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Battle-scarred, rally car racing hearts and shards of artistic personalities are developing pneumonia on ten foot canvases. They bare equivalence to hermits. It isn't as dark in caves when you're brighter than white light. It's more lonely in broad daylight when you're surrounded by others and breathing is still difficult with smokeless lungs. We go through this every single day. You don't. We are the uncommon. Not you. The pneumonia is beautiful, though, and I'd pay money for it. I'd hang it on my wall over my bed by the sconce, ya know?

We are the strongest personalities we know.

Snowflakes fall fast and impact loudly, and it becomes normal when you never say a word. It's inevitable when no one says a word to you either. But that's okay. You breathe a gasping breath and a sighing exhale to see the steam come from your mouth. Your nose is as pink as your palms and your lips become pale and crack in freezing moisture. Do you ever notice you become a masterpiece? Or... Are you gross? Do you see yourself as a sniffling Popsicle? Do you even see yourself? Do you ever see yourself?

Rocks are the perfect hiding place when you're afraid of being seen. Even there can growth occur.

Good things can come from solitude.

I've been away, neglecting my work and self. I was gone for too long, so long, in fact, that I almost forgot who I was and what I enjoyed. I'm still figuring all that out, who isn't? I broke up with my isolation and fell in love with a beautiful girl. I made severe, necessary life changes. The world is still spinning in 2016. I'm listening to more Folk and Indie music, and I find myself writing in all forms; every ... single ... day. Have you ever heard the song Tenebaum by The Paper Kites? It's the sort of music that you can't really hate, but could easily enjoy without hearing a single word of the lyrics. It's what I write to now. It's what I live to; the soundtrack to my life kind of thing. I live in a world where Karma seems to be testing me. How many bad things can occur before I snap and do a bad thing. Please... Understand, I am not trying to do anything bad to anyone. I'm not trying to make mistakes. Who is? Who wants to feel repercussions from a mistake? I don't.

I've been away, neglecting my creations. I actually had a friend watch one of them for me while I became someone. She took great care of it, made it something of her own. Then, life happened and we both lost track of it. I stumbled upon my lost creation on a whim of desperation for emotional expression. It was like seeing my child for the first time in years after being raised by someone else; it was unrecognizable. I tried to pick up where I left off and I realized that wasn't in the cards. I couldn't force this child to accept me as its guardian again. I learned I had to approach it genuinely, with all pain on both sleeves and instead of being a father, I first needed to be a friend. I ruined it long ago. I bit off a little more than I could chew, and I wasn't prepared to take on such responsibilities. I wish I could make up for lost time, I'd be better for it.

I've been here for everyone, I've been neglected, no actions required, no efforts reciprocated, no hard feelings. I'm not asking for a thank you. I'm not asking for my time or care back. Those are things you lose trying to prove to other people they're important while you die inside every second of the day. Do you know how difficult it is to feel like everyone's problems, lives, situations, everything, is more important than yours? Where you feel the need to give and give and give and fucking give when people gladly take, because no matter how many times they ask or what they even ask for, you'll give it to them because you care and want them to realize they're important. There is no pain in my soul. It has been neglected by all and I've been left to repair the damages on my own. I've learned, there are no I O Us in life. Life owes me nothing and I owe it to life for teaching me this. I've not really grown as a person, I've just realized I do too much. I don't want to do less. I'll continue to give. But I understand that I will not get anything back for it, or at least I won't expect anything back for it.

This is a post of a memory from a time that I have yet to live through.

     Log cabins are colder when you're spending the holidays in them; alone. Your firewood isn't quite dry, so you use your 44" TV to create an ambiance. The Vince Guaraldi Trio's Charlie Brown Christmas vinyl plays faster and slower every time the needle runs up the warped hills; things a bit smoother as the record plays the needle in toward the center. Negative thoughts flicker in and out of vision; you hope familiar faces will soon be at the door and what feels like forever can feel like a "never will occur" until what you've waited for finally arrives. Home. It isn't where I grew up. It isn't where my parents' live. It isn't my girlfriend's grandparents' house. It's where I am when I have to watch my eldest sister open her Christmas gifts on a video call (and not one of those gifts are from me). It's waiting for your girlfriend to get to you late because she had things she needed to take care of back in civilization. Things her future depends on. Things our family could one day depend on if we were to have one. I understand. So I wait for her plane to land. She knows how to find the place, so I wait on the sofa and listen to the fire crackle on the television, feeling no warmth in my heart. I wait in the dining area, picking at the cheese and vegetable spreads. Half of the eggnog is gone, knowing I'd be the only one of the two of us who would end up drinking it anyway. 

     To be honest, her plane isn't scheduled to land until New Year's Eve's eve. I just have everything ready five days in advance. I sort of worry about things like that all the time. My focus is to make this getaway perfect for her. Perfect for my family. Hell, maybe even myself. Change the vinyl to side B while I heat up the microwave dinner and watch videos of our first time spent together. That trip to New York, or that party we went to, they all have their own little bits and pieces of sentiment and even pain. Nothing has been perfect and I'm grateful for that alone. The videos don't help me remember why I fell in love with her, I never forgot. I just needed to smile while I waited for her to arrive. I imagine her walking through the door with a dozen plastic grocery bags in her hands and the retractable dog leash's handle being hooked by her pinkie and ring finger. Our Husky (whose name we couldn't agree on so we call her different things) runs passed her legs. She slips and I catch her. "Did you miss me," I say with the love in my eyes; pupils literally shaped as hearts like a cartoon character. "Your hair... It's pink." I say. Laughing in my head if she were to say "I change my hair every week and and a half, dude, get used to it," like Ramona Flowers from Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World. I wake up and I'm still alone. 

Summer Rain

By: Sayeda Anjoom

Whenever it rains I feel so free
Do not rush for cover under a tree
I stroll along the empty streets
As the thunder loudly beats
Wind swirls and lightning splashes
Pittar patter rain-drops kiss my lashes
Maple, birch, pine and oak trees cry
Their roots are thirsty, leaves are dry
How magical is the summer rain
Pours from the clouds to allay heat-pain
Sails through the air with an ease
The sun baked planet earns release
Down on the roofs and dusty lanes
Clatters upon doors and window panes
A frightened thrush shrinks in the ferns
With the rain-shower comfort returns
The rain has a spell, all may not get
Some can feel,others just get wet
The pores of my skin unloose a sigh
My tears blend in rain, as I say it goodbye

The Lost Key

By: Sayeda Anjoom

Here beneath a Cherry I lie
Busy squirrels are romping by
Sad and sunken in your thoughts
Counting sighs time has brought
Pink flowers drizzle upon me
Where I lost my golden key
To open the folds of my inner heart
Where all my melodies used to start
You set your love and life for me
No pearls are found in every sea
There you stood numb in pain
Watched me leaving with disdain
Could I go back and fix my wrong
Hold your arms and sing a song
The sun has tilted in the west
Birds are swarming back to nest
Roar of laughter is far behind
None can make the past rewind

Green Pain

By: Sayeda Anjoom

How could I be so broken
           Surrounded by this summer green
Why does my heart bleed
           Flashing back at distant scene
Chickadees sing unsung songs
           Banding with the buzz of bees
Squirrels play hide and seek
           Meandering through white oak trees
Wild flowers giggle in the grass
           Like a dazzling bay
Lonely violet rises among them
           Wrapped up in dismay
The silver lake lies still
           Holding tears of pain
Far-away heaven touches the earth
            Pouring showers of rain
I undo the latch of my heart
            Weeping strangles my voice
He called me his eternal love
            I was his only choice
Until we departed I never knew
            He means so much to me
No more he gives his hands 
            Stares with eyes like sea
How could I be so broken
            In this charm of festive mood
Amazingly lush and verdant
            Air filled with joy and good!   


Tree Mate

By: Sayeda Anjoom

Goodbye, oh my beloved tree
You mean so very much to me
Crawling down mother's lap-bed
Paced to embrace your tender shade
Compromising with the cradle's rock
Passing by the neighboring oak
Comforted in the swing that hung
Tickled by the  grass that sprung
Your green and yellow tiny leaves
Cooled me in the summer eves
Birds chirped from nests in your hair
Listened to the tales I had share
Bold, tall pines towered around
Loneliness here deep and sound
Flowers laughed aflame and gold
What a scene it is to behold
Marshmallow clouds travel away
Branches lifted to praise and pray
What is a wind did I know?
Witnessed him with your bow
Far-off stars up rolled past
I ran home alarmed and fast
Poems earth writes in the sky
With a tree-pen by and by
I shall remember autumn and spring
Treasure the songs I did sing!

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