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branches snap suddenly. the air is thick, tarred with the impatience grumble of someone unable to leave, unable to sit still. flesh. goosebumps. roots ripped with violence, feral energy, an upsurge leaving the human body, becoming animal, remembering the animal in you, running, running, running, trying to reach the woods for safety, a place to survive. the branches under your bare feet snap, a sound that echoes through the forestal breath kept long at night, an exercise of caution counteracting the bestial bruises you carry underneath your old skin. violence unforgivable.
no space will be safe anymore. no matter where you go, no matter where you look, the air is still unbreathable. suffocating, the space shrinks. even on the other side of the world, where you went to find yourself. you come with no answers. there are no words. only silence.
the gap between wanting to know and being is wide open like a womb giving perpetual birth. mold between the creeks of dawn. uncomfortable laughter of humans. feeding on other people’s secrets, you swell, a belly full of scandals kept safe. you are safe for others but you are not safe for yourself. skeletal memory keeps you awake at night.
the wildest nights were not fairytales. the abyss keeps widening, and you keep falling into the void that is eating you alive. right under your solar plexus. breathwork fails. an oxygen mask for a lifetime would make more sense. born with your mother clenching jaws, it stays in your cellular memory. the gray haired great grandmother’s vision appearing as you run towards the woods. laid bare, a bosom full of withering flowers, naked corpse, you keep digging a hole for yourself.
no filters, you lack a good performance, nothing popular emerges. silent. mute little lamb turning wolf. loud shriek, pregnant with desire, locked in a room of melacholia. gnawing hunger turning hunting, cemented feet, claws of uncontrollable menace, no map, no trace, the howling sound is heard only at night.
open windows, you are now both inside and out. hearing attentively the sound that captivates you, incomprehensible roar whose origin, the void, is central and also marginal. the source of existential pain is undetectable from an X-ray. slaughterhouse panacea of chaotic healing power, awakening. intravenous upcoming disaster. life unpredictable.
branches snap suddenly. the air is thick.
wolves come at night. you run, this time, not from, but towards. intrepid soul of the dark. virginal menace turning sanctuary undone, fiercely independent, showing your teeth at the pale blue moon, relying on the unknown, primal nature that you are, untamed instincts forming a prism of unearthed roots coming out, swirls of freedom felt in the gut of the universe as you run and run and run with the knowledge that nothing can stop you from your true wildness, upper jaw reaching the sky, lower jaw touching soil, flames burning through the eyes of the forestal stir, abysmal depth this time, defied, redefined.
© Nimila, Studio Shyama
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emotional surveillance
legibility:
your identity must be consumable.
your grief must be extractable.
Emotional surveillance.
genetic disorder - i am gasping for air
lover of adventures on
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arrest the impulse (breathing)
“The gap between wanting to know and being is wide open like a womb giving perpetual birth.” Yes, Nimila.
This left me breathless because it perfectly captures how the wildest, most terrifying parts of our pain are often the exact things that finally make us untamable and unstoppable ✨