the constant- 26.02.24

artwork: Balazs Solti via https://pixelsmerch.com/

finally! my quest for love is over.

oh, i am so done slaving

for affection and approval.

my eyes, always looking up

in search of validation,

can rest, at last.

what a fucking relief.

what am i left with?

no worries, i’ve got

the constant.

the built in set of

racing (weary) mind and

hanging (hollow) soul.

a prayer for ariel-24.08.11

*artwork-“unlocking nine locks” by laura simms via touchdrawing.com

 

frozen hand of mercy squeezes my throat mercilessly every time he is near. ——- i failed he is down so i am screaming soundlessly so he won’t hear so he falls slowly-er so he falls on the soft ground on the green grass on someone else’s hands 35 years old child he did cry twice when i hugged him close and he let me touch, then for the briefest moment, he showed and i’ve panicked and now he is a tiny shadow of the man he used to be when he was 20. i pray for ariel to be back

for my own good-6.01.10

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

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…

prison-1.01.10

*artwork- “anguish” by darren johnson via saatchiart.com

 

between third cup of coffee and unimaginary anguish i try to escape from my own prison words echoing in my room said and unsaid as i walk around, lost in my own fortress not recognizing this space, i am a stranger to my own thoughts, so familiar, so i pushed out and away, and now, left in my beloved solitude i am full of hatred that can not find its way to me or you, all itchy i wish to scratch you out or to leave this incapable pale skin and find a new place to contain my rusty world of ————————————- scared baby with a head shaved and legs tied to a bed that is everything scared baby, that waits for a savior to come in sterile room, with windows ever closed and smell of lost hope where every minute is an eternity and every touch is love deprived ————————————-

love deprived whore on a days of hecate-15.12.09

*artwork-“don’t take my sunshine away” via tumblr

sometimes i wake up in the mornings and i just know that it is going to be a bad day. empty. unfilled. or, filled with dismay and anxiety. and then everything gets slow. arthur says these are the days of Hecate. so that i am sensitive during. and, in general, sensitive. gera calls it “love deprived whore, with her heart locked”. that is also a way to put it. it’s been a year since i am tending  to myself. listening. sometimes it seems that i do hear something. is this how breaking through feels? today i am restless again. i am not barren, but i can not give birth. there is something inside, yet it is unable to come out. i am not letting it go.