Nightmares

I dream
a disturbing
vision

I have to become someone else, distort myself, hide myself, alter, transform, I’m not good enough. I can’t reveal myself as myself. Conform. Keep everything in, guard it, don’t let it be seen, even when I just want to scream and cry and make a mess, destroy, get angry.

I don’t allow myself to be visible.

Let me be
let me be
let me be
let me be

The thoughts
run wild
but on the outside
smooth surface
no waves

i must be bad
i must be worthless
i must be wrong
i must be broken
otherwise wouldn’t I be different?

I don’t understand why I seem to think that there is a way to be and that inherently, I must have misunderstood everything. As if there was a right way, as if there was a set future, as if I should be upside down.

All I misunderstand is that there is an understanding.

There is nothing
if I allow there to be nothing.

I’ve tricked myself into thinking
that things matter
and I still
live in my
dream.

Dust

There are days when
I can feel myself
sinking
irresistible pull
towards
what I’d rather avoid

I don’t mean to be
awful
on purpose
and I suppose


I’m not

but going through
conversations
in my head
I pick apart
every word
every intention

and I convince myself

of my sickness

I zoom in and out
simultaneously
and I see myself
become invisible

If I can’t be seen
could I
permanently
disappear?
and if I were to be
erased

where do
the particles that make me
me
disperse?

Wild Power

I’m not sure what it is exactly that I want to say. There is a thought brewing in my mind, but it is still not quite in a form that is an image or a string of words. It is a feeling of something emerging.

It is a rush.

It is a crashing wave.

It is storm clouds forming inside me waiting for a release.

I feel as if there is an unexplored power within me, waiting to be tapped into. Like a pool of clear water, nurturing, creative, life-giving, forever flowing…

I am deep wilderness

I am mountains

I am open sky

I am a haunting echo

Inside me there is an energy, bursting, sometimes only flickering, burning, burning, burning… Sometimes I melt into oneness with all.

Sometimes I am everything

Sometimes I am nothing.

Rebel!

Why did we create a world where nobody seems to fit in?

Or perhaps a better question would be

How?

I’ve never felt like there’s is a place or a purpose for me. No path offered has seemed right, no journey has taken me anywhere. I began to suspect: (a) I can’t be the only one (b) it’s not just me/us, it’s the system and the structure.

Made to believe
things to achieve
rules to follow
ways to behave
lies to tell yourself

But now
so much
to un ta n gle

relearn
unlearn
deconstruct
analyze
set free
resist
rebel
fight
allow

I’m struggling to make sense of all this. I know instinctually and intellectually that there is something that I am getting at, but the realization of it seems to be yet out of reach. It feels so vast to grasp. And I feel so helplessly tiny.

But then again
a revolution
can be small.



Meditations

My thoughts
like wild animals
don’t come out
if they know
I’m watching

Could my intentions
be perceived
infinitely
differently?

A ladder to the sky,

I cannot control
perceptions
I am different
entity
in each
passing
moment

I inside
my mind
I find
I try to see
my unseen
hiding from myself –

A box of tissues
somebody has been ill
or crying
here.

I’m well
prepared
I thought
but the truth is
I know not of
the passage
of time.

Reaching Freedom

Again

A

breath.

I thought we would be there already

I thought we would have

I thought we would be

I thought we

it remained a thought

swallowed dreams

repressed emotions

can I get a change to explore this freedom?

This freedom

you keep talking about

in my understanding

isn’t so free

I

got caught in the illusion

freedom can be reached

but it can only be

allowed.

Love,
Tiina

Still Space

 

I used to make my bed every morning.

That’s just what you do,

right?

 

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I’ve learnt

to think

for myself.

 

 

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Chairs in bedrooms

were never meant to be

sat on.

They are where

galactic giraffes

make nests at night.

 

 

 

 

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I’ve learnt

to ignore

the hoover:

I want to bring the outside in

and

I refuse to get rid of spiders.

 

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There isn’t a clear path

to the most important things in life.

That’s how I think

about my coffee.

 

 

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I’ll probably

just

wash one cup

and leave the rest.

As per usual.

 

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There’s no space for me here really…

 

 

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My coffee table

is too busy

for a cuppa.

 

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I don’t remember

the last time

I saw myself clearly.

 

 

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The dust

in my shower

reminds me

of how we all die in the end and none of this really matters.

 

 

 

 

Love,

Tiina