I am a filthy kinda beautiful.
Smudged makeup and bitten lips,
I choke on half finished poems
and we all call what I cough up
lovely instead of lonely
the dirty kinda pretty where
I drop G’s off the end of my words
without anyone sayin’ anythin'
because I have a soft mouth
that I hear looks good for somethin’
an ugly hopeful, the point where prayer
is not enough and even the preacher knows,
hearing “Things are gonna get better”
and knowing it isn’t true,
it isn’t kindness,
they just don’t know what else to say
sloppy poetry, sloppy kisses, sloppy love,
I am a mess of a girl
callin’ herself Grown,
as though I still don’t cry myself to sleep
like I did when I was a child,
as though I still don’t dream
of something so spectacularly better
it could only ever be called a fairytale
how they never wonder if anyone is hanging out
or flinch when someone touches
their arms – their families stayed together
in a world where love makes out of you
a deer in the headlights
how they remember their fifteenth birthdays
with candles lit on top of a Jonas brothers cake
(I vomited all the way home, tripping
on the pavement
carried by a boy I worshipped
and the girl he swore he loved )
these bat kids in small town high school jungles
don’t feel dirty when they think
about the past,
addictions never call them like a beacon
in a stormy ocean, it’s all fun
for the I-don’t-use-tumblr kids and their Disney channel faces
who don’t want to live in castles but in tents,
where my rosary of social media apps
cannot reach them –
forever live the teenage saints,
patrons of the naivety of youth,
their facebook albums of outdated photos
become my holy book at night
as 23 eternities of being lonesome
drag my heart around for hours –
I am so aware of my aging flaws
I wish I could bleach myself on the inside –
to hell with Jordan, let me drown
in Lethe –
i know the water like i know the earth. i drown in both. it always rains mud in my mind and i am always just one storm away from a mouthful of dirt, fingers digging into the ground or the air or the skin of my wrists.
i know the water like i know the air. i breathe both in. i inhale oxygen to live and h20 when i need to let go but more often than not i am clinging.
i know the water like i know my own heart. both beat within me. an ocean inhabits my lungs, a blue whale at the back of my eyelids and fish like butterflies in my belly. we are both unexplored in different ways, both tides breaking all the same.
i know the water. the water knows me, knows how i bleed because it washes the red away every time. the water knows how i live and how i’ll die. it tried to teach me how to survive and i think it succeeded.
A balance sheet is a statement of the assets and liabilities of a firm. It must always tally.
Assests = Liabilities
That is the basic rule.
But life isn’t a balnce sheet, is it? It never tallies, it never makes much sense.
Our strengths do not equal to our weaknesses. The number of happy days are never the same as the bad ones. Our words are blown out of proportion. Our actions have a ripple effect. Our sanity never matches the standards and our love balance usually always has an over draft (more than we can afford)
A balance sheet is the final step in the preparation of accounts. There are journals and ledgers and trial balances that come before it. Each item on it can be traced back.
But can we really trace back our insecurities? How far can we trace our damages? How accurately can we trace back our pain and disappointment?
Being a statement, a Balance Sheet reflects the financial position of the firm on a particular date. A single transaction can change this position.
Your liabilities as on 11/4/2017 may seem way more than your assets but one day, one person, one event can change your whole position.
I’m not asking you to sit still and wait.
When a Balance Sheet doesn’t tally, we work on it. We don’t abandon it, we don’t give up.
You are so much more than a statement.
Don’t give up just yet.
Sometimes you lose the track of the life. And fall into the darkness. Your nights chase the days, days chase the nights. And your light becomes your meditation. Let the Om guide you the way, so your will shall become as strong as an oak. Keep yourself always in balance my beloved friend.