Great Reads by Suki

  I know madness because I know what it is to be loved by you, To desire you violently to the point of breaking myself on your shadow, Everything I dare to spell out in poetry is about you, And even when it's not about you it's an attempt to run from you, My heart aches in the spaces that I have left empty for you, Yet you still exsist somewhere away from me, unaware of my hunger. For you, I will stretch out my hands in the darkness, And they will still reach out for the tips of your fingers. You watch me ache and you still stir things inside me that you dare not name. Take any form and I will still recognize your soul, Stake my chest and I will still crawl out of my grave to seek you out, Run away worlds apart and memories of us will still visit me in the dark. I am unable to stop saying your name even as it slips in between my lips like a curse, So what do I do with this heart of mine, When it has known so much, but refuses to move a beat past you? How do I convince it that y...

Today someone said to me, "When God wants to punish you, He makes you a mad man." Words that are way too familiar, but this time round, it felt like he held a mirror right before me. I pushed this line at the back of my mind months ago. Too afraid to confront my own truth, my madness. Maybe too quick to dismiss it as careless placement of words. My existence has been particularly heavy of me. A weight that has been getting heavier by the day. It has settled so well in me, even rested in my bones. It shows up quietly, in the empty gaze of my eyes, or emptiness of my face. It chokes me when I'm speaking, and hold my lungs hostage when I try to breath. My madness is not frantic. It's polite; even civil. It demands order. It's me nodding at people, the "I'm fines", finishing up my tasks on time, drawing up to-do-lists, making a meal-plan, submitting to a feigned performance. My madness is this stupid functionality that has sucked the soul out of me.  I u...