LA, LA Land

Sticky, hot, wet feelings of fame and illusion hang heavy in the air. There is something deceptively titillating about this place. Everything shines even through the smog and grim cover it with a protective film. Maybe there is a need for things to be hidden under layers of dust. This is what protects the original dream of shinning lights and real life fantasies.

I remember looking down and seeing the city of LA burning like a bed of embers in a black void. The lights of houses, the lights of dreams, the lights of misery, the lights of mystery… they were sparks in my dead of night, sending chills through my body and soul, they made my heart stop a little.

Coming here has been a pilgrimage. Maybe even a coming of age. I always find myself in new places. I am a nomad. There is always a new experience to be had; a new place to explore. I am uncovering facets of who I am. I am finding pieces of my destiny. This place is part of my destiny.

Being here has ignited a candle that has waited patiently to burn within me. I am taking the hand of destiny and allowing myself to float away. Things will come to me. Things come to those who are willing to be brave. I am praying to be brave enough to see what’s next. I am praying to be strong enough to do what I am called to do.

The time is almost up and I will return home, I know this place will be another home in my heart….though I know gypsies never really have homes, only places that make them feel safe and alive for awhile. I’m in no rush to be anywhere. But I am anxious to get back to the things that really feed my inner being.

It’s clear to me now how much we know about our destiny if we only stand still for a few moments, silence our fears and listen to the voice within. I have known things my whole life, maybe not in their entirety, but at least as a little seed, a feeling. Now that I trust these morsel of truth, doors are opening.

I came here to be a story-teller. I’m not always sure how I will tell the story, or whose story it will be… but I trust in the wind and where it takes me. So I am standing here on the edge of something greater than we can ever know, I am spreading my arms and letting myself fall into unseen wings.

Creative Writing: Bodies

I cannot bare it any longer. I have to tell him. I have to let him know. The pain of each night, bodies touching but hearts still left lonely. Nothing will ever be said, no spoken words and lack of emotion. I could look you in the eye, bare my soul, but you would turn me away again; cold shoulder, avoiding all the pain.

You may not say what you feel, but I know there is something. Dark and looming, eating at your soul. It’s consuming the joy and happiness in your eyes. If you would only come out and say what it is. If you would let the pain have words and fly again. There is no reason to keep emotions locked away.

I watch you daily burning and writhing. You could stop it you know. You could be free. I’m not asking for fantasies, I am just asking for truth. You can’t even entertain fantasies anymore. There is only silence, unbearable, dark silence. If it’s left unsaid then I guess it doesn’t exist.

Why do we have to question motives and feelings? Is there even any feeling left? Bodies. I believe we are just bodies looking for homes. We wonder where the soul has gone. Absorbed into the abyss of our loneliness and longing. I know that you’ve pulled me under.

Please stop making me a part of your danger, your slow descent into hell. There is no coming back if you go there. Now you just linger in limbo. But if you go father you will never come back and I have grown to weak to find you. I can barely find you in my sateen sheets.

There are prayers everyday. But they are never heard. I have been searching for a savoir in your eyes and now I realize I am the one who can save me. I am the only one left sane enough to walk away. Though my eyes have grown dark as well. Fighting. We are fighting another day. What are we fighting for?

I sit here pulling dark smoke into my lounges. Pouring my soul out in words on blank pages. I play for you everyday, but you never hear me. You can’t even hear my words; let alone what lives behind them. I can play all my songs for you, but you will never change.

Even if I captivate you for a few seconds I can feel your attention slip away. Another shinny thing catches your eye, and there’s no way I can compare to that danger. I’m not one of them. I’ve never been. Not beautiful enough or damaged. You like them a little rough around the edges. You like them unwell. Maybe you are breaking me down until I am incoherent enough for you to love.

She used to sing to me, reminding me that it would be okay. But I no longer listen to her sad songs because I’ve become part of her choir. We are poets and priest of nothing…. That’s what Stevie said. But maybe someday we will be legends.

Stand up again, self-righteous. Stand up and look at me like an equal. Don’t coddle me. Don’t protect me. Unless you can damage your own reflection, Narcissus, there is nothing you can do here. You cannot save me.

Fighting shadows, never realizing you cast the monsters in your path. You cast monsters in my dreams, to the point that waking is nothing but a nightmare. I will never be able to settle into feeling again. I will never be able to ride quite the same. I lost something out there.

You may call me crazy. I am insane. I am an Echo. I can only repeat this pain. Again and again… giving back what you’ve given. I am your mocking bird. Your caged bird. Here I am, ready to sing. Listen to me. Can you please, listen to me?

Another night sitting across from you, trying to explain myself. I am foolish, stumbling over words and explanations. I can be irrational. But you try to rationalize your own insanity. You use pain as excuses, but do you think that really justifies your torment. You cannot be a heartbreaker just because someone made you that way.

Maybe we’ll make it out. Maybe I’ll be saved. Maybe you’ll finally go away. You want to find paradise in all the wrong places. You can lay down with your doll again, but in the morning the sunlight will show the cracks. Is that what you want? To find your-self in something that is breaking.

It makes sense now. You want what you can’t have. So you chase after the opposite thing. You look for yourself in broken reflections because you think if they are more broken than you, then no one will ever see the pain, the flaws, all the things you hate.

Stop! Just stop searching and be. For once in your life be here now, be here with yourself. Be here with me. You can’t do it though. You never could and you never will. You’re a thrill seeker. It’s all for the show. When the lights go down, the darkness comes out and you will die again.

If only I could be that broken reflection, more beautiful than all the treasure in the world, but you can’t see it. I’ve pointed it out, I’ve written about it. I’ve tried to make you feel something more.  That’s the trouble really. You want the last word. We are too strong for each other, yet too far gone to make it okay. I’ll be here when you come home. Just another Echo.

© Shaheen Miro