Typewriter Series – Timezones

Timezones is a part of my Typewriter Series. It is typed on a vintage Remington Two Forty.

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My Body is Homeless

Raging extremities
contained in my flesh
crawling through my brain
enough to cleave me into two

How could it be possible
to contain so many of me
in myself
and yet feel homeless
in my own body

How do I know which
one is me
and which one
I should be running away from

I just want to reconcile
all the different things I am
to become one
to become me
to finally feel at home

 

The sun shines on my grave

You’re like half-forgotten dreams,
and the perfect colour of night turning to light.

The time of restlessness and recklessness,
when pain is inconsequential and unimportant.

It’s like the moment after the laugh dies on the lips,
or just the beginning of a smile.

The tilt of the head, considering,
when the air is heavy with uncertainty.

I’m like a grave, newly dug open,
with sun shining, like on the first day of summer.

Place roses on my grave, decide now,
or come, lie here with me.

Misfit

I wore rounded shoes on a square tiled floor and tried to avoid the lines but I almost always never won.

I saw the floating cloud, so perfectly suspended like newly washed linen on a hanger, and I played games, made up.

I spoke too quickly, too loudly, always honestly. When no one was around.

I had these great conversations, in my head; with a different person everyday. You see, I quickly changed.

It wasn’t easy making friends, but it was harder still, to keep them. And that was a harsh lesson to learn.

I was not a genius, but I was good at a lot of things. And I found out, good was never enough.

I was neither sad, nor happy; I wasn’t lonely, although often I was alone.

I noticed peculiarities, and stared too long. Maybe, maybe everyone thought that I was finding faults. But I always looked in wonder.

I was a misfit. And I just wanted people to see me for who I was: A girl trying to fit in.

Think of you

I’ll think of you as the stars start to fade,
as the moon wanes

I’ll think of you in half a light,
because you’re all the brightness I need

And when the candle burns out,
the old, wooden, rusty table
will bear witness to the time I thought of you
Used and beaten, like burned with anger

I’ll think of you with a tear in my eye
which will run down my face to meet my smile

And my brooding eyes will face the ceiling,
burning with questions, always burning

Afraid to hold you, afraid to let you go,
even though you’re only in my thoughts
An empty room

I’ll think of you as the dawn breaks,
you’ll rise with the sun

And in my thoughts, you’ll never run away
In my thoughts, there are no footsteps
walking away, for once, filling the empty space

In my thoughts, you decide to stay

My Heart on Sale

So I was just sitting by
Wondering all the reasons why
What does one want with a heart?
And my heart, well, it was broken you see
And I didn’t want it anymore

So, I thought
Let’s put my heart on sale

So will you buy it, or are you a window shopper?
It’s not pretty enough to be displayed
But I’ve put a sign board
It’s price on request
The price, my pain

It comes with no guarantees, and there’s no return policy
And I’ve warned enough
It’s damaged enough
It’s broken

But I don’t want it
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

I’ve tried getting a replacement
Maybe it can be repaired?
But I’ve had no luck
And I’ve given up

So my heart, I’ve put it on sale
Are you a buyer, or just a mocker
And let me tell you again
It’s good for nothing but the pain

But I don’t want it
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

So here.
Buy it.
And do whatever with it.
You see, I don’t care enough.
Maybe you can keep it as a reminder
Or you can throw it away
It’s no good I know
But please take it away.

My heart, I’ve put it on sale.
I don’t want it anymore.
It serves me no purpose
Except to sometimes hurt me enough to keep me awake

So, will you buy it?