No divide

That which I covet and that which I detest are much in the same,
There is no real divide,
What today tastes orgasmic in its birthing,
Tomorrow seems dull and offensive in its normalcy,
The longevity of my episodes of sentiment, are infinitesimal compared to the powerful emotional episodes of my younger self,
Oh, I was savage in my hunt for the most historic sticky melt down,
So nimble in my reach for the giddy heights of ecstatic glee,

Now the vulgarian sitting next to me on the train hardly stirs my waters, as he spews his venom,
Once I would have bled, boiled and erupted with his evasive intrusion,
Today I librate in a morbid fascination, watching, wearing my best face of ‘whateva’,
The dark chocolate cake, the salted popcorn all still promisingly aromatic but falling short of its previous emotional bliss inducing state.

I read the most beautiful prose and when I get to the crescendo of the recital, I close the book…
I watch the most spectacular cinematic chronicles and when I get to points of immense emotional impact, click, I switch it off…
The simulated emotion sits uncomfortably on me like an old coat too tatty to wear out, but comfortable in its familiarity,
I’m no longer experiencing the calibrated highs and lows, I’m not feeding on the universal smorgasbord of oscillating emotions,
Authentic emotion seems out of reach often, other than within my own inner realms,
I’m annoyed, I’m living more and more in the grey, the world outside less appealing,
The mirage of reality fraying at the edges, the hologram waning,
The space between stop and go is insurmountable, I’m always at a crawl…

Awakening is an instinctual discerner,
Who must consciously choose when to engage, automation has ceased,
I now either fully partake in the expression unfolding even relishing the hellish drama, or I disengage into the solace of silence,
The silence that finds me trudging through the quagmire of my inner world more naturally, more often,
Navigating the darkest recessed of the forgotten depths of Me,
I am loving and hating the evolution of self, doing less, allowing more,
Often in a faux ceremony, all my disowned, dishevelled and distorted parts of my self being given a voice, even if just for an uneasy moment,
I frequently find I’m travelling through psychedelic worm holes and experiencing deja vu,
And the discomfort of emotional purging dims with each sweet immersion,

All the while navigating the busy- ness of my everyday life,
Living a life within a life,
Exploring the world within this World,
Within the infinite Me and You!

I feel fuller, there’s more space behind the personality, I’ve found a gateway to worlds…:

It’s a lonely journey… this separation from self, this weaning from reality…
The gut rendering dissection, the allowing of the taboo, it’s the truth telling, the self-exploration, the passion, the rawness and complete exposure of self!

But there is no other way… It’s the ickiness of being human, the awkwardness of self-discovery and mostly for me it’s about being bone chillingly honest with the one person that counts YOU!






Lauren-Lee

I am a daughter, sister, mother, wife, friend and more and less. I am a manic reader of various genres, and I love to express myself through writing. Sometimes it feels like I am just the interpreter of our collective emotions. Putting pen to paper to share when the inspiration strikes... I marvel at the freedom and surrender when allowing the rhythmic candescent glow of creative release. I constantly reinforced that life is all about the small stuff, the minutes in-between the focal points of our day, the special people that prompt you to live with intent, laugh with gusto, appreciate small gestures, rejoice in everyone’s individuality and find the wonder in every aspect of being part of the human race.

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