Critical, creative and digital writingEcriture critique, créative et numérique

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07 04 2014  


I'm being gnawed at, Feeling like imploding- These painful emotions That are part of daily life, I sense them inside of me In this endless moment. Torn from inside, I am a black hole That devours itself, And I can't do anything About it- Except sink, Of course, In the twists and turns Of a diffuse cosmos. When my skin Is prison, When my body Is torture, When my senses In unison, Tell me that nothing Is worth Living- During these strange moments I realise that writing Calms me. Claustrophobia Stretches in front of me, In tragic words, In scattered lines. I take control Of my spirit Of my body Of my pointless And mistaken difficulties. The feeling of being gnawed at From inside Evaporates, The more I think about it, The more I write about it. I feel light, Carried away by the breath Of my lyrical flight. I close my eyes, And perceive the transparency Of existence, And through this cosmic veil, The mountains of my childhood And the torrent of my valley. I see Leslie and our bunnies, I see my Uncles and my Aunties, I see my Mommy and my Daddy, I see Julien, Christelle, and lil' Jessy, Grandma and Granddaddy , I see all of my Cousins, Who are here too, for me. I see them all And smile. I remember that life Is not just pain And difficulty. Thank you for being here And existing In the valleys Of my thinking.