“This Bitter Sweet Earth”

There is a school of thought that survival is the most powerful motivation to live

Vitality and health and youthfulness are rooted in this desire to survive

Somewhere deeply rooted into our minds as humans is the drive to live

But I wonder how this can be true

If there are so many of us that self destruct

So many of us choose to die

By suicide, by vice, by giving up the fight.

I don’t think we love for mere survival

The idea of humans being so selfish that a simple innate action as loving someone for survival

Is asinine to me

Merely surviving in this life is not appealing to me

Living is so much more than just surviving.

I need to feel freedom and liberation from all my demons.

I need to be able to allow my soul to feel all the shapes music creates in the air.

I need to be able to hold and breath in my children.

I need my lover to not flinch when they see me as I am.

I need the validation that my voice is heard by somebody, anybody

So I can feel like I’m real

So I can loosen the grip of disillusion that this life might not be real

So I can know my perception of my surrounding is not merely a concoction of my imagination

That this brain of mine has not been plagued completely with insanity

That I’m now living in reality that blinds me from the truth of where I really am.

If living is chalked up to be just simply surviving

Then I’d rather not live

My motivation to live is rooted in something even stronger than survival.

I choose to live because experiencing love is worth my heart to continue beating.

Without it, it is not a worthy endeavour for me to survive such an empty life.

© AyalaRain

You’re the Best Part of My Day

Life punches me in the face

Almost every single day.

When the morning starts

And the sun comes up,

My optimism often is in vain.

By the time the sun sets

And the moon arises high,

I’m spent, I’m done,

All my energy has dried,

But then from my phone

There is a buzz.

Whenever I get to talk to you,

Whenever you share your time,

My smile returns

And I feel like life

Isn’t so awful after all.

Thanks for giving me enough peace

So I can at least soundly sleep

And recharge for another

More than likely

Shitty day.

© AyalaRain

Missing You

I miss taking a walk with you while casually glancing at the clouds,

Holding your hand in mine, never minding the frowns.

I miss how you would kiss my forehead randomly, whenever I had gloomy days;

How you’d hold me close during a nap, so I could feel secure that you’d never go away.

I’m miss how all of me would smell like you, how comforting it would be to cling to something tangible

As evidence that all your loving, your existence, is all really real.

I miss catching you smile so big and bright, that genuine happiness emitting,

Even for a second, I try to imprint in my mind the image to not fade, of your light shining.

I miss the sound of your voice, reverberating in my ears,

The sound so musical in your tone making my soul feel bare.

I miss your energy, your vibrations, how in a moment you can disarm me;

How your patience and all that you endured for me, taught you how to calm me.

I miss you being my peace, and how you lived out to be my hero;

How you taught me what love really was, and encouraged me to open the door

To learn how to love myself and see my own value and worth;

I miss how you believed in me so much that I started to believe in myself.

I miss when you’d listen to me, and when you would trust me with your heart,

I mourn for how long it’s been, since that passion expired, and I was the one left with a broken heart.

I mourn because I envision my future with the greatest versions of ourselves

Still striving and encouraging each other to get better, better together, only needing each other for help.

I miss you being my best friend, in every capacity a best friend should be,

I miss being your everything, and I wish I could have been naturally everything you want and need.


There is Medicine within Music

It’s almost like I was conditioned to hold in emotion

To an extreme that even when I need to cry and scream

I can’t.

That all the pent up rage and sorrow and despair

Is muted externally

It rages completely and entirely within.

But sometimes when the right set of chord progressions

Trickles along into my line of hearing

It unlocks that impentratable door to crack.

Just like a wound sometimes has to worsen before it gets better

A song can unwind that tightly wounded stubborn grip

I have to hold everything in

And rips away the line of defenses I rely on

To keep myself composed.

Music let’s me feel okay to feel

Because the music is also emoting

Inviting me to let go

Even just for a couple minutes.

Music is the friend that wraps it’s notes all around me

Embracing my being while I acknowledge my heart freely hurting

Music keeps my soul warm while I sob uncontrollably

About all the things that have happened

Where I’m still needing healing.

Music encourages me to just be

To feel, to heal, to reflect, to reconcile, and to dream.

Music makes me feel like I can…

© AyalaRain


I crave to feel your warmth against my skin

As the silence of the dark fills the room

No need for talking because you’ve let me in

Enough to know what thoughts you cycle through

My body perfectly fitting against the shape of yours

Feeling my favorite parts of you pulsing strong and low

You face nuzzled into my décolletage

Hands move to places that have been neglected gently and slow

Feeling your supple lips against my neck

Impulsively, release an appreciative sound

The gentle, subtle movements

Grows into an intentionally rougher round

Of affection, still pure and fulfilling,

But with the added dose of letting go

I enjoy both the sweetness and savory moments you gift me

Always making it to where I can never say “no”.



With all the logic and knowledge I cling to

As if it were my life saving flotation device

Devices to give me that one last chance to maintain sanity

To maintain this demeanor that serves me well

So well that I haven’t felt much of anything

I haven’t emoted nor cried much

I’ve just accepted and do what I can to keep hope

Hope for progression.

I am numb.

I am alone.

Everyday I feel cold.

Inside and outside of every fiber of my being is encompassed in this chill

Even when it’s sticky and warm outside

Even when the sun hits me directly through the windows

Windows that overlook the city and interstates of people living

Living…am I living?

Logic, knowledge, rational

These are the devices I have to try and remain well

I have to make this difference

There’s no room for error, I cannot fail

Because if I fail in what I’m doing, it will cost him his life

And he dies, if the progression reverts backwards

The rest of my life, all alone, on me alone will carry

The guilt of not doing enough,

Not being being smart enough,

Not being successful enough,

Not being resourceful enough,

Not sacrificing enough,

Not being enough to help and save his life.

If I fail, the last memories of him will just be of rigidness.

If I fail, that strain of being the black sheep will forever stain.

His rigid posture reflects the inside of my being.

I can’t relax, I can’t let go.

I’ve been holding my breath this whole time

I’ve locked up all my emotions tight

I don’t have the energy to feel,

The only sensation I can comprehend

Is rigidness.


“Always Tired. Never of You.”

When can I rest my head again?

When can I just spend my time

Just leisurely being myself

Not fulfilling anyone’s expectations

Of what I should be doing

Of where I should be going

Of who I should be

I’ve felt this pressure from all accounts

The people and stigmatisms that surround me

I use to feel similar pressures about you

Overtly concerned about how you saw me

How your perception would see right through me

And that you would find out how ugly and imperfect I am

But oddly enough, the older we get

The less I care about others’ opinions

Because to invest energy in something so trivial

Is an endless and fruitless endeavor

Yet even so I occasionally do care

And on those occasions where I’m being drained

Of every last drop of my compassion and empathy

For conniving and manipulative ploys

The kind where you get sucked dry until you are jaded

I find my safe space wherever you lay

Away from all the chaos and nonsense

Away from those leeches that feed off sanity

I just imagine myself joining you for some pillow talk

A place I can tell you all my secrets

And know you’ll still want me around afterwards

Because you have secrets of your own

That I find you even more endearing for

A therapist asked me once to visualize a happy place

One where there is no animosity that lives longer than just a moment

Where I am comfortable

Where I’m accepted and welcomed

A place where I feel at home

You are my home.

It is place where imperfection is not rejected

Where desire for growth is not shamed but respected

Where mutual respect for being a human is granted

Sometimes being in your space and coming home is difficult

Sometimes all the good and warmth get challenged

By us being human and being passionate by nature

But then the good parts feel even better on the other side of those hard times

In those challenging times when we push each other away

All I want to do still and lay next to you

To feel your heart beating

To hear that rhythm remind me to keep my own beating too

How I am not living for myself alone now

You heartbeat reminds me my existence matters

When can I rest my head again

When can I go back home again

And allow myself to be wrapped up in the warmth I crave

I wish my home wasn’t always so far away.


Subtle Rumble

Today I met a lady from Nigeria.
She had the most beautiful voice
I’ve heard in a while.
Her accent was heavy but,
It would be familiar with her motherland.
Her dictation was flawless and clear.
A subtle rumble to the depth of her sound
Accompanied her passively aware stares.
She blessed me as I left to go about my day,
Her spirit sweetly empowering mine.
Her intention in our minute interaction
Brightened up my recent dimness in vibe.

– January 7, 2018



As if All My Might Equalizes to Nothing

Head is so blurry and nothing is clear
Like thick murky water
I swim through and swim but still
No progression
As if all my might equalized to nothing
No change in pace
Stuck swimming in the same surroundings
This little pond seems so large
And impossible to escape from and
All I have is my try and my might
Which feels as passive as an attempt
As the lack of support from those who say
They would help.

– November 28, 2014