Disturbia

I wrote this when I had so much emotions pent up because I was so overwhelmed by Tash Sultana  performance on Tiny Desk by NPR. She is so raw and full of expression, I was left in a ball of messed up emotion I could not untangle.

She left there crying
by the interstate
Slow jams and psy-trance playing
It's calling her.

Calling her
to internal
stories yet to be told
It never grows old
She is crying tears of
summer days and wasted spaces
Of memories that can't be erased
It's permanent like
a scarred tattoo
It heals empty.

She's been crying her lungs out
Taking shelter under piers
Away from light
She's been gasping for air like a sick new born
who doesn't even know what breathing feels like.

She's been scrapping words from the ceiling of her mouth
Hard and sharp
They don't calm her down
She can't comprehend her thoughts
She been running down her shadows
Gunning down her stilettos
Screaming out her demons
Playing those scenes over and over again.

She's been okay but no,
this where she cannot stay
She needs a hand to hold
A shoulder to help her
She can't call for help or hope for it because
If you can't even call out then who is to know you needed help, right?

She sees the light of day
covered in clouds of lightning bolts
gaze at the storms that marched ahead
She can't tell night from day
She can't swim at all
She can't breath again.

- Swit Marie
1940H 27th June 2018
Taman Bahagia


Swit Marie is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaid
When words fail, she allows movement and emotion to carry her through
A believer in making dreams come true, s
he would love to collaborate with you
An explorer starting fresh and would only give her best
She stands in the gap and will only call it quits when it's a wrap.

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