I Create Apocalypse

•An ode to all those who write•

It confused me from the beginning. I did not choose to be born with a fucking storm in my mind. I did not choose to feel helpless. I did not choose to feel.

It was as if I had faded into the background. Not a silent oblivion. The background that was nothing but chaos – an incessant buzz pounding against my eardrums.

People say that I’m going to be the death of me. Perhaps, this is what all writers hear. It’s a strange crime, isn’t it? The one thing that is healing my heart, is wrecking my mind. My heart comes as a wounded soldier, spending years on the front line, fighting a war it never asked for. They say tears cleanse the soul. But what if words are the tears that my soul cries? How every sentence in ink is a blot of my consciousness. I have found myself defeated and torn apart  by reckless savages. But these words craft themselves into bandages and swords. Into second third and fourth chances.

I have never felt more alive. Every feeling is an explosion, every kiss an intense affair. For the first time, Rome didn’t fall. I have built empires with my fingertips. I’d always choose a lover reciting my words to his beloved, over experiencing love myself. I’d rather live in painfully eloquent agony, than in whims of realistic expectations.

I may litter the ground with poetry and breathe and rant only words. But I choose this. I choose this to be my apocalypse.



22 thoughts on “I Create Apocalypse

  1. Pingback: Weekly Blog Reviews #13 | HarsH ReaLiTy

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s