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Naisa Salmin Poem
I know you're tired.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
Are you breathing?
Good.
Now think. No no, not about them. Think. You're the only one that matters now. It's just us. Just me. Just you. It doesn't matter that they think we're deranged. We are. You and I, we are completely and utterly demented. You know how I know?
We're still sane.
Just think about it. No listen, think about it, even after all the mayhem, the total mania of being through what we have been through, we can still get up and act like functioning humans.
Are you still breathing?
Perfect.
Can you feel the throb, it's almost like it's not there then you twitch and it comes stabbing you back. Surprisingly, it's not discomforting, is it? I mean I know it looks that way but it's not. But that doesn't matter when it's me and you. We're here, forget them.
Breathe.
Go to that place in our mind, where the vacancy is comforting. It's desolate. Often abandoned. Makes you feel better, doesn't it?
Now wait.
I know it's slow, lesions often are but the best thing about them is that the soreness lingers. Come on then, relax and close your eyes.
Breathe.
Let's make a memory.
Copyright © Naisa Salmin | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Naisa Salmin Poem
I've been wandering aimlessly looking for somewhere to go. I don't want to want. I don't want it, I abhor it but I need it.
I don't think that most people can differentiate between the two. Between to want and to need. See, I don't yearn for it nor do I care, it just is. Is it really to want when you feel displaced but you're sufficient and you don't desire it but it has to be done.
Do you think that's why people don't think about it anymore, that it's easier to tell ourselves that we're in dire need of a particular thing when we merely covet it?
A thing. Sometimes a thing can change our whole perspective. It's like our impulses are always on guard and we're just waiting for the goddamn sign, a click in our minds and we move, stop signs ignored. What's the point in waiting when all we do is go?
The silence in my head is defeaning and I need somewhere to stay. Only for a little while I promise, I won't take up too much space. Just point me to a corner I swear I can make galaxies in it without you noticing. I don't want it truly but I'm not aware of what is real and what's not anymore. It's like suddenly I'm being deprived of all the oxygen that I'm breathing, that it's turning into carbonmonoxide en route to my lungs. It's desensitizing.
This need to feel like I belong.
And I don't like change but it's all that I know.
So tell me, are you home?
Copyright © Naisa Salmin | Year Posted 2017
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