The common room is a place where we hope to empathize over struggles like happiness-doubting and purpose-seeking, as well as other ideas, like trying to be a functional & fulfilled human.
Here you will find poems, drawings, short stories, voice recordings, music, and various other tidbits of our artistic fiddlings.
If you resonate with at least one post, then our mission is accomplished.
Thank you and take care!
/michal and cristina
My unripe self-love is overcome by the flaws I find, I search for.
I long to soothe, to sing myself to sleep, but 1AM stretches out
Longer than a day.
The greenness of the relationship I have with myself
Is ever so slightly warming up.
A colour of yellow or orange or maybe even a tint of red.
I try to hold all the pieces together until they are ready;
Until the glue between the cracks is just a little bit harder,
Just a little bit stronger.
You take out my hair-dryer from the bottom drawer
And offer to help harden the glue;
Ripen my self-love.
I hear the clock, I hear your breath.
I hear the birds, unbound by time.
The cars go by on the one-way street
All headed to the same place (somewhere far).
I hear my thoughts.
I hear the wind.
(I wonder if they are the same).
I wish to breathe, to remain still,
But the future whispers impatiently my name.
One of my organs hurts
Me from the inside.
I try to move, to show you where,
But you tell me to see a doctor.
I hold the pills
That He prescribed
Ever mighty, firm.
I take them slow, I take with food.
I wait for the pain to soften.
I sit, no pills.
Today I will breathe.
I approach the pain anew.
I sit, no pills.
I am by a big window
Staring at the sky.
I see light but no sun,
I feel light but no warmth.
I hear a hum.
I feel the rough carpet beneath me
Threatening to burn my skin if I move too fast.
I stay still,
A sun. Any will do.
The universe is vast and uncaring.
I could be elsewhere,
I could be here.
I am forever somewhere,
Or nowhere at all.
To love the entirety of you
In its unified fusion
(To me, to yourself?)
Your outlined shadow full
I care not
About the holes in you.
I care only
For the whole of you.
To love each part of you
Even those unknown
(To me, to you?)
Their outlined shadows fill your soul
I fear not
To know you.
Not to know you.
I look at you and notice
The cells we’ve made
That contain us
Alone. I look at my hands
And wonder if they’re strong enough
To break my cell
And everyone else’s too.
A hand that prides itself on softness.
When I close my eyes,
The cell remains.
When I breathe for myself,
The cell dissolves.
Let me catch my breath for a moment.
Let me feel that I am temporary.
If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves.
– Pablo Neruda
We might be found, relievingly, in the silent moments between running thoughts. I am learning to notice those moments.
Like the melted wax on a menorah by the sixth night of Hanukah
I reheat to remelt
Actively letting go
Of your buildup.
He looked a little dead inside
With his eyes glazed, forward
For himself. I found
Myself tilting my head as I looked
At him looking
At the air between us.