Up the Chimney

Volcanoes. Boiling inside me. Triggered by the mundane, others would laugh it off. Maybe smoke it in their lungs and out. Tar scarring an imprint. For some, a drink is all the fun, dizzying the mind away from pain. Hang over and next thing you know, it’s come back to haunt you. Think I’ve found the remedy, my own personal therapy. Not certified. When madness is on the run, speed on the motorway. Maximum. Seatbelt. Head lights and tails always to be avoided. When you’re absolutely, most certainly sure you’re all alone, roll down your window. If not too cold, all four. Full attention. Here’s the secret sauce. Bite your tongue until your eyes sting with tears. Blood shot. Take a deep breath. Hold. Exhale while screaming in full volume. Diaphragm. Put some muscle into it. Repeat and repeat until there is no voice left, not even a hum. Warning. If a car approaches dangerously near, act normal. Emptiness, you should be feeling, lighter now. Nostrils flare the last remains of fire. Eyes focus on the road ahead. Hands behind the wheel. For the first time in hours, you notice that you have no destination. Your journey has just begun.

Ascension

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I know it to be true. There is a way to break this spell, cast by thousands of lives. I am paying for the sins of my fathers and mothers. The blood in my hands, dripping in lines. Spiralling in any direction, never pointing the way. Always a battle, the way of the world. I am moving forwards, I can feel it in my steps that hinder so. I can hear the beat of my heart, it is asking me to calm my mind. The noise too broken to comprehend. I feel the music silence me to the stillness of breath, and yet somewhere down below the cold night beckons me to doubt my instinct. The gut, my eternal Sun. I taste the brightness drawing closer to my spirit. It is lighting me to change. I am to become something entirely new. Teardrops pray up to the sky for answer. Confession, in no other color but violet. Rising up is the only way.

©Nicoletta

Tunnels and Flashlights

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The way we turn with no return. Regrets, we miss the ones we love most.
A chance they say is a gift of life, the only way to to start over again.
Back to the beginning, never the end.
There’s no pretending we’ve every won this battle of ours.
But still, we try, we always will.
Until the sight of the brightest light, we will journey tunnels of the dark.
And come the day we break free, I will find my way back to you.

©Nicoletta

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