Reflections In The Right Venticle

Darlin. Your heart is a machine.
An organ.
A blood pumping mechanism.
Not something with endless feelings and hollowness ready to consume your body when it breaks into a million pieces.
Maybe it is that too.
Maybe it is all you are.
Your heart becomes you when you keep reminding yourself everyday that you are you when your heart rules you and your emotions.
Now I know people tell you that your heart is the worst thing you have because it doesn't see clearly and it makes ridiculous choices but honey,
Your heart is where it all began. Where God lives.
How can it present you with lies?
You can see through the mirror laughing back at you because it is so indulged in hopes and false feelings.
Maybe you love a rock. Maybe a broken pencil.
Maybe maybe maybe.
Your whole life is a maybe.
Don't be someone who moves against the current of the blood flow.
Make your heart your guide.
Make it visible in yout eyes when you see yourself in the mirror.
And goddamn it, LIVE.
#Invictus
Reflections in the right ventricle
Copyright , #IrumZahra

Life and other disasters-Invictus

More than often you are surrounded by the puzzling questions of life and it's substitutes.
Love, drugs, music, travelling, books, photography, Cooking and so many others.
You call them interests when you start them and when you start replacing the uninteresting and somewhat annoying and even the most hated of things with these interests, they travel through time and space to create a new door for you.
A door to escape
A door to feel yourself through the eyes of your interests.
That is exactly when these doors become the substitutes for life.
You forget living through life itself and you begin living through them.
Everytime you feel blue and you think the world will end, you go through these doors and feel alive.
Ironic.
Life loves us and we love these doors more than we love life.
Why?
I don't know.
Do you?
No.
Because whatever you say or think will be an excuse. A reason.
You will start defending your wild and free heart.
Sighs.
Heart is such a kid. It is more than a 100 years old old man and a 5 year old kid on a swing at the same time.
He loves these doors and he makes sure you believe that you don't and you won't live without these things.
Where would you go if not these doors?
Will you be lost?
Or found?
Accept it. You'll always choose these doors over everything.
Question is, for how long till it locks you out and leave you with no keys?
What would you do then?

Life and other disasters, #Invictus

To Play A Broken Record

I hate it when I am trying to write about things such as life, career, parents, friends, freedom, life and death…

But my entire mind agrees to talk about you.

I keep trying to rewrite what I have, remake what I am. And all I manage to think is how you are so content with happened to us, that you sleep just as perfectly fine as any other person. A person who isn’t in love, and why? Because you say that there is no time and space left for real love. So what am I supposed to do then? Cry?

I sure as hell have cried too much. Way too much, and I keep missing you. Not on big occasions, well yes on them too…but on little things. Like your favorite coffee…like your favorite place to eat and how you like to eat. Your disgust on things…and it makes me utterly allergic to that specific thing at once with no reason other than you, you alone. Every time I try and focus on things, you’re the one who sneaks inside my brain and corrupts it. Suddenly I want your hands wrapped around my waist. And your lips near my ears telling me to slow down. Because there is a coldplay song on the radio in your car; and you want us to be in that song.

Together

It really is; a shame for us to part.

Am I supposed to forget you? Like you forgot me?

I was your psycho. And you were my therapist. I fell in love with you. And you tore yourself away from me. You should, come back and haunt me. Even for one more time.

Just once

I want to show you how I have learned to smoke so secretly. I want to tell you how many drugs I have tried. I want you to see my eyes. Darkened with sleeplessness and I want to prove to you that I am not a drag.

No.

I am doing something with my life.

I am trying. I am fighting.

Not just to survive, but to live.

I am brave.  I am living without you.

It’s a hard thing to do, but I am trying to.

One day, I’ll see you. You’ll be right in front of me. And I would be able to reach out and kiss you.

I am waiting for that day. I am still hoping…Which means I am alive.

To Play A Broken Record, Psychaotic

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