Languages, medicines and magicians.

What has music been for you? Let me know in the comment section below! Enjoy reading. Instagram handle: @myspirals


“Music is a safe kind of high.” – Jimi Hendrix

Music is a language, a medicine and a magic trick. Dance to it.

  • Music was his mother-tongue. His tongue fumbled when he spoke English as if it were a foreign language that he hadn’t heard all his life, but when he was alone, he hummed a tune and did not miss a single note. He stuttered and shied away from conversations with strangers, but sang songs with a broad grin around camp fires. When he wasn’t feeling alright, he would shut out completely and listen to music as he thought and thought about what had gone wrong, but you could find small clues hidden in his playlist to make him feel alright.
  • Her soul had been crushed into absolute pieces and her heart had cuts all over. There was a constant ache, that seemed to run like blood in her veins and pillows couldn’t drown it out. But earplugs seemed to drive the pain away completely, or at least numb it. As the lyrics stopped her mind from wandering about, and the music brought her a much-needed gift, she could smile without wanting to scream. Music was her band-aid and no one could rip it off her scars. For her, music was like a steady dose of pain-killers and peace. Music was the only pillow that could drown out the screams, and it was the only shoulder she could cry on.
  • He was broke and broken, but managed to get into the bar right across the street. He needed to feel lost and alive, and so he stepped onto the dance-floor swarmed with broken hearts and night-outs. The music was loud enough to make him disappear as his feet moved about in an unsteady pace. The broken pieces of his heart rattled against each other, but no one could hear it. The pieces slammed against each other and broke into smaller pieces until all that was left was dust. He smiled as he took the dust and blew on it, as if it were fairy-dust and his wishes were going to come true.

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Travel bird.

Instagram handle: @myspirals


Go to places,
Find mountains that remind you of people,
And seas that make you forget everything.
Discover old streets that whisper stories,
and broken buildings that look like broken bones.
Sleep out the day, learn to love the dark.
Sleep out the night, learn to love the light.
Close your eyes and feel the wind,
and rustle like a tree under the burning sun.
Giggle under the stars,
and among the ruins,
Just like the people who lived there
A long time ago,
probably did.
Paint your passports,
and cut in your bucket list,
instead of your wrists.


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Whisky Words: Project (14)

This is Submission FOURTEEN of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner will be announced on 1st of April.


Revenge I seek.

Crimson lips fade to pale,
Confessions of Love – a sting in the tale,
It was meant for me, I know it’s so,
Another path, you must go,
A heart of ice calls your name,
No choice you have, to play the game,
Stiff and rigid you play along,
Conform and dance to her merry song,
I watch her eyes, her twitching lips,
Her twisted lies and sarcastic quips,
I stand and stare in disbelief,
Holding on, in silence, to my grief,
Off you go to the maidens lair,
I know in your heart, I must be there?
Can’t you run and escape her grasp,
If only you had a looking glass,
See the story how it should be,
Then you’d know, you should be with me,
What’s her power, has she cast a spell?
Is there a  secret, never to tell?
life without you seems so bleak,
Just walk away, why so weak?
Do not laugh and frolic with her,
Remember me, I called you sir?
You promised me love and fairy tale,
My Prince, my knight, but now you bail,
You said you loved me, I believed it was true,
Now I’m confused cos she is with you,
You’ve abandoned me now but what is the cost,
I’m angry inside, broken and lost,
I want to scream, and call you out,
Please sir please sir I want to shout,
I feel like a child, vulnerable and small,
You’ve got nothing to say, nothing at all?
I’ve been discarded left here on the path,
Let me tell you sir, you will feel my wrath,
You’ve used and abused me, I know I am right,
Hang your head in shame Don’ t put up a fight,
You said that you loved me, I thought it was so,
Silly girl,  stupid, now I must go,
I’ll hatch a plan , revenge will be sweet,
I won’t be so nice, the next time we meet!
My heart,  it is broken,  you can’t comprehend,
The damage you’ve caused  – you were never my friend.

 – Carrie sherbourne (blog)

Whisky Words: Project (2)

This is Submission TWO of The Whiskey Words. The Whiskey Words is a writing project (and a giveaway), and if you’d like to participate, here are the rules.


The Face of Evil

I have personally seen the face of Evil
Only once in my life.

Only once in my life has it
Been so bold as to show me its face.
Usually it works very hard to hide
To make sure people are so focused on their work
That they can’t see it.
But I have seen the face of evil.

I was seven.
I lay sprawled out at the bottom
Of a long flight of stairs
Where I had
“fallen.”

There was absolute silence
Absolute stillness

I’m not sure that either has been broken yet.

Finally I looked up at the boy
At the top of the stairs
And all I could see was the face of evil
Etched on the backs of the heads
Of my classmates walking away.

– Seiji Yamashita (blog)

A necklace of hope.

Ghosts do exist.

  1. The first time she was haunted by one was when she fell in love. When he kissed her for the first time, her hands found his hair, but her thoughts could not find a reason to believe that he would stay. She opened her eyes mid-way, and looked at him and all she saw was her fear. She felt sweat on her forehead, as she pulled away. Her eyes darted here and there as she saw flashes of the last time someone had promised to stay and hadn’t. The ghost of empty promises and broken hearts left her tongue dry. He did not seem bothered at all.
  2. He believed in ghosts because they just wouldn’t let him be. Every time he decided to move on, and build himself a life he wanted, the ghost of the expectations of his parents tied his hand behind him, and slowly choked his will to believe. His wrist had scars of him trying to untie himself, but they were mere reminders of his shattered hopes and dreams.
  3. She just could not forget what he had done to her. Every time she went on a new date, tried to move on, he popped up in her thoughts. She loved him. She still did. How can she move on knowing that he was what she wanted. She wanted expensive champagne, and cheap nail polish and warm blankets with him by her side. The ghost of her past haunted her on every new date, and she just could not let it go.
  4. He did not want to hurt someone. He feared power and authority for the sole purpose of staying unable to inflict pain. He did not trust himself enough to believe that if given the chance, he wouldn’t choose himself over others. He knew that choosing oneself is how you progress, but not at the cost of someone he loved? The ghost of his darkness made him fear himself.
  5. She had lost her friend. Every time she sat on her terrace and gazed at the city that was unaware of her loss, she saw shadows of her friend sitting beside her, a cigarette embraced in her fingers, a carefree smile reaching her eyes. One that is lost can never really be lost again. And so she held onto the ghost of her friend, a shimmering and fading image that made her believe that maybe it would all be okay.
  6. There was no way out of this. He sat in the corner of his room, tears running down his red cheeks. Everything seemed to collapse on him, and he just could not pick himself up again. He wanted to believe, he tried to, but there was nothing to believe in. No hope bloomed in the garden inside his chest. The ghost of hopelessness held a knife to his wrist, and as the blood trickled down, he felt free.

We are all haunted in some way or another. We just have to hold on and believe in ourselves. Ghosts do exist, but just in our heads.

Hope.

“I hope to arrive at my death, late, in love, and a little drunk.” – Atticus


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