picking a scab-14.01.15

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*artwork- “wound” by pejac via artcollectorz.com

 

When I pick a scab,

Tiny echo of ache,

What do I wish to feel?

Quite simple.

To feel.

It’s yearning for yearning.

An infinite plowing through barren fields

Of terrain so hard and  frozen.

Burnt.

Forsaken.

Orphaned.

No woman’s land.

My enslavement to pain

Never loosens its grip.

Devout hostage to sour lump in my throat, I am.

Won’t ever spit out

Won’t ever push in.

That’s right.  For

Being tormented is of rarest value.

ilan-3.01.10

*artwork-“Further up, further In” by sol kjøk via galleriramfjord.net

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i do not care. you can be anyone
when i close my eyes i do not feel
the difference.
eager to be held
and being lied to.
i close my eyes. you can be anyone
do not infect the air with consonants and vowels
the only lie i believe in is your hands
with eyes closed, they feel the same.
when you came to rescue me
the other night, i was glad
but it was not you i was waiting for.
and when you kissed my mouth,
smeared crowd of strangers around us,
i was not kissing you back.
and when i laid in that bed,
all frozen and burning,
it was not your stomach pressed against my spine.

my hair still smells like 1000 cigarettes
and my bed still have the imprint of
another illusion,
but it is your face i do not remember.
again.

prison-1.01.10

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

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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

————————————-

can it be hate, right now?-14.12.09

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

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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

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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