Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

exit is tense(2.7.17)

I have seen a blue flame burning

in the depths of my deception,

eyes that have seen lies outstretched

on the void expression of an eternal reflection.


A heart that has lived infinite realities,

forever fading and falling into time,

passing and wavering, flickering–suspended

above the woebegone wails of living.


I have felt the riveting and gruelling agony of knowing

for nothing leaves deeper lacerations than breathing,

question marks that hover and hobble in my labyrinth,

this jarring existence of a suppressed spirit.


I am far from myself, detached in all that I chant,

lips that cannot speak the truths engraved on tainted thoughts.

Silent in all the I scream, there is sorrow to joy,

there is flatness to the layered buzzing of conversation.



Nothing I say truly frees the caged monsters within me

but all I utter has unlocked, untangled the wires crossed,

the muddled notions of being nothing more than flesh.

I am merely the glassy, tranquil enchantress luring myself below.


Shame and regret have bloodied and stained my fingertips.

Scared sacred notions of a life where I did not fall

into the suctioning temptation of floating, unattached

to this earthly and brutal kiss of thinking.


I have felt the separation of body and spirit,

transcended the existence of existence,

washed myself in the baptismal basin of compassion

to swallow the bitterness of the great divide.


And through my burden of their saturated suffering,

I have died a million deaths.

I have severed the umbilical cord

to feed from the life-giving poison of this reality.


Sealed to a fate that I do not believe,

I fight against what I know does not exist.

We are but worlds that orbit each other.

Gravity has brought my world to the tendrils of others.


Nothing happens without purpose, without an end,

without aim — less — ly;

Think not that when planets collide

there is not something for us all to learn.


To be,


I have but glimpsed snatches of the mist,

distilled hallucinations, phantoms that stay but an instant,

that stretches the history of all that was.

I am but a hesitant mirage, here to be here.


There are but moments of moments,

fractions of a greater divide from myself;

where I have burst forth from loneliness

to seek the ocean of unity with humanity.



I exist only in paradox,

only in the tension of this tense.

Present is but a vibration reverberating from past

and future exits from what is…


continual, the tunnel, the funnel of time,

spirals, winds down from our maze:




We awake

as we sleep,

to what is

the deepest point

from what never was.

















-Eva M.M.

This is a longer and very stylistically different poem. It clearly is not meant to be very straightforward but layered with lots of things to make you think. Let me know your thoughts on it.And since I could not decide on just one main photo I shared two others throughout and would like you to let me know which you think fits it the best. I think the one I chose for the main photo is my favorite but I still am really indecisive.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”









I am the author of and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

2 thoughts on “exit is tense(2.7.17)

    1. I never plan my poem’s. I just write them out usually within ten minutes. What I do change afterwords is sometimes the placement of certain words and spaces, only slightly and other times I do things like choose a font, a picture to go with it or words to bold or italicized, but usually while writing I just write them the way the fall and that is how they stay with no editing.

      Liked by 1 person

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