One More Time

I really hate goodbyes in every context of it, never good at it and it feels like an unfulfilled driveby. Part of processing is accepting, allowing myself to feel which I couldn't do because I didn't want to face the realities of things and it was too dark to sit in my mind-pit. I let my thoughts run and tried not to self-censor when I wrote this.

Tonight thunders with no sight of lightning

Laying on the floor curled up in fetal form

Skin grazing the chaffing carpet with every breath

Fingers grasping empty air pockets

Coddling a creeping sense of abandonment

Weightlessness grows heavy

Sinking into a hard cement floor

Knees tucking closer to the heart

Coldness circulates the body from the inside out.


Dear diary,

I am not good with goodbyes.


Last words you heard were:

"Is this vein sufficient for your entry and what is this cocktail?"


Absent in anaesthesia

Eyes blindfolded by white noise

Everything was quietly ringing in the background.


Swiftly, the doors open

He escapes the rushing usher for a fragment of a moment

He whispers to my heart,

"I understand and you don't need to see me go."

He left quietly

Knowing he won't see the light of day

Without struggle, without pride, without pain

The doors slammed shut behind him.


7 weeks to 7 days of unsettling paralysis

Unable to move any lingering thoughts

Intention to awake from this sedation

in a fallible state persisting in limbo

Lucid motivations backed up by leaking faucets of weakness

Clotted pipes creak with every attempt to move

Fingertips feel like they've been soaked in numbing cream.


Lost for words

My silence in a settlement

Prior, present and post

Unjustifiable letters that will not be written

No suicide note left behind

No will prepared for the future

Hope cannot be uttered out of respect

Best wishes sent out to no receiver

I did not permit myself to deliver this parcel.


I question the meaning of life

To which my stance feels like bare feet constantly slipping on ice

The only way to stand is to cut it with blades

Allow slits to be made

Shredded shards chipped away with every step


Losing segments in every raise

Melting memories as I choose to survive

We see the trails but don't look back at the damage left behind

Focus on moving forward and taking the next stride because I have gained momentum.


The air is cold, body is clammy and heart is empty

Moral injury brings no rest to the soul

Mind finds itself wandering through hallow straw tubes

Tunnel vision that is out of focus

Spirit cleansed by steel separating soul ties

The unbreakable bond of human connection

Severed by rationale and practicality


No footing in the soils ploughed by rationality

Mudslides between each toe leaving residue layered with remnants of history

Rain washes away the dried crusts but not 

the stains of iron rust

Rudimentary reminders that imprints in the earth carry lasting consequences

Footprints trail a destination as well as an origin

Every step is an intended choice made with deliberation

Accounted weight and premeditated direction.


Empathy has moved out to a different state

From relating transitioning to foreign

A language that speaks the same but is heard differently

An unspoken word replaced by actions sends messages far clearer like a signal flare

Consequential alarms ring in the ears of the availed.


Falling in a safety net, still falling and falling.


- Swit Marie

16:14H 30th September 2020

Sceni Co-working and Events




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, she 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.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Swinging From Memory To Memory

Of recent adventures and endeavours I realised how much I liked to swing . This is how I wing it at swing. Hope this is as much fun reading as it was writing. When I was young, as memory recalls, My mum would take us out to play, We sometimes 'hang gai-gai' at nearby malls, Or go to McDonald's to eat during the day. On the weekdays when we would get the chance, To get some fresh air at the playground, Every kid would have one thing in their glance, We would race for the swings or run around. As I grew older I had a few favourite animations, One was from Jane Goodall's favourite book that became many adaptations, Tarzan swinging from vine to vine was all it took, For us nature lovers to love apes and get hooked. And then came along the 'All American Rejects' Swing, swing, swing from the tangles of my heart, Listening to that song had relieving effects, Cause any rejected crush made me fall apart. I remember there were days that w
Read more

This Is Malaysia

Recently Swit Marie has gotten more active on the HitRECord platform and started working on new material and collaborations. This was definitely the highlight of 2020 for her years of writing in the past few years. Reaching an international audience and being part of a community of creatives through this project involving over 180 contributors. The piece that was submitted for the This Is Malaysia video by HitRECord was derived from Dragon Tail . This Is Malaysia  final script remixed by Matt Conley from 8 contributors. This I s Malaysia video. The morning sun greets the mist of the hills, Joy seeps into my lungs as the morning dew kisses my cheeks, Peppercorn scents sing melodies of what the day could be. Waking up to the clouds embracing the mountain ranges This is where my heart belongs My fingertips touch the sparkle in the air made by the sun rays that love the mist My shoulders rise with the lightness of the sunrise. A symphony of swallows sifting through the clouds, Murmuratio
Read more

2020

I  wrote this on the flight travelling back to Malaysia in 2020, leaving Australia after what would have been the last time I see the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I was observing the people around me, it was an 8 hour flight with a lot of turbulence, who would have know that 2020 would be that kind of year as well. It is funny how things tell you of what will come in its own little ways. Looking around absorbing the sensations to accommodate my body to my surroundings, Infusing my skin with lavender and chamomile to soothe the tension in my muscular fibres.   On my left, a rubik cube frantically trying to solve itself It is but a process of working out possible solutions and running through know standard operational patterns Constant rotations occur and in mere minutes the puzzle is solved.   On my right, two European centurians ecstatic to journey to a new land Partners in life and adventurers ready for new horizons just above the equator They see spirits an
Read more