On Receiving Music…

We were taught to listen …

and then inhale – deep breaths – as if melody has an aroma,

Or the molecules of our oxygen are bonded with musical notes.

Struck!!!

It comes uninvited like an unpleasant memory …it gets intense the more you try to suppress it…
It doesn’t knock the doors down ,it sips through the keyhole
…quietly
like a wisp of odourless smoke…
before you know it, you’re engulfed by a dense cloud of angst
Suffocating and sweating.
Drowning in self pity and doubt…

Then its gone…
as quietly as it came
…leaving behind a pelter of vigorous palpitations and a frail bundle of your former self
Drained of all esteem and fatigued.

Read. wRite. Rhyme.

Comfort.

Comfort. The golden word…

Held with glass hands and uttered with unshakeable resolve. We are told it is an invisible sanctuary,that we should seek it. But when we’ve found it,we are encouraged to leave it… For it suffocates growth. ©

The Self.

📷MyrkoThum

He stays up all night creating characters according to his insecurities,

He crafts with his flaws their appearances, he adorns them with his scars,

He crochets their speeches with his unbearable impediments,the plots reads like the chronicles of his failures.

He omits the true sense of his views with overused periods of ellipsis, it is his personal conflicts that builds up to the climaxes of his stories; his pessimism fuels his obsession with tragic endings.

However much the strength of his protagonists,the embodiments of his fears are the forever victorious adversaries.

Ego.

When he swallowed his pride,

It was not even a gulp.

Poetry Monarch.