This is where I scribble my fascinations.
I go to it when I’m terrified,
and when I need to confess my truest desires.
It rescues me when I fall,
yet plunges me into lucid hazes
I so fondly wish to not wake up from.
It holds onto my hand while coaxing me
to look into the eyes of terror until it quivers like a smitten kitten
and succumbs to my will.
It’s lustrous red cover seals words inked in secrecy,
and bound in confidentiality.
It deciphers my lingo
It understands my agony
My ugly notebook is what keeps me warm on midsummer’s night
and hugs me dearly so I feel my heart palpate through its pages.
Within it, I could procrastinate forever.
I can confide in the unrefined calligraphy
signed by your’s truly.
My ugly notebook is the expression of myself
as an entity, bold. Unfazed
It nurtures my zeal and unburdens my spirit
so that I am light,
resting in the comfort of my words,
indulging in quests I wouldn’t normally
yield to with my eyes open.
This is home. It is disorderly and messy,
but it is home.
Once in a while,
I find inspiration in these pages
and even more, I find healing.
The things I may never be able to say,
I find zenitude.
My ugly notebook is my fortress of hope in the midst of shadow chasers
It calms my turmoil soul when songs of sorrows escape into the wind,
keeping me engaged in profound chatter
so that I may not think of the dangers I struggle to overcome
in Amphetamine city.
As I plunge into the deep blues to confront my reflection.
It adjusts my gaze to the sunset on Chloé
causing fire & blood to blend into a rare hue of indigo
in order to kill the beast that is the banshee.
My ugly notebook is Alexander.