Passion is not always a
Fire Ablaze, sometimes it’s just
a Spark, growing in the
Dark and creeping through veins
I had to draw curtains closed,
bar the doors just to break the
chains holding me, had to
ascertain that my body was not
a hopeless vessel, passion
was there, living in seeds of hope
that blossomed like lotus flowers
in muddy waters-my stream
is still unclean, but
Passion is growing.
"Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly."
A few words about racism:
If you have a problem with Nina Davuluri or any other human being because of their skin color, nationality and/or culture -
unfollow me and fuck off.
You’re patient, and I’m crazy. You’re gentle, and I’m wild. You’re kind, and I’m insane. You make me want to scream, but never at you. Never at you.
You bury yourself deep into my heart and pull out my self hatred and plant love there instead.
When you gently blow on the back of my neck, every cell in my body simultaneously explodes and settles to dust in your hands.
Come home to me, come home to me, come home to me.
To kiss me is to
Taste: your own name on my tongue,
of your disappearing act;
yearning which fades not
To hold me is to
feel the collapse of my Self-
Shattered, but glued in
place, so as to appear to
be the Girl you Thought you Knew
To love me is to
Bear in mind my Coffin Heart-
And to handle it with care
You’d never shown me before
And yet all of this
you will not; my lips are parched
My body, undone
My Heart has left me for fright
'Cause we will never be One