happy new year-31.12.09

*artwork- “red couple dance” by naxart studio via fineartamerica.com


walled in comforting fears
my fruitful quest for rejection
won’t stop. i’d not give up
on you
so sweet, slap after slap
every word tastes like leather belt on my skin
leaving red marks that i collect and keep
carefully cataloged
and maintain them thoroughly.

we move, altering egos of cowardice.
my faceless men
your nameless women,
an endless fuel for
our dance of hurt and solace.

in the middle-28.12.09

*artwork- painting by andrew salgado via justimagine-ddoc.com/art


i was having pulsing you, in me,
for long minutes, i believed
your phone rang and rang and rang
i asked to pick it up
and right away
i felt your flesh and your mind sliding out
from me
to her.

she was bleeding,
maybe loosing her baby.
i heard you say
” i am sorry, i can’t”
and the thought
“i could easily be in her shoes”

blew my mind

you were out,
out of me,
out of my bed, my room
my life.

yet not with her.
never taking sides.
always in the middle. 

i was silent.
you- eaten by guilt, every touch is an apology- asked
“what’s on your mind?”

“i am sad, for
you’re so eager to be the savior.
yet you are never truly there ”

can it be hate, right now?-14.12.09

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


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
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


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,
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
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




and once again i lost myself
floating astray inside this tempest.
bustan – the garden of carmel-
is where gutless drawn for shelter.
i watched them,
hearing no sounds.
forever children
in their 30-s.
my bare feet were reminiscing
forgotten stings of wooden dance floor.
obstructed crowd of “enlightened”
and me, among them,
feeling awkward.
my frozen fingers were caressing
cheap glass of substance filled with sadness.
thus, hostile body went on mourning
over once present sparkle.

while absent, yet, i was observing
these aging girls, mindlessly dancing.
i choked on envy, realizing,
that have you been here without me,
you could have taken any of them.