*artwork-“fatigue” by tom bennett via saatchiart.com
I grew to hate the aftertaste of your kisses.
It lingers for hours.
My home suffocates under the shield of your cigarettes
And leftovers of lust.
You’ve been worshiped for so long
That now I can barely take you.
I am sick of hearing your impotent words
And your once mind-bending touch
I am overdosed.
Yet so scared of letting go.
*artwork- “impostor” by leslie ann o’dell via leslieannodell.com
tiny bug bites within
feeds on disappointment
eats frozen invoiced words
wormish sleeky tales
of illusions that won’t ever bring light
hello, i say
when they come so close
that i can touch with my bare hands
feel through steely hearts
look into their eyes
inhale their lies
this stream of hollow promises
destined to die quietly
but my stomach
holds hope, in the farthest rooms
of the reddish matter
that’s called intestines
i like to show it off
and to pretend
being the fair one.
*artwork-“embrace” by egon schiele
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
underneath changing skies,
the city was vicious and i needed (to)
i wonder what was it?
how lonely i felt embraced by the loved one.
how lonely my loved one has probably felt.
*artwork-“empathy” by John Edward Marin via fineartamerica.com
|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,
i want to be understood,
damn geniuses, i adorebeing adored
being the smart one
enchanting music attached to words that have no meaning
little book worm, devouring pages
under the blanket
that’s what i was
and now words are pale.
and, maybe, forgiven.
*artwork-“angels in waiting” by libby mills via libbymills.wordpress.com
it’s me, waiting on him
till he wants to tell me his story
this building is shivering
and can be broken down
with one simple word
whispered inside out
whispered because it needs to be shouted
and blind eyes will become green
and deaf ears will heed
and mute mouth will break silence
*artwork- by jiwoon pak via artparasites.com
my being is ridiculous country.
it’s easy: i merely want to be needed, important and
so that they won’t have a new girl, again.but, in the meantime, i am bored.
and everything around me seems
people used to be.
and i once was
someone that i am not, anymore.
yet, i hold on to. clinging to something
that is not even memory.
ever present anxiety.
so, i wait. i’m alert.
always ready for being turned away.
returned to the manufacturer.
in a common cardboard box,
straight to unlovingness.
*artwork-“smoke” by brigitte werner via pixabay.com
|for more than two hundred and seventy days
i pushed away, it was not easy.
funny it feels, the tips of stiff fingers tremble
and heart pounds so fast.
this face in front of me. still precious? or is it?
covered with thin layer of curiosity
covered with thick layer of urge to destroy.
everything’s so familiar
these feminine hands,
hiding behind ever present cigarette
and convenient smoke.
i just wanted to say good-bye.
*artwork-“waiting for the sun” by cameron gray via fineartamerica.com
|“pattern”, it is called.
her little personal drama.
all of a sudden – a whirlpool,
echoing voice of sticky old trauma.”don’t wait for me yet”
well, it’s too late,
the mechanism’s on
her heart sings that
*artwork-“acceptance” by ella prakash via mojarto.com
nah, just all in one.
i am as complicated as a shampoo.
beloved and be-hated villains,
sour and sweet voices
they build and then destroy,
occasionally sharing the same sentence.
boy, do i love it!
major fuck up.
production flaw at mama’s factory.
another wise man said, that
in best families (sh)it happens, too.
*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.
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.