profoundstars - Tumblr blog

[profoundstars]

Skin

The early morning hemisphere,

Glows through the cracks in the blind,

Showering my lovers naked body in dim sunlight,

And as his breaths come out like a gentle breeze,

I can’t help but go on a journey through nature,

My hands start at the temple of his head,

Fingertips running over bumpy crags of rock,

Past the thorns in his beard,

All the way to his neck,

I climb over the adam’s apple mountain,

And the river of veins and arteries,

And discover the alps on his chest.

On and on my hands travel,

Until I am walking through the valley,

Of his olive-skinned waist,

The curve in his body, breath-taking.

Like a feather, my fingers travel down and down,

Through the wild grass of his legs,

Each hair like a blade of grass,

Soft but sharp,

I could rest my head in the grass and fall asleep forever,

But I don’t,

As beyond the horizon, I can see the cliffs of his feet,

Strong toes rising high proudly.

I climb to the top, huffing and puffing,

Dragging each finger to his limestone toe nails.

When I reach the summit,

I look into the sea of blankets and wrinkled sheets,

How far I have come!

My hand goes home,

And I move in closer to feel the heat of his skin against mine.

[profoundstars]

“Only 10 girls walked out of a school of 700. We were threatened with exclusion from our graduation ceremony. 

 We were threatened with expulsion. 

 We were told that our effort was for a lost cause. 

 Nevertheless, we PERSISTED.”  

#NationalSchoolWalkout

-  Diana

[profoundstars]

Again and Again

Here again,

Time crawls on,

Another friend lost,

Miscommunication shreds,

Loyalty and emotion into shards.

And I, the only one who knows myself,

Am left stranded on a frag of rock with no one in sight.

The fog is dense, the dew on the grass viscous.

And with one ear I listen out for the sound,

Of my name from someone else’s lips,

Yet, white noise prevails.

And I hold myself,

Together again.

Alone again.

[profoundstars]

Average II

(Part 1 here: https://profoundstars.tumblr.com/post/169672695454/average)

In that cramped room, malicious thoughts were bound to manifest. The fingertips of the past still latched onto the girl’s cracks, like a leech thirsty for blood. The veil of depression hid her view of the world, displayed her life as pointless and meaningless. All because she would never reach the heights of others, all because she was Average. Yet, in all her laments of averageness, not once did she ever stop to think about what that word really meant. Never thought about who she really was; not a single thought cast to how young she was, how naïve she was.

Her world of misery had become a universe of self-hate. That was, until he came along. A simple imperfect boy who danced his way into her life. He went unnoticed at first, as he silently waltzed around her dark isolation. He was ambitious, passionate, he had a goal. He worked hard, and it was foreign, it was new, it was pointless, wasn’t it?

It happened slowly, like two trees slowly entwining their branches, day in day out. The girl winced at the light that was shining through the cracks in the wall of her cramped room, she cried out at every stab of joy that pierced her perspective. Yet, the relentless attacks of hope never retreated. Every time, she would cry about her mundane existence, she would get distracted by another entangled branch breaking through the glass.

The boy, he worked so hard as he brushed the black and white keys. He wasn’t happy with being average, he wasn’t content at accepting his fate. She thought him even more naïve than her. He hadn’t realised the truth yet, he hadn’t understood the grim reality. She looked at him with pity, except she didn’t. His passion sparked a light in her. She was rusted and broken but the way he made music made her look back at her own life. Why had she given up?

Slowly, but surely, she began to see the beauty in the mundane. Embedded in the everyday were crystals, waiting to be polished. All they needed was someone that believed and the imperfect boy believed in her. The ones who were giant, the ones who had created ripples through the world began to seem like crude statues, imitations of illusionary success. They were worshipped momentarily but did anyone know who they were, who they really were?

She pulled out the wardrobe until she could see the thick layer of dust that coated the floor behind it. Be free, she told it.. Every person you meet, every hand you hold, every road your leather shoes crunch on, will be met with a rich life. Sew these words onto your heart. Bury your hands into the soft, crumbly earth and feel the roots of the plants. Your heart is beating, and blood pumps through your veins.

You are living and nothing about that is average.

[profoundstars]

Average

There's a world so beautiful out there. Where the leaves shine a brilliant emerald in the golden midday sun. The vast span of water drowns a majority of the world as if hushing the secrets of the hidden ocean bed. The crickets chirp in the afternoon silence of an untouched woodland area, while a squirrel scuttles through the crispy fallen leaves of autumn. In another land, the snow sobs upon on the chilly bare bark of a dead oak, an artic wolf slinking through the dead forest, camouflaging itself against the grey flesh of the trees. In a backstreet alley of New York in a grotty apartment, a struggling artist's paintbrush makes love to a blank canvas, ingraining the material with permanent beauty. Outside an orange fluorescent lamp flickers. The sound of a guitar being brushed with the skilled fingers of a busker flows through the air, serenading the ears of busy people in an industrial city. In the quiet hush of a library, a scholar studies the realm of Earth surrounded by the books of time, researching upon a new ground breaking theory that will shake the intellectual sphere.

These beautiful moments in time make the history of the world. A history full of talented people who all contribute a piece of their soul to the legacy of humanity. An attempt to contrast civilisation with the ugly wounds of society. Yet there is an invisible and mundane layer of people who have begun and ended their lives in an uneventful timeline. Generations and generations have passed in which people never contribute anything important to the world, who never touch the heart or soul of another person.

Deeply embedded within a small cramped room within a city of prosperity, a girl so average resides, living out her life, always struggling along in everything. Her mind is one of mediocre state and yet so aware of her averageness, she attempts over and over again to try and burn her soul onto the mosaic of life. She tries her best to reach the height that the giants around her; she searches for a ladder to thrust herself on and climb up to the world of success. But she never can. Looking to her fingers she attempts to move them in magical ways that entrance the eyes or ears of many. Her brain cries out as she grapples at the knowledge that comes so easy to others.

She is everything that people once were before they were good. She is simply average and nothing else. She is a skill that is frozen in time, she is a talent that is stuck, that could never progress; an aptitude that would never bloom into a beautiful flower, a tree that would never come into fruition. Just like the secret lives of the ones who were not adaptable to the generation they were born into, just like them she would never achieve great things, she would never break through the glass and reach the warm world of success. Just like a grain of dust that settles behind the unexplored spaced of a wardrobe, she would leave this world just like the others before her. In the end, her memory will get lost in the sharp, cruel and forgetful nature of time, never to be remembered.

(Part 2 here: https://profoundstars.tumblr.com/post/169918829489/average-ii)

[profoundstars]

Warm

Blue light finds his face

In bed, she sleeps to his voice

Under the warm, dim lamp.

[profoundstars]

Ebony And Ivory

Black and white stand at arms,

Waiting for their orders to sing,

Flying above them are sweaty palms,

Single digits hover, hesitating.

But then it’s a race,

The commanding fingers yell,

The soldiers never breaking face,

The first notes ring out like a bell.

In a frenzy of sound the fingers,

Run along the long straight path,

Of ivory and ebony, a story they will carve,

A tale from a chorus of plastic singers.

They’ll journey across travelled land,

Discovering the brilliance of sound anew,

All at the navigation of a skilled hand,

Performing the voyage of art, just for you.

[profoundstars]

Riding The Wave

It's strange how things that used to matter, don’t matter in the face of death. Deadlines are unimportant, socialising is arbitrary and life seems so much bigger than you initially realised. When you are faced with the unknown, anxiety fizzles away and is replaced with a deep, meaningless void of emptiness. A hole that questions everything. Death makes you pore endlessly over those last moments, first moments and the moments that could have been. 

You scrutinise them, wish for them and hate yourself for thinking so much about things that you can’t change. Yet, it’s like an addiction. It makes the pain bearable, like an opiate. All these things lead you down one inconsolable route of self-destructiveness, and no amount of counselling or pills can give you a shortcut out of the darkness. You either ride it out or you die.

And I’ve decided to learn how to surf.

[profoundstars]

I Feel Weird

I feel weird. I feel like nothing matters and, yet everything matters. The world feels small because my whole life is so small and all anyone ever does is care about themselves. Of course, there's nothing wrong with that but it's just so lonely. In a world where all individual beings are stuck inside their own minds, are we ever truly not alone? Someone else can never know what I'm truly thinking and I'm reluctant to share everything in the fear of being exposed to you. Not only that, but we always think before we speak. That’s why I love arguing because it's the only time I feel like I'm seeing a glimpse of the real person inside you. It's the only thing that makes me feel real.

In my small isolated world, am I truly understanding what you're saying or am I just twisting your words to fit my photo frame? Will the true meaning of your words ever reach anyone? How do you know I understand you properly? You don't. You never will. That's why social contact is nothing but an act. Companionship is nothing but an act. An act where we derive our own meanings from it, and portray a person who is so much different from our true spiritual selves. Like a book, or a movie. Everyone takes something different from it. Living is just another form of entertainment that we partake in whilst we are slowly dying. So is it any wonder then, why people get so engrossed in books, the internet, even Netflix?

If even on a physical level we are drowning ourselves in entertainment to ignore the fact that humanity itself is just more amusement, then why do we judge others when they grapple with an addiction? Why do we sneer when we are all facing an addiction ourselves? Every single one of us suffers from the sickness Humanity.

When was the last time you laid down in your bed for an hour and just thought to yourself? Does it make you scared to be alone with your thoughts? Are you scared that you might think about something that might turn your world upside down? Perhaps you're terrified that you might not think about anything at all, or even frightened that when you lay your hands by your side and stare into nothing at all, that maybe the world might seem so much bigger than you, so much more grander than you realised?

Perhaps you're not alone when you feel this, perhaps I feel the same too. When I sit in my room with my headphones glued to my ears I ask myself: do I really love music or am I just afraid of silence? Am I afraid that the silence might seep its way in between the electric signals shooting through the gooey lump of mass encased in my skull? Terrified that it might creep in and take apart the categories humans have worked so hard to create in order to understand the world. 

The silence is all around us and it's just waiting to rip us away from understanding and throw us into the chaos of the universe. It's telling us that we're broken, broken, broken. But it doesn't want to fix us. No. It doesn't want to fix us at all. Instead it wants to take us from our calm little box and throw us into the void.

You may not understand this…but that's okay. After all, we're all incredibly lonely because no one understands anything.

And that's just the way the universe is meant to be.

[profoundstars]

[profoundstars]

[profoundstars]

[profoundstars]

Read the full story here at fiction press:

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3217171/1/Average

[profoundstars]

Read the whole story here:

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3317796/1/I-Feel-Weird

[profoundstars]

Read the whole story here:

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3317796/1/I-Feel-Weird