The Pivotal Moment

One night I managed to not sleep at all pondering about the word 'pivotal'.
I mean, okay, sure, pivotal.
You know that one moment where you have absolutely no idea where you've plucked the word from and why, out of all the words, it just had to be that one that endures?

I looked it up to figure out what it meant in which it showcased words 'vitally important', along with 'serious', and 'critical', and 'all-important', and 'substantial';
and 'burning'.
I stopped and went with that one.

The world recognized this and I am fazed.

I am fazed knowing that for something to be substantial- and important- and glimmering; is that it has to be burning.
The world recognized this and noone bothered to leave a yellow highlighter on it.
Now, I thought, I finally had a word to highlight it with.

You know; The scene when I came to your rotten event and you told everyone that I wanted to be there and you actually thought that I did and all your friends thought that I was edgy.
The scene when I waited 4 hours in my parents' living room for you to come by just to tell me that things aren't going the way you pictured and you thought that I could handle it.
The scene when I listened to my favourite track off of my favourite record and the first thing I saw was you tying your shoe laces on my front porch and that it didn't matter.
The scene when you told me that I was your saviour and for a moment I almost believed that I was.

Isn't it spellbinding how the mind can steer you in full auto-pilot to something that you didn't even know existed and makes you go, "Hell, that's a fucking good one."

Your mind is a compass that moves in a reckless but precise motion and wherever it takes you,
You, you are supposed to just follow it through and expect your worst to become your best.
It is a gift to have been brought to a beautiful holocaust that will leave you majestic and non-forgiving and prosperous.
This has to be this way and you,
You are meant to be this way,
Burn this way,
Walk this way,
Win this way.

Girl, let them run from you.
Let them kick and scream and be terrified of you,
Look at you;
You are beaming bright in red and orange.

You see that?
It becomes one of those moments.

Those pivotal moments.

Things I Am Good At

The present never indulged me in a way it did for people.
Having a notable meaning is a thing that they searched for,
Searched for; scraped, weeped, and moped for.
Wars were built on the process of finding.
I instead searched for the way to unlearn meanings.
I am good at unlearning.

Twenty five.
A hideout is a place I come back to in every moment in between agendas.
I carry it everywhere within every mile and it is not because I wish to escape,
But mostly because I never leave.
I would never desire it and I would never need to.
I've made a home out of every wreckage and it is what I do in my victorious days.
I am good at making a home out of things.

Twenty eight.
Colossal beings does not make me feel paltry.
I am bigger than most of them and it is a curse that I think this is exact.
Being an ocean does not mean that every traveller will roam in you eternally.
I carry the world on my backbones because I am able to.
I am good with being big.

Thirty two.
Time is a foreign thing.
I've managed to destroy most clocks within my space because it keeps looking;
Looking and making disreputable notices that involves me and the things I am not doing, the verbs I will not say, and the things I can not become.
Time mocks me in the most unrecognisable language that I seem to still understand.
I am good with foreign things.

Fourty seven.
Trains take people to destinations and away from them.
I do not grieve on this.
Departures and arrivals are plain meals people swallow in,
We stay in and yet we move lightly.
Moving is a thing we were built to undertake.
I am good with vehicles.

Thing is,
The thing about being good;
The dangerous thing about being good,
is that it still does not fill.

Mighty Mights

The monsoon has arrived.
Who is the tall dark figure that kneels before my disfigured porch?

The monsoon,
            has arrived.

It has come differently this time.
The pace was tighter.
Most landscapes changed in most sights,
The hills grew damp and the tides moved lighter.
What are these?

All these crippling heights,
                        and mighty mights.

It's just not quite the season.

Powered by Blogger.