AUTHENTICITY. THORNY WATER

Ramin Entry #35

Written 12 – 13 December 2022

A dark abyss of nothingness.
Hidden in the deepest blackness.
Surrounded by murky waters.
As far as my eyes can see

Water so thick and dense.
Forgotten trampled mud holds no comparison.
Permeated with bushy thorns of despair.
Devoid of love and affection.

Here I lay asleep.
Here I made my home.
Here I lay my head to rest.
Here I live in its gory.

Chains and shackles bind me.
As far as my eyes can see.
In this dark and desolate home.
Is this the fate of my life?

Underground chains spurting unending rivers of tears.
Tears in automation that knows no bound nor origin.
Plowing through in unimaginable shapes and intensity.
Waywardly compassionate in its nature.

Barbed chains lashing and whipping pools of gushing blood.
Pain so intense death becomes a spa retreat.
What has become of my soul?
That I now know not of myself.

Constrictive chains oozing out screams and screeches of sweat.
Sweat that glides gracefully like razor blades on ice.
Each stroke slices like there’s no tomorrow.
If only holding space for my future is a thing of tomorrow.

Chains of mammoth proportion asphyxiating my very life force.
That to breathe is a luxury in itself.
If only the whole earth would stop pining me down.
Then my lungs could expand again in a sigh of relief.

Is this what life entails?
Alone I persevere on.
Rusted chains I drag chafing me.
Chains as far as my eyes can see.

Fervently through the bottomless pit.
A sea of terror looms within to engulf.
My home where safety resides.
My home where horror is bountiful.

My home, my prison…my curse.
Comfort, safety…my torment.
Sleep, rest…my demise.
A harsh reprising repertoire.

Drowned in the sea of venom.
Hope is nothing more than a piercing pinhole.
At the tip of my finger its ray I can almost feel.
Unreachable yet fleetingly so close.

Anchors dropped from atop presumably as refuge.
The allurement in bonds of relationships I find comfort.
Woefully, a mere concealment in temporal mask.
Lo and behold, pirates posing in berserk.

Here home alone I linger on.
Home is where the heart is.
What heart so tender, delicate, and fragile?
As it breaks into a million pieces.

Pieces I frantically attempt to recover.
Like a dearest kidnapped child so desperately.
Freedom I yearn amidst sharks’ infestation.
Their teeth tearing flesh I dreadfully wish to partake.

My prison, my home…my curse.
My chains, my shackles…my friends.
What reality is there in breaking free?
When escape seems futile.

Must I succumb to deceitful mask-wearing again?
To blend in amongst fields of dandelions.
What becomes of my soul then?
Forever lost blown in the wind.

What then now?
How many more bitter cups await me?
Until sweetness nectar embraces.
Merging unto blissfulness I surrender my soul.

This journal chronicles my trauma-healing process and progress. If you’re interested to read in sequence in its entirety, you may jump directly from the beginning >here