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Literature
Chainsmoker
You're birthday party wishes; the first time I danced in the rain, the flavour of vanilla, on the tongue, from Ginsberg's poetry, your kiss tastes of ocean foam hitting the beach's sand, like a force of nature... Doesn't even know it. Its own strength -It can't acclaim.
Would you be afraid? If I said, that if you'd tell me you donned me my first breath... I'd believe it. And on the pews, you're a force like the mass; the priest, the bible and leader.
Because I was alone In The Dark, until your eyes pierced through. I was hungry for everything, cold to everything and I cried, for midnight became my noon. You painted my walls with your flames and made me come out where all around was alive. You are all that is living, all that is beautiful, all that can bloom and breathe.
And when it was needed to thrive, to birth the warmth and light, when it was absolutely necessary to revive -fire was the prayer,
The boy is not the God
Literature
Healing Journey
Amid the relentless turmoil of your mind, a tempest of thoughts rages, where shadows creep in to whisper insidious doubts about your worth. In these moments, when despair looms large and makes you feel as though the world would be brighter, perhaps better, without you, it is crucial to recognize that this battlefield is not your home. Those thoughts, though loud and insistent, are not the truth; they are fleeting intrusions attempting to undermine your spirit.
As you traverse this difficult landscape, remember that the echoes of past traumas may linger like haunting specters, ever present and tempting you to surrender to the depths of despair. However, amidst this storm of memories and feelings, you must choose to persist. Each day may present a fight, but it is a fight worth engaging in. Do not grant those haunting memories the power to occupy your thoughts or dictate your worth they do not define you, nor do they determine your future.
Consider the profound truth that lies within
Literature
Monkey King's Road, Prologue
Like following an invisible trail, the hooded monkey carrying the enormous box on her back wandered the city's outskirts, her eyes on the ground and her hands tightly gripping the box’s shoulder straps. Onlookers were amazed at her balance and strength, stopping what they were doing to watch her and take pictures. Save for the few monkeys that would sneakily escape into alleys when she walked past, there wasn’t a pair of eyes on the relatively quiet street that didn’t watch in amazement. Dockworkers in the middle of their smoke break threw their cigarettes into the trash to jump back to work, lest their foreman decide they could all be replaced by this hooded stranger. She paid them no mind. She had a job to do and wasn’t about to let any distractions get in her way.
At every intersection she would come to, she would stop and close her eyes, waiting for the next set of directions to come to her. The mental path led her away from the docks, away from the inviting food
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The mirror-maze imagery is unsettling, as is the idea of 'myself finding me'. You’ve packed so much depth and unease into just six words - amazing job! Congratulations on your well-deserved DD feature 