JOURNALS OF MY MIND

Writing is confusing. The idea of having too many ideas is amusing
Your mind, overflowing with ideas, stretches its hands out to the pencil
and the pencil reaches the paper with excitement yet doubt.
The ability to speak your mind is a mere handstroke away,
but you freeze up. It's confusing, is it not?

You don't understand. Is this all part of the plan?
The mind is the most powerful weapon, yet the gun is jammed
Rusted, weary, unable to fire shots as well as it
did when it was brand new.

Thoughts. Drifting. Swirling. All coming together and flying into the chaotic chasm
That same chasm that used to understand love, that same chasm that used to enjoy life
Thoughts would once swim happily in the chasm and come out brand new
Now thoughts are drowning in the chasm, unable to breathe,
now lost forever.

You grasp your mind and pull it out. Reach within the darkest voids
of your mind. Reach into those same voids that withhold vanquished thoughts that you
tried to make disappear a long time ago. Yet, they never vanished. They were
always a part of you, they just shaped you, and your mind, and became the demons
that you once despised with all of your heart. Now you can stare them in the eye as equals.

Isn't it funny? To vanquish what you hate most, you must confront it head on
Tell it, "I'm not afraid of you any longer." Watch it stare deep into your soul with disgust
"This is you, is it not?"
You wish you could tell it that it was never you but by then
you would be lying to yourself.

The most beautiful thoughts are always beside the darkest.
No matter what you do, there will always be a duality of yourself
One that hates, one that loves. One that kills, one that hugs.
You must figure out a balance, search for that divine boogaloo
and hope you can reach that state of mind.

The one where you love without consequences. The one where you feel happy without a doubt
In other words, be heaven. It is that when you can see heaven. It is that when heaven is those tears
on your face, and you learn to accept it, be within its grace.
Only then, will you find true peace.

 

Noah Carmona

VT

18 years old

More by Noah Carmona

  • Fish net

    Is this my sonnet?

    My voice, free to thrive

    Sea fish within dive

    Reach in, draw the net.

     

    There you are, at last…

    Tell me what you have seen…

    Tell me everything…

    Drip oozed from the bass.

  • A tree

    A tree

    A stationary tree

    The bark so righteous; its core so pure

    The leaves illuminate with the sunlight

    The roots befriend the live earth

    All as one, freely

     

    A human

    A cross human

  • MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN

    In the middle of the ocean I lie
    There is not a single cloud in the sky
    The sun beams down and browns my skin evenly
    Drying my skin like a towel, boiling my blood like tea;