seeking help

my dreams in no particular order:

– my man in blue.
– the hole in my back.
– the skin graft I perform on myself – from my clit to my chin.
– the empty box of Chinese that I would like to fill with my vomit, to see i am made of something. and I am rejecting some things. and I can decide what I need. and what I do not. is that you?
– the wet sock merging with my skin.
– the context: my sister had a dream of giving motivational speeches on beaches. I counter-dreamed. I saw a green monster shitting on every beach she gave a speech. a fight she didn’t know we had.
– the fireflies dying and the horrible feeling of seeing city lights instead.
– the one where your eyes droop towards the dirt.
– the possibility of me being not-all-there.
– the yellows I touch turn grey. or milk coloured. depends on my mood.
– the old boxy tv saying ‘I told you so’ while drinking fizzy orange juice. it doesn’t scare me that a tv would drink juice.
– the new plane I will never attain unless I kill myself. (I’m sorry you had to read that)
– salman rushdie hugging me. this definitely is a bad dream.
– the people missing me. and having ‘the people’ in my vocabulary.
– the missing poster.
– the reward (or just the beginning) of a complete end.

now that the list has been put forward to you all, you may tell me what is a good dream and what is a bad dream. I dream so much that I don’t sleep. I am tired, so very tired. please tell me what is good and what is bad. I would do it myself but I need to get some shut eye. I know it may seem like an optional task but I would like to emphasise that it is necessary and important. I need rest.

Advertisements
seeking help

I Don’t Believe

 

I don’t believe in the first day we met
It’s all just fables and tales.
We may have bled into each others skin
unwillingly seeped into each other’s lives

 

we may have forgotten what we meant

maybe we never said hello right

 

I don’t believe in the way you look at me
Because there has never been a day
you didn’t look dead
And that’s not how it’s supposed to be

 

It’s supposed to be us against the world

                                      but the world burnt us alive

 

I don’t believe in a mother’s touch
Because sadness no longer means
find warmth from your hands
It means find shelter in any man’s plan

 

You didn’t even have to do anything,

I could have brought the blanket

 

I don’t believe in firearms since
the day you shot me in the leg
and I fumbled by your feet
close to kissing them

 

I’m sorry for staining your shoes

I remember trying them on as a kid

I don’t believe I saw remorse
When you froze me with your stare

 

I don’t believe you ever looked at me
standing still when you breathed heavily

 

I don’t believe humans are from one
because we’ve always been about honesty

 

I don’t believe we are all connected
All because you don’t believe in me

 

Aside

Cast Away


Washed up on a beach, she breached the strongest current
She looks down at her hand-me-down fibres, soaked in luminosity
The Northern Star cheers her on as she stumbles to her feet
With electricity in her eyes, she charges ferociously at Polarity


For all her life, she believed the world turns
Because North only ever wanted to see South.

Cast Away

A Conversation With Not-Myself.


Your mouth moves, moves along with mine
I make you believe we’re muted mystics with meticulous minds
You know you know nothing
And I say we’ll know nothing if we don’t let go of everything
And you say ‘everything for me is not everything for you’
And I ask, so what is everything? And you stumble
I’ve got you where I want you.
That expensive wine consumes you
Consults you and commits to you.
Sip some more, my 6 o’clock appointment , so you can zone out and on to a seat of stars
Sit with me and see your every single sin serenade your silver spooned soul.

Look how Subconscious, Conscience, Saint, Satan… I forget which name it goes by now,
But, look how it readily places your every sin onto the conveyor belt before you.
I have it written here, that you tasted the sweetness of honey, but tried more than the taster size, so technically that’s stealing.


Here’s the time you studied your first book and fell in love with Juliet, another man’s woman,
even though you were experiencing puppy love with your first ever girlfriend.
I’d say that’s there for cheating.


Do you remember that sin, where you ate into Eve’s apple and you became shameless?
She made you feel wanted, made you feel. She bit your lip and you bit the curve below her hip. You just loved her, loved her so deep it hurt.
Where’s the harm in that, you ask? Where’s the harm in that? Your foolish cry and your brutish wry turned your virgin Mary into a morish monster with a Venetian vernacular. Even I know that.


Here’s the promise you told a Noah that you’ll be there for him whenever he needs you, but when you found friends to watch film noir with you, Noah was no longer new to you.
You quickly forgot that old promise, didn’t you? It’s okay, I see that come up quite often.


There’s the time you told a Sufi that you have the same zest for learning as he, but you just spent your petty days saving up for your fare to Sodom. I think you should have got away with that. It sounds like you had noble intentions.


You told yourself you know what you’re doing but you don’t have a clue. You told yourself you believe in One but you ploughed through so many theories. You told yourself you want to be free but you’re still happily shackled to the greed.
I’m going to put that down as lying.


You doubted your strengths, you doubted your dreams so you aimed to be just below majestic. That’s injustice. And stupid. The only thing you weak clay things can do to escape this rotten world is dream; and you stop yourself from doing that.


You left the ones you love to be in love with yourself. Apparently that’s Lust. I don’t see the big deal with Lust. It consumes you with the same ecstasy a god can give you. But, I don’t make the rules.


And now my favourite sin,
You calmed your soul by telling her everything happens for a reason and now that you’re six feet under clouds your soul asks, ‘What is the reason? I’ve been waiting so long.’


Your muted mysticism has no answer. Well look at you, The Great Pretender.


Your conveyor belt of sins doesn’t stop.
Don’t be afraid, it’s not the first time that’s happened, I’ll just be a little late for my 7 o’clock.
I’d carry on showing you your haughtiness whilst sitting on these stars, but the skies are finding it hard to hold all your faults, you see, and frankly I’m not being paid enough for this.

A Conversation With Not-Myself.

One of my pieces I wrote 2 weeks ago. Let me know what you think of it! 🙂

J. Adamee

I wake up and whisper out-of-worldly woes
Of how I rose in your name and in your name I am composed
I whisper so I can measure how sincere I can be
But, scrupulosity is the sister of satan
And the cousin of the angels that left heaven
And now walk upon the Earth.

I am composed,
I am sure that in my name is my ultimate goal –
only through loving your name.
But the night before this morning
I posed under a moon’s light,
And cried a wolf’s cry, attracted the Dark away from The Dark
And entered the parked horse and carriage
Which then lead me to my lover’s patronage
Oh, my lover’s patronage.
He provided for me last night, and loved me like he shouldn’t
He encouraged me to love him without prudence
So he fucked me hard and I fucked him right back.

I love…

View original post 135 more words

Composed

I wake up and whisper out-of-worldly woes
Of how I rose in your name and in your name I am composed
I whisper so I can measure how sincere I can be
But, scrupulosity is the sister of satan
And the cousin of the angels that left heaven
And now walk upon the Earth.

I am composed,
I am sure that in my name is my ultimate goal –
only through loving your name.
But the night before this morning
I posed under a moon’s light,
And cried a wolf’s cry, attracted the Dark away from The Dark
And entered the parked horse and carriage
Which then lead me to my lover’s patronage
Oh, my lover’s patronage.
He provided for me last night, and loved me like he shouldn’t
He encouraged me to love him without prudence
So he fucked me hard and I fucked him right back.

I love him limitlessly but I’ve never been taught to
You love me limitlessly, why didn’t you teach me to?
Brought to a halt, I fall upon your unspoken cult of questionable faults put upon me
And broke my bespoke faith for the rest of the night.
Bright lights and horns on the motorway, I find my way home.
You told me to love creation, and I’m loving you both.
I love Love so much I want you to watch me make love to myself.

Is there enough room for three of us plus two more for our egos?
Until I get the answer, I’ll love my lover like he’s a placebo
Standing in place for you.
And if there isn’t enough room
I’ll love you one day, then I’ll just pray I love you the next.

Composed

Literary Legacy

She underlined to understand.
Finally, I go through the books she left behind.
I couldn’t caress the courage in me to watch her come alive.
She had two copies of her favourite book.
One is for comfort, one is to surpass time.

She marked the philosopher’s monologue and I question
If these thoughts were the author’s or if it was published just for her.
She starred any courage the protagonist portrays
And it manifested into her own gritty novella
She drew a backwards question mark where she thought the story could have gone a different way
And she boxed the scorned lovers’ words that scared her,

made her feel too free.

I didn’t know there was such a thing.

I touch the corners of tattered pages. She touched these pages too.
I trace each underline with my finger,
I don’t think she ever knew
That she would leave her own her own legacy through literature
Or that I could read her through reading
A Room With A View.

Through each book I flick, I learn that she
Was never satisfied with tranquillity¹
She knew more than she thought she did˜
She never took anything on its looks, but took everything on evidence¡
And she never, ever, killed a mockingbird²

I read these books with fresh eyes,
And make my own memories.
I smiled at a line that she kept free of streaks,
Why did she not like it the way I do?

I decided it’s time to buy my own copy
Of her favourite book
Leave my own lazy legacy
And watch myself come alive
After every underline.

“Never you mind. A guy got to sometimes.”*

1 – Jane Eyre
˜ – The Picture of Dorian Gray
¡ – Great Expectations
² – To Kill A Mockingbird
* – Of Mice and Men
Literary Legacy