cold home-13.01.11

*artwork-“embrace” by egon schiele

embrace

will i ever conquer the vibrant?

Caledonian sky was beautiful
sometimes i could feel free
and scared no more
but here i go, cold home
that feels alien
i’ve lost track of time
in my own 2.5 rooms
where i walk with my eyes closed at nights,
touching guidelines of walls.
my hands are different.
every piece of my body is unpleasantly new
though i am not renewed, tired.
may be this is the sense of freedom
freedom-like dungeon
underneath changing skies,
the city was vicious and i needed (to)
revenge.

i wonder what was it?
how lonely i felt embraced by the loved one.
how lonely my loved one has probably felt.

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.

roads-13.09.10

*artwork- “confusion” by roswita szyszka via  dart.fine-art.co

while  married to roads,
of microscopic (barely) homeland,
i’ve been around and across.
same scenery all over.
relentless skies.
brown growth.
sea is on my left. hopelessness- on right.
forever with my eyes closed
i am to hear someone else’s music,
and feel a stranger’s elbow
and smell a piercing sweat.

and now, again i’m lost?
these ways are alien.
i am at the crossroads,
same ruthless sky and rusty growth.
still. location is unclear.

you drive. your hand rests on my knee
together. we are so lost together
these roads divide and split,
so threatening, and we
we are bemused again.
you don’t know what to say

and my words die inside so i keep silent.

jerusalem for fool-25.06.10

*artwork-by gary kaleda

digital-profile

pure fantasy.
sunny winter days. my favorite.
ha!door opens and he brings the air in
for me to breath.
every time, virgin-like thrill
lusty love, lovely lust.
senses wide shut,
carefully covered
with precise amount of artificial sweetener.
yeah..well, the real is here ( or is he?)
morning coffee with silence OST
families, groceries. sink full of junk.

pretenders? or is it all that it takes?

i am unjust. the goodness is all over.
it’s only that… so difficult to let go
of imaginary passion,
for cosy warmth and promise(?)
of obscure togetherness.

hedgehogs in the fog-19.05.10

*artwork-  from “hedgehog in the fog” masterpiece animation by yuri norshteyn, 1975

b09303b7338cb800a4b62e914128227f

 

 

he says “i love you so much”…
does he acknowledge the burden?

the rules are unclear.
thus, my love is entwined with your guilt.
i make you sip it, in swallows you are able
to take.
i thought. and i missed.
you ask for mercy and i am letting go.

hedgehogs in the fog

we are
so curious, but then
disturbed, choking on ambiguous fears,
shadow-like thoughts,
made up tornadoes and delirious tremors.

we watch scary movies,
you laugh as i cover my eyes,
yet you hold me closer.

it’s all about tea, raspberry jam, and stars.

13th of march-13.03.10

*artwork-“The Delusional Confusion” by Darwin Leon

download

redhearted statements of love and trust
and vice versa. and mere vice
my mind is a mess
and i keep messing with it
it feels like rubbing one palm against another
so familiar, but can you describe it?
my thoughts…those ones covered with spiderwebs
an old attic stuffed with redundant words and gestures
and i stand among them like in someone else’s dream
where gravity rules work no more
and rhymes have no meaning.
i know that i have to hand him the tickets
because i invited him for this ride.
he says the transportation was all legal and
this place was never visited before.an attic or a cellar
whatever is this place
i am scared
and i eager to be held
and i need eternal promises.

hungry-02.03.10

*artwork-“Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth.

christinas-world

imagine metal lid over a deep hatch.
heavy. rusty. covered with dust. way out of use.

i tried my best to keep it closed
pushed with all the strength i had
and, boy, i may be strong with my eyes shut
but i received the permission, and i can not hold it anymore

__________________
it is free
and it is endless
and i don’t even understand what it feels like
to feel.

ariel-31.01.10

 

*artwork-  via darkascharcoal.tumblr.com/

7fee0c5752c5c329690a6c6b14b6daa2

god’s lion, he is
or god’s lamb?
androgyny
my hebrew jesus crist
so close to perfect, but
merely gentle

it was like dancing
because i wasn’t
i could not feel my limbs,
i was too old, and all the same the youngest

suburbs of holiness
illusive peace of. mind?
unending touch. no words to hide in

so easy to pretend
to be
blindfolded animal.
another step on
well known ground
so firm so nonexistent.