Michael

For all the times when my body wasn’t mine,
Please remember
I was just a vessel,
A pathway to something better.
I had room to grow,
I was still this cookie dough
That legends talk about.
All I could do was
Resist and pout.
Now I’m not better,
And I’m not worse either.
I’m the same vessel,
With a little more stuff in me.
I still have room to grow,
And will probably do so
Until there’s no more room left.
Then this vessel won’t be as deft,
And things will spill,
And that’ll no longer be a skill.
Spillage becomes louder,
Spillage becomes death.
Spillage becomes chowder,
That’s when I’ll lose my breath.

Siren

I am the song,
And sometimes I am the siren,
And sometimes I bring the fire
And your whole house down.
There’s good and bad in me,
There’s bad and good in you,
And in the middle of the night,
In your dreams
You only see nightmares of me
And taste the dreams you could have with me.
Sometimes I cut, bring on the harsh truths,
And sometimes you cut me,
Indifferent and apathetic.
Someday we’ll switch the roles,
The pain will stay the same.
I am the siren,
And sometimes I am the song.
But most of the times I am that poor fisherman
Drawn out by waves and sounds and voices.

London

And it took me ages to get home,

In a city I would’ve never thought I’d call home.

This is where magic happens,

Where I’m equally invisible and very observable,

Where you could walk without getting anywhere,

Where you could go without getting somewhere,

But where places are home everywhere.

You can walk on the Southbank,

Imagining how it feels to swim down the river,

Or you could go south the Thames, where all the fancy people live.

You can walk through Camden

And taste the wild side,

Or go to the museums and galleries,

And find that life is on the palm of your hand,

Listening to you, feeding you, tasting you…

I know I’m home now; I’ve stopped missing myself.

The Only Thing

Who are you after all the people are gone?

After you turn off the lights that fill up your life,

And turn off the music,

And get in your own bed?

Do you like yourself? And who you’ve become?

Do you miss the acceptance of others,

And the hugs from the mothers

You’ve had?

The friends that keep running towards you

And giving you purpose?

Who are you, when all you have now is time?

And who you were supposed to be when all the lights were gone?

Do you run from yourself

Or do you run from others?

Do you think you’re a work in progress

Or do you think you’re done baking?

Do you have certainties about you

Or is the only thing you a very clear unknown?

Are you happy and kind? Or are you at least trying?

There is still time for you to learn all of this,

To learn yourself,

To learn the others,

To learn love and despair,

Hope and breathing in the air.

The only thing you’ll always have

Until the day you die

Is time.

Personal Crisis

Maybe it’s not fair to judge the others, as I have found out that I myself I’m a questionable human being at best. I’ve always displayed a bit of preachiness within me, but now more than ever I seem to get annoyed at everything and everyone. I am annoyed at my friends who share serious information on the coronavirus, and annoyed at my friends who don’t take it seriously. I feel like I am two people in one and choosing only what’s convenient for me to display somewhat of a semblance of perceived normality.

I don’t know why I do all these things. I am okay with my groups of friends, and I am okay being by myself, so in no way I’m trying to drive them away. It’s just that I’m struggling to find my place within me. I’m also trying to nurture those relationships I have, as I do think they’re important and I want them in my life.

I’m maybe a bit unbalanced, but somehow, I don’t feel like it? I mean, it does feel sometimes that I’m on the outside looking in, and I’m viewing myself through someone else’s eyes. Is this the new reality? Am I going crazy?

PS: Adding this to support my internal healing, and maybe yours too.

PPS: yes, it’s the coronavirus issue, it’s affecting me and my relationships more than I thought.

Legacy

And all of this time I’ve known about the brevity of life,

How special, tiny and scared we are,

How little we matter

In an ocean of feelings,

How big we are,

And how small are our healings.

I knew that you’re leaving,

And somehow it made sense.

But I am still dreaming

Of days that are less tense,

Of days when you’re here,

Your legacy unforgotten,

Of days when I’m happy,

And smiling more often.