ShefaliV

BLINK

by Shefali Vasudevan

THOUGHT

REGRET

“Its heart beats on in a different rythm. A pulse in the thumb.

A human heart in a hand. Keeps the hand alive, but just barely.�

A human heart in a hand.

Isolation vs.

Solitude

I have

g n i h t y r e ev

I

WANT.

“My playhouse is underneath Our house, & I hear people Telling each other secrets.�

- Komunyakaa

Now they

sit below

us ÁKLXMRK

over

FVSOIR KPEWW

“Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings always darker, emptier, simpler.”

- Nietzche

My tears

are

on

the

Inside

“I believe that almost all our sadnesses are moments RI WHQVLRQ WKDW ZH À QG paralyzing because we no longer hear our surprised feelings living.”

-Rilke

I am Nowhere

Anticipation: “In drawing, the trace always proceeds in the night: it always escapes \PM ÅMTL WN ^Q[QWV º +IT^QVW

one

is

you

a

one

is

trace

Fleas interest me so much that I let them bite me for hours.

They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit, machines that admit of no appeal.

They do not bite to eat, they bite only to jump;; they are the dancers of the celestial sphere, delicate acrobats in the softest and most profound circus;; let them gallop on my skin, divulge their emotions, amuse themselves with my blood, but someone should introduce them to me.

I want to know them closely, I want to know what to rely on.

-­Neruda

My whole body

is glowing

Sublime. “The beautiful, according to Edmund Burke, is what is well-formed and aesthetically pleasing, whereas the Sublime is what has the power to compel and destroy us.�

solitude

Amplified I wish I could change the past. Wheels are like clocks. Circular, round, endlessly spinning. “Please let me get off this amusement park ride.�

I sit on a porch with silver lining. My friends Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty all sit with me as we drink tea out of silver lined cups.

I want to feel something. Alive. Wind on my cheeks. Fire on my eyes. Explosive.

A flaming purple giraffe jumping off the Empire State Building.

And now all I can see are the colors splashing down upon me in torrents.

Drowning me in everything wonderful.

Through the looking glass is a scene that I wish to be a part of.

Through the window I can not see what is inside of it, but I long to know.

My heart beats slowly. The beat of a drum. The tick of a clock. Rythmatic.

Sequencial. Neverending.

Neverbeginning. At a constant pace.

It never skips a beat. It is one in the midst of a million.

All beating together.

The rythm is...beautiful.

...TUESDAY?