyrical worship attempt. Again.
I must lay off the music, the books and the unsupervised freedom of expression. Unsanitary unnecessary classification of my human experience. I am a suggestive sensual and anarchic case of shy and dismissive femininity. I am so full of words I am a poem overflowing into rhythmic confession. Dear lord I beg thee, let me cause no harm and feel no hurt for I am an inconclusive case of human contradiction.
Forgive me and Forgive thee for an imperfect design. Forgive and watch a beauty so extraordinary peel through the shredded failure of human impotence. Forgive, and let my poem live.

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Beautiful morning. A space for sanity

I open sun drenched eyes to a blue sky and a haze of early summer. My palms are moist from the grass beneath me. And my cheeks warm and pink from the shameless caress of the sun.
I find myself looking up into vastness and eternity, blue truth and blurred beauty. A still morning.
I smell the cries of the night on the grass under me and the glisten of trees around me. It had been so sad i presume. Yet with the morning, the sun runs all its desire to light the world and save it from the misery of the night.
A beautiful life they say, come get away. A creation in its own and a mystery to the core. A giant success and a painful let down all in one still effortless morning.
So i get up and look around. I look for the door that i had used to enter. This beautiful morning is a state, a situation that i looked for in every pair of eyes i gazed upon. I squeezed it out of every wonder and every smile. I posessed it when i held a loving hand and met a genuine friend.
I love it with all the goodness in me, yet i fear losing my passage to it. For when the chaos grows too inredibly loud i do lose it. I forget where that door to it stood. I imagine it and cry for it. I mourn it.
i search above and beneath me for it everytime. It is never easy to relocate. So one would understand how real i am in that place.
So why am i in such a hurry to leave now that im here?
I love the solitude of it and the simplicity. It speaks so clearly to me, i hear myself unsensored here. So i sit back down, i spread my arms apart and lay my head on the most appealing shade of green grass.
No confusion, no shame, no pride, no stupidity or ignorance.
I close my eyes and rest assured for when i am here, under the vision of clarity and this sweet surrender; the world can wait, it has to. For the sake of my sanity it stands still.