Sleep Paralysis
Waking became worse than dreaming
of guilt and endless rooms
familiar and upside down
bottomless pits on the ceiling
falling upwards
to breathe but not move
words like mercury in the throat
dispel panic through fluttering eyelids
know there is no sense in fighting
a prison of the mind
as limbs stiffen hard
at the sight
perched on the bed
with angel wings
borne of kerosene
headlights for teeth
gnashing at the stillness
beneath tight sheets
A cherry pit soul
screams freedom
TW: Gore, canibalistic imagery, mentions of violence
Reclamation
a crack of the skull to let the demons out
sharp daggers to the chest
pouring love; painting a sygil
violence on grass blades and mushroom tops
too dizzy to lift a hand
skin marred and beautiful, bloody even
nibbled by canines and premonition
bit down on finger bones
gritty and callous resistance
chewed the marrow like tobacco
spit it out, too
onto cold ground; it ferments
like fallen leaves atop moss
the flies buzz hymnals
and maggots squeal
gleeful, they’ll burrow holes
a porous sponge
for mud and dust and rainwater
raw and plain
sinking into the earth
your final resting place
Hello, and welcome back to Captured Moments! While my previous blogs captured my life as a piano performance major, this year, I am shifting the perspective of “captured” in my blogs. I love to take pictures of everything I see—literally. So, I want to incorporate my love for photography into my musical life.
I captured this photo while walking back to my house, because of the stillness and peaceful simplicity. The empty streets, sun going down, and quiet houses are translated to the gentle and nostalgic melodies of a certain song that I correlate this image to; “Gymnopédie No. 1”
Satie’s musical composition evokes the mood of this photo, as the slow tempo and harmonies blend to form a beautifully nostalgic piece. Much like the straightforward and clean singing lines of Gymnopédie, this picture has simple lines and minimalist texture. It is straightforward, yet full of complex musicality.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TL0xzp4zzBE) Performed by Khatia Buniatishvili.
Emotionally speaking, I felt a wave of nostalgic happiness as it reminded me of my childhood. I also felt a bit of sadness when I realized that time was moving fast. As sophomore year is finished, I will only have two years left at the University of Michigan. Being in the moment while I took this picture, I came at peace, standing alone and reflecting on the quiet corners of the street.
Homebody
The copper hinges on the backyard door groan when it rains
pipes thundering like a dejected one man drumline
the clothes line snapped last month
just before the sink ran dry
but the wallpaper got wet somehow
and the ceiling weeps every morning
It sags like peeled flesh
with mold like hair growing
or maybe I’m imagining the fuzz in the fridge
that’s not frigid anymore
and I wonder if that’s why they call fridges fridges
or if chairs always had three legs instead of four
but that can’t be right because the kitchen table has two
and my bed squeaks because it’s lonely
I’ll grease the hinges next time it rains
TW: Sexual assault, domestic violence, toxic relationships
My Savior
Should I bless
the carving in my chest
where your words plucked at veins
and picked at my pulp
wrap me up and keep me
Should I weep
as you leave
Would it relieve
this bleeding heartache
aching for your nails digging in
for the impact of your fist
the raised bruises on my arms
burning between my thighs
It was always you I begged for
I wanted the hurt you’d give me
even still I do
sometimes miss you
miss the misconception
that I deserved this
and that kneeling on my knees
was deliverance
I begged you to deliver me
holy and broken
dignity like a lemon peel
I’m worth nothing to you
and I owe you your falling flesh
without a kiss
of apology or sympathy
No goodbyes
for the liars and sadists
because you killed me
and I saved me
This is a counter to the first poem I made for the blog way back in 2021! In it, I explored feelings of isolation and the sense that those around me were living their lives while I succumbed to my own struggles. I wanted so badly to take hold of my life, but I felt I couldn’t. This revisitation conveys a resolve to live, and serves as a reminder that nobody has things “figured out,” and that that is perfectly alright.
The Fog (Revisited)
Apart from everyone
pure silence punctures
thick fog
not by choice
Not special but singular
beings rush by
defined while I am not
speaking where I cannot
Self-pitiers do not prosper
I transition to spite myself:
a new person of different desires
deeper volition
not helpless but harboring demons
in the dark and daytime
Concealment isn’t comfort anymore
I am strange and suffering
no different from the spectators
The fog recedes
I see now
the world isn’t new
but I am in it
