biodanza grenade-05.09.17

head-explosion-artwork-planet-stars-others-4688-resized

*artwork- via  wallpapermaiden.com

 

biodanza melted everything

into my inability to be while with others

there, (un)disturbed and loud, it exploded

grenade of piercing realizing: 

i am so scared to not be able to love

to ever be able to care for someone

more than i care for myself

i’m terrified, that i’ll have to give up so much

for an uncertain promise to obtain.

 

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rabbit burglar beast- 19.07.17

inspirations.cgrecord.net-SilviaPelissero-6

*artwork- by Silvia Pelissero (a.k.a Agnes-Cecile) via inspirations.cgrecord.net

 

Anxiety is swift

Is a rabbit hiding in a high grass

Jumping on the path in front of you

Shuffling your thoughts in a second

Is a skillful burglar

That bursts into your walls

Robs you of the ever thinning peace and

quiet.

Is a ghostly beast, it smiles in your face

While watching you fail.

After being tamed for too long

It wants its freedom

Back and big.

So I have no choice

But to submit and surrender.

I’m letting it feed on plentiful of my fears

Primarily on the one that flickers in my head

In  massive neon-red letters:

“Am I able to bring and sustain life?”

the pattern-02.12.11

*artwork-“dark matter” by luca l. via studentartguide.com

dark-matter-charcoal

all the colors of mine
are not enough
to block the blackness
all the words i used to know
are wiped clean
by the persistence of your silence

so i get pulled, again
into turbulence of my dreads
fueled by vigor of your own

the story repeats itself
again and again
and again
vicious
cruel void
we are so powerless
in this love
love

you can not bear the most of me
and i want out so bad
but then you drop
the magic words
they work unfailingly
and i give in
give up
smiling
charmed, blinded by the sweetness of promise
and mute for some more
because there’s touch
it feels so god damn right
to get lost in our dizzy childish truths
and lies, so white, transparent almost
they help us through another day
of pretending

dedicated to momi vaknin, a man who creates bread-16.07.11

*artwork-“le regret” by charbel samuel aoun

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

another kind eyes decorated with a smile
to celebrate all the good things
that are out there,
made all the bad things that are in me
rise. shamelessly.
enclosed in my own self
i laugh out loudly
waking up all the demons,
and scaring off all the angels,
who guard no more.
i laugh out loudly,
watching loads of instances
of choices that were never made
dancing, swirling with the dust
of chances that were never taken.

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.

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.

on my way home-23.12.09

*artwork-“sad melody of a street performer” by yuri kodimer via imgrum.net

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as i walk home,
shaking off their faces, stories, their smell and fear,
i reconnect
with my own neglected for 6.5 hours being
i lift up my eyes, “vintage” buildings for
bohemian (and) junkies.
sky is never gentle, with homeless me,
with ever homeless them.
concrete stairs, i learned to breath quietly
this hill is a loving enemy.
what do they feel leaving my room?
leaving me to watch their deepest secrets
like i watch this drying laundry on Bauhaus remnants.
on my way home.