Black memories 

It did not feel taxing, 

the fourth time,

or shameful,

the way 

your hands 

went down

to parts 

of me

even 

I wasn’t 

acquainted with 

yet.
It did not 

scare me 

anymore, 

It did not 

make me 

want to 

leave 

this body.

I had left

already.

This, 

these hands 

and feet 

and these eyes 

are just

vacuum and skin.

I did not 

feel disgust 

the tenth time, 

in that corner 

in the dark.
I did not 

want 

to run away 

I was home.

I did not 

want to escape.

There 

was

none.
I did not 

feel the pain

the seventeenth time,

when 

my mouth 

slit open 

and bled 

from 

too much 

force.

I did not 

feel 

the need 

to wipe the blood 

off my 

thighs.
I did not 

feel the pain

or the sting 

of your nails 

cutting through

the insides 

of me.

As a matter of fact 

I did not 

feel

anything 

at all.

-WANDERER // B l a c k M e m o r i e s 

Sunshine and Shadows 

“There will come a time when peace will seem like a long lost luxury. In the middle of chaos you will find yourself standing, lost in no thought specifically but you will feel like you’re concrete, you will feel numb, and you will begin to question whether being this stoic is even human?
There will come a time, when you will have no idea what to do, and you will come back to reality after zoning out a thousand times, from some moment you wished you were in, or one that you wished you never lived through. 
But remember that these days of feeling indifferent or rather inhuman, don’t last long. They are demons, shadows that leave remnants of themselves through the sunshine, but although they exist they don’t overpower. 
These are parcels that come along with life for us to learn that the sun and the shadows are metaphorical balanced entities that explain life quite simply, if you pay attention. 
They explain that the good and bad are equally present in life, either cannot be eliminated, and that there is always something to make back from either.

Friend.

I look at these strangers around me, 

faint giggles and jokes.

I’ve known them long enough for me to realise I don’t. 

Suddenly, they fade with the wind, and I’m alone in the room, 

alone with a glass before me.
The curtains let the sun kiss the alcohol in it,

and the bottle shies away.

With my head resting on the table 

and my hand stretched out, 

the perfect drunk, 

I watch the friend I tend to rely on, 

when I have no way with my mind.
I down the drink I was but, supposed to enjoy, because it’s too much to take. My mind is wandering off wildly, and it’s not an adventure. It’s a suicide trip. 

I feel my thoughts suffocate me, 

I feel the silence, the emptiness turn into a rope around my neck,  and I open the bottle, 

consume my cure entirely, 

trying to find transitory liberation.
The last drop of alcohol mixes with my blood 

my eyes turn heavy with the weight of the unsaid and unexpressed, maybe the high too, 

they close after a long time of being ajar,

and I’m finally relieved. It has come to a stop, for now.
Until next time, fears.

Until next time. -WANDERER // E s c a p e s 

Let me in. 

Tell me about your dreams. 

I want to know the kind of monsters 

that have been haunting the corners of your brain.

Show me the darkest flaw so I can love you more.

I want to know the beasts 

that you have fallen in love with, 

helplessly, while you found no escape.
Tell me about the happiest moments of your life, 

those that are sunshine beyond the clouds, 

those that keep the light, 

while your eyes turn black and your skin pale,

no matter how grey the sky begins to turn, 

those that don’t let you lose the fight.
I want to know you like nobody does, 

Perhaps that is what they say love is, to know.

I want to see what it is, to be beyond your skin.

Baby, don’t hold a wall against me, 

I don’t want to be a wrecking ball, 

I don’t want to destruct your guard, I just want to be let in.
I just want to be let in. -WANDERER // ” Let me in “

Beautiful bondage.

“I’m not a writer. I’m merely in bondage of the magic 

of words and the meaning 

they hold. 

I’m chained and bound to the mesmerising charm, 

of metaphors and rhymes, 

of twisted word-play 

and of simple quotes.

I’m only a victim of obsession 

and I’m only a helpless lover 

of everything that words are, 

the depth, the perspectives, 

and every little thing 

that leaves me in awe.

I’m simply in bondage, 

one that I don’t want to be delivered from. 

I’m a willing slave, I don’t want salvation from this beautiful burden 

of knowing and learning to express 

in a new way, with the same words, everyday. 

So when people ask my why

I don’t write everyday

I simply smile because 

my words are not my own.

They come from experiences.

The experiences I encounter 

in every little thing I do and I tell them this, 

“I only know one thing, that words 

are poetry, and poetry comes 

only from inspiration.

So the expectations of me, 

to write because I’m a writer, 

are unrealistic to me.

I cannot put my mind on paper

unless I have reason to.

Inspiration is the core of creation.”
Nothing else creates art. 

Art is not art, without a muse and so I will go onto the ends of the earth to find my muse 

and I will simply give ink to the musings of my wandering mind, 

until then, until I can,

I will not write 

but I will wait 

for my muse to come to me, 

or for me to find my muse.

-WANDERER // A r t & E x p e c t a t i o n 

Religion and God.

I have seen hypocrisy in places of worship and authenticity in people who have been reprimanded by our so called ‘men of God’. No, I am not an atheist, neither am I against worship and prayer. What I am against is the superficiality religion gives a pure God. I believe religion and God are two extremes, and bringing them together was a complete disaster. 

I think people have begun to depend on everything else, except God. We put our faith in these messengers of God more than we do in him and it is so sad because our faith is only meant for God. I have seen people worship, pray, sacrifice in the name of religion, but the same people have no ability to judge right from wrong. The same people who put God on a pedestal but have no idea how to treat their fellow men
I have seen people blindly follow people, leaving God in some corner and I think that religion in itself has become a God of sorts. I have seen people completely opposite of the word ‘religious’ and still respect God wholly, without a blemish on their conscious. 

I am no one to judge but as a human, I notice what seems to be bullshit and what seems to be true. Of course what ‘seems’ to be, can also be untrue, but to me, 

service and love, so widely preached by these religious men starts at home, starts with people first.
I think the most authentic people are the ones who believe in treating people right, because that is what God taught us, who believe and let believe in the truth,

not the ones who shadow themselves and others with them

-WANDERER // Religion and God 

Mother’s day.

I bought flowers for a lovely lady today. One of the strongest women I know and I wondered if my kids would do the same for me. I wondered if I would be a good parent. 

Mother’s day, one day, for all the mother’s in the world. 

For the ones who do the world for us, and even though gone unnoticed they never stop. “Would I be able to be that selfless?” “Would I raise my children right?” “Would I be able to fight the word for them like my mother does for me?”

Questions like these were all over my mind, as I handed these to the one of the strong women I look up to. 

And In that moment I watched strong eyes melt,

I watched a fortress crumble down for a second and build up again, and I realised it was so easy to make a mother feel loved. 

The smallest gesture could make their day, yet, we don’t take the time to make them realise how much they mean to us.
Why do we need a day, a reason, to tell our mother’s that we love them? Why do we need so much courage to simply show our mother’s that they are in fact, our entire world? 

Why do we shy away to do something so small for the ones who would give up their everything for a smile on our faces.

-WANDERER // Mother’s Day