Photo credit: Clem Onojeghuo
Craving
By Nathalia Khawand
I fail to crawl out of my own skin
as a familiar craving fills my lungs
I breathe it in as it tries to tear me apart
I breathe it in but I can never exhale
because a craving doesn’t go away
unless you satisfy it
And so I try
so hard
to turn my ink
into letters
but the letters never seem to come out right
they never fulfill their purpose
They never form the right words
into the right sentences
into the right lines
Lines that I simply can’t seem to draw
Lines as hollow as my breath
Lines like a broken path
that I yearn to cross
But a broken path which remains
covered in the same dust as my untouched pen
and thus the craving keeps eating at me
my mind constantly searches
for something that I realize
isn’t really there…
because if it is truly there
then why is it so hard to reach it?
Photo credit: Bryan Minear
My Head is a Forest
By Nathalia Khawand
my head
is a forest
colored ink
drips down
from black leaves,
painting the ground
just below
where broken sentences
lay,
unfinished,
craving to find
a continuation,
craving
to be spoken.
my head
is a forest
where roots
remain buried,
thirsty for air,
yet unable to reach it,
choking on
colored words
and the idea
of being forgotten
my head
is a forest
where thoughts,
emotions,
notes
and nuances
intertwine,
bending
breaking
connecting with each other,
lost within
the mess
of unconsciousness
the mess
of oneself
my head
is a forest
where light
is broken
into streaks
and strides
and words
broken into
pieces
of myself,
pieces that I am trying to put back together.
my head
is a forest