Tell me..

Do you ever feel the midnight street spininng itself from under your feet?

Has your life  been plagued by loaded trucks of sadness & pipes full of emptiness? Do you ever ask yourself why? Was it something you did or was it something you did not do? Did you feel it coming earlier or was it a shocking wave hitting the shore of your brain? Was that shore a place you made home or was it somewhere you visited as a stranger? Will you ever be able to leave or do you think you’ll have to drown in your sorrow before you come out clean and free of the anchors that were meant to keep you still and strong but instead held you down only to remind me of how helpless you were against the storm? Are you the storm? Or just the sea in chaos?

It’s all a maze. A maze more tangled than what we see in our dreams. Tell me,  why are you losing sleep these days & why do you only seem to speak in the past tense? Tell me why you can’t seem to fill your lungs with air. Tell me about the dream where you’re writing a poem and the words abandon you. Tell me about chasing yourself in ruins and how it reminded you of your old house when you woke up.

“I never used to be this way”

Do you feel something inside you shudder over the memory of how it happened? Tell me about how you stayed up the following night wondering how you had turned into the person you hated and what staring in the mirror felt like that night.

Does the memory still stain the back of your eyelids? Do you blink harder than ever and shake your head to clear it, or do you drown in your nostalgia? Does your nostalgia take you to wondering whether people leave their marks upon us or is it just us creating them? Is it really their doing or is it just a reflection of who we are?

Why are you in love with the smell of roads just after it rains? Is it because it reminds you of the time you felt the piano in your chest coming back to life? Have you been out of tune since? Was that why you blinked so hard? What have you done to yourself to be so empty?

Can you give me a list of the people you never asked to stay but wished you had?  Are you sure you can spell their names without looking away?  Promise me that you won’t pronounce their names like a goodbye. I’ll remind you of how quiet it gets. But tell me.. How much sadness can fit a person? How much emptiness can fill you up completely before you could finally feel whole?

Are you a fan of ditching your thoughts directly on paper? Does watching yourself lose control over your handwriting weaken a part of you? Just seeing the letters out of rhythm, doesn’t it make you feel betrayed?

How often do you start things you couldn’t finish? What are you searching for? An end to home or an end to nothingness? Who are you searching for? The person you could have been or the person you want to become?

I want you to tell me everything, even though none of it will matter because one day you will find your voice again and this maze will feel like home.

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