well fed-08.07.11

*artwork-“fatigue” by tom bennett via saatchiart.com

2327709-zjoxadjp-7

I grew to hate the aftertaste of your kisses.

It lingers for hours.

My home suffocates under the shield of your cigarettes

And leftovers of lust.

You’ve been worshiped for so long

That now I can barely take you.

I am sick of hearing your impotent words

And your once mind-bending touch

Went sour.

 

I am overdosed.

Yet so scared of letting go.
 

 

 

 

the shadow of nicole and marrast-04.02.11

*artwork-  “impostor” by leslie ann o’dell via leslieannodell.com

smallimposter_leslieannodell

being displeased
tiny bug bites within
feeds on disappointment
eats frozen invoiced words
wormish sleeky tales
of illusions that won’t ever bring light
unfriendly friends
sly enemies
hello, i say
when they come so close
that i can touch with my bare hands
feel through steely hearts
look into their eyes
inhale their lies
this stream of  hollow promises
destined to die quietly
but my stomach
holds hope, in the farthest rooms
of the reddish matter
that’s called intestines
i like to show it off
and to pretend
being the fair one.

who are you?-5.12.10

*artwork-“empathy”  by John Edward Marin via fineartamerica.com

empathy-john-edward-marin

 

who are you people?
countless names on countless pages.
is it all about comfort?
and why destroy freshly built basics?

he who likes Kurt Vonnegut and Milorad Pavic,
damn geniuses, i adorebeing adored
being the smart one
playing with
enchanting music attached to words that have no meaning
to me
and books
little book worm, devouring pages
under the blanket
that’s what i was
and now words are pale.

i want to be understood,
and, maybe, forgiven.

she says i’ve got to-17.01.10

*artwork- frustration by mehran roozbahni

e1c9846e3a4b4193451427080de1ead4

she says i’ve got to try to like this little girl
and i wonder, what is the way?
i wish i could friend her on facebook

she says i’ve got to stop pushing her away,
stop erasing her from this hard disk
on the back of my mind,
mossy used to say

she says i should be empathetic…
should i?
for something that i can not really grasp?
or remember?

coward.

i hide among all these names that barely have faces
just so i won’t have to see my own
and there they go
so precious so unimportant
i keep this puzzle of pieces with no unique form
i choose where to place them
while i lay in my bed and do not remember
whose stomach is pressed against my back.

for my own good-6.01.10

*artwork- view of the exhibition “Powerless Structures” at Tel Aviv Museum of Art

elmgreen_et_dragset_view-of-the-exhibition-powerless-structures-at-tel-aviv-museum-of-art-tel-aviv-israel-2016_11117_1_w800_195235

what was i
when was i
one of these …imprisoned on
white islands of metal solitude
on each – imperfect youth
so early broken, nearly left
in it together
so painfully alone.

perverted arc,
“it’s for your own good”,
they said
and others – silent,
impotent
was i
tied and shaved,
and waiting…

 

can it be hate, right now?-14.12.09

*artwork- “in love and hate” by sherrie thai via flickriver.com

4370077313_d5854ae862

can it be hate, right now?
for beauty of a kind that never lasts
decays and disappears, fades away for good
so simply complicated
i only searched for touch
too horrified to look
too petrified to see
beyond
there’re no soothing lips that cover

can it be hate, right now?
he never is. he never stays.
i know, 10000 times a ” yes”
rom is a mere romance
all that he is- a shadow
drained out well
a mother and a father
he’s never loving, never loved

can it be hate, right now?
execrated beauty?
condemned smile?
and what about
the curving smoke that always walled me out?
and all these words that were never born?
these hands? so feminine. that choke with tender.

can it be hate, right now?
still blinded
i crave to smear blood
your own tears and blood. all over pretty face.
i die to smack these lips, so womanlike.
i want to make you cry and ache
god damn ache and cry
please, cry

can it be hate, right now?
or is it still a love?

transparent like the powder i wore-13.12.09

2017-01-07-16-51-24

transparent like the powder i wore
i felt
on Thursday

on Friday, being reclusive nomad,
pushing aside all smart ass reasons, i
left  my fortress home, for us
this hour and a half means nothing
along the shoreline, through the rain
oh, fast as dreaming,
i traveled. excited like this sea
and it was storming

and then. you are the shelter

Saturday morning.
too good to bare,
so
i begin to question

the eyes are all of a sudden moist
you’re comfortless. thus madly tender.
the girl is coming. more real than real.
she’ll clean your mess.
she did in august.
i do not hate her.
i pity her for
she is as hostage here as i am

i smell like you and sex
and she is present, watching
soon it’s her turn

i want to throw up. i am nowhere
still have no place.
another man is out there.
he has some room for me. he waits
while i deceive with you.
oh, how romantic.
it’s sickening.
so you get strength to throw up
for that, i am impaired
homeless
i don’t believe you
when you say my name

i am the snake, remember?
you are the one who charms
i am there only when you are not
oh, you kiss the gentlest when you know i am hurt

of imminently shifting tides-10.12.09

2017-01-07-15-01-43

*artwork- drawing by kosta gurgov

deputed beggar
spotless junky
getting no share.
i am gone.

hungered by anger
stabbed with self pity
embedded by excluding blame
again, i am being tortured
while glue-like minutes drip away

that’s who i am
unheeded child,
still waiting, miserably restless,
for ever evanescent mom.

Greek tragedy…
predestined rocking…
oh, mother, is there any good in talking
(of imminently shifting tides?)