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  • jcksttn 3w

    Here. I’m taking time for two. Feeling the wind blow through. Sitting here for you.
    I feel a little lost. The world passes by like the early morning frost. Time moves quickly but I’m standing still

  • jcksttn 4w

    After some days pass. A thick fog descends upon my mind. My eyes become like the windshield of a car after a cold, frosty night. My every being drips down to its subatomic particles. They feed into a melting pot of emotions. This can crock has been stewing on high for far too long. Eventually, it all reduces to a hot sludge. A defiant and unyielding muck. Sticky and bitter to the taste…. I think I need a good soak. To let hot water seep into all my cracks like rain in the desert. Hopefully, this will dilute my sludge and carry it away. I may just have enough time to clean the pot Before another day like this one creeps in from the shadows.

  • jcksttn 4w

    Time is sacred and unforgiving.
    An arrow from a bow.
    A complex tapestry, seemingly stitched by those outside time itself.
    Is my story already depicted?
    Am I simply a spectator, suspended in this soft vessel?
    Playing my part in this game of life.
    To what extent can I influence?
    My thoughts manifest from the unknown depths of my inner pool.
    These thoughts become my actions - Were they meant to be?
    Nevertheless, the consequences, good or bad, are mine to handle.
    I wish to ascend above time itself
    Join those stitching the cosmic tapestry.
    Perhaps I’ll leave gaps on purpose
    I’ll call them specs of free will.
    Allow moments for the consciousness to weave its own patterns of infinite possibilities

  • jcksttn 6w

    Fear seeps through every crack in me
    A black, seemingly symbiotic fluid that cannot be contained
    It all-encompasses my sense of self
    Twisting and bending
    Changing not only my mind but my soul
    When I enjoy inner serenity like a calm sea - it’s all too brief
    The seductive snares that have been laid are all too tempting and I’m too weak
    The serenity fades
    The black fluid emerges, silently and without warning
    I close my eyes
    It binds to me, painfully, as if it contains thousands of tiny needles
    It constricts me with every breath - serpentine coil’s
    The black vines tighten around my neck
    Stealing my voice
    Here I fall into the sludge
    Destined to wade through the swamp that is my mind
    Fear is cunning
    Not symbiotic - But parasitic
    I’m left empty. Feeble.
    In darkness with my eyes wide open
    Silently screaming into a void that is my own

  • jcksttn 7w

    I turned on the taps and stepped in bare.
    I held my breath and closed my eyes as beads of hot water unapologetically hit my face.
    Feeling each drop traverse every part of my body - My mind becomes quiet
    My awareness focuses on the cascade of water down upon me.
    I lose myself for a few moments.
    My thoughts and feelings wash away
    Just like the water arriving at the drain.
    A cleansing of my very being.
    I can acknowledge the darkness and the light deep within my psyche.
    The two traits at the core of us all.
    My darkness has a gravity twice its size - the guttural groans and obscure moans are powerful, oddly comfortable and strangely familiar.
    My light feels warm yet, far away.
    Its pull is weak but grows in strength if I can resist my instinctive twist towards the darkness.
    It’s difficult to maintain, the pursuit of the light.
    Each time I feel its warmth and embrace its purity.
    It moves away, like a cruel game of cat and mouse - I am the mouse.
    The little one who is trying to not be swallowed by the tragedy that is life.
    All this whilst I’m at my most vulnerable
    Alone and bare

  • jcksttn 9w

    It doesn’t quite fit

    Relationships feel like that pair of shoes you bought that doesn't quite fit.
    They’re a little tight in some places
    They rub your heels or toes
    You tell yourself it’s fine. They will stretch out and soften up.
    Eventually, they won’t be as painful or restricting. Leading to other more concerning
    But instead of saying - ‘these don’t fit and sending them back where you got them. Be without them for another week until the new shoes arrive.
    You keep them.

    Sometimes the ones you keep do soften up. You see if anyone else is experiencing the same thing. They may offer advice. A few tricks that may help and eventually they feel fine and you’re glad you kept them.
    Sometimes they continue to niggle
    Here and there
    When you have time alone and you take them off, you expel a sigh of relief because at that moment you’re not trying to mould or restrict yourself.
    Sometimes you bleed
    Sometimes you blister
    You patch yourself up and get on with things.
    Putting yourself through unnecessary pain.
    All because you won’t admit to yourself that they don’t fit quite right. It may be subtle
    But they don’t fit.
    They are too tight. They are constantly rubbing your feet.
    Occasionally, they feel ok but that niggle is there

    The faint stain of dry blood remains on the inside of the heel.
    A red flag for each time you put them on.
    Sometimes things don’t fit.
    Deep down inside you know it. You can feel it.
    The difference between some people and others is that some can recognise this and listen to it. Tuning into that whisper that something isn’t quite right and are brave enough to act on it.
    And then some are able to ignore it and persevere because maybe they think there are no better shoes for them in the world.
    They will continue to wear them until either the shoe breaks or themselves within them.

  • jcksttn 10w

    When you came in close
    You would fit perfectly under my chin
    Your scent filled my nostrils
    My olfactory bulb lit up brighter than the sun
    I knew this was a moment I would remember forever.
    When our hands interlocked - They didn’t fit just right.
    I should have ignored this but I loosened my grip
    I wanted things to be perfect - I was chasing a fantasy.
    With your strength and courage
    You called me out
    I was speechless but impressed
    Scared and confused.
    At that moment, I knew I loved you
    But you knew that, this was the end
    A red flag flown
    Leaving me with a memory
    Forever carved in stone

  • jcksttn 10w

    What do I think about when I run?
    All sorts.
    My head is noisy. Too noisy.
    Especially for the first few kilometres.
    This feels hard - I’ve only just started. Why am I so out of breath?
    My heart rate is a bit high.
    Deep breaths.
    Those clouds look nice - They make me feel small. I should take a picture. I don’t have my phone…
    I think I need to slow down
    The pace feels too quick
    Not sure I am going to be able to keep going like this.
    I remember a time of humiliation
    And moments of regret.
    Moments of pain
    And then moments of sadness.
    I replay scenarios like a bad movie trailer, over and over.
    One foot in front of the other.
    I think about how my decisions may have caused pain to others, even the tiniest amounts.
    I remember the pain that I’ve felt as a consequence
    I ask myself, ‘What if?’ And I play those out like poorly written romantic-comedy-dramas in my mind.
    The nights at festivals
    That time in the train station.
    That time, that moment.
    An elevation change brings me back.
    I’m still running too fast.
    I need to slow down - I’m not running a race.
    As if from nowhere - there is nothing.
    My mind quiets down.
    I settle and a rhythm is formed
    A combination of my feet hitting the ground and the air entering and leaving my chest.
    My thoughts become clear.
    I feel relief and I feel free.
    I seem to connect to something a larger than myself
    A considerable consciousness
    It’s peaceful here - I want to stay.
    I’ll be stopping soon
    I’m exhausted
    I want to carry on
    To carry on chasing that quiet mind
    And leave all the noise behind

  • jcksttn 12w

    I sit here on the eve of the end of a decade. My decade. It’s hot. A sticky British summertime night.
    I find myself stewing in a sense of melancholy. I’m almost in a state of mourning. The last ten years laid out behind me like a mosaic, pieced together by someone unskilled and with unsteady hands. The mapping of highs, lows and fuck ups.
    As the time ticks closer to midnight, I’m starting to realise that not much will physically change. I’m still the bag of bones without a large intestine that I was at the start of the decade. Though slightly more weathered and much more self-aware.
    But still, time marches on. Unhindered by my psyche. A clear, undisturbed path in front of me. Perhaps I can learn new skills, steady my hand. Be more mindful of my choices as I push forward into the unknown. I haven’t a clue what’s in store but then again, have I ever known? Are things mapped out by some higher power or am I a product of my experiences and decisions? Some of which, I hope to leave behind. I’ve been carrying a lot of them for far too long and my back is starting to hurt - old age I reckon.
    When the clock hits midnight. There will be silence. There will be no fireworks. No celebrations and the popping of champagne. Maybe I’ll hear a car pass by my window.
    But in that silence, there will be a moment of realisation. A strange germination as I start to grow into this next phase of my life. For me, it feels huge, though you could never tell. I want the moment wash over every inch. I want to bathe in it like I’m bathing in my sweat from this hot, sticky British summer night.

  • jcksttn 18w

    Up in front, an old man was walking. His hands clasped behind his back. He was by no means struggling, with a gentle lean forward. As I looked, I noticed. He was wearing clothes similar to me - Long sleeve striped shirt. Straight leg trousers falling just above the ankle bone - I wondered if I was following myself.
    That perhaps I was experiencing the brief merging of two different timelines. This thought scared me. The idea I would still be walking the same path in years to come filled me with a strange sense of dread.
    He followed the path to the right. I purposely followed the path to the left. Even that felt unnatural. Once out of sight. I chose to look up at the clouds and shake off these thoughts. Replacing them with my imagination of what my life could be.