scared baby with the head shaved
occasionally
she gets to step up the stage
begging for love
and acceptance
so i accept her
lovingly
i hold her in my mind
like i hold my little Oz
letting the words echo:
i am here
you are safe
artwork: gustav klimt, “mother and child”
my love language's a touch was forsaken for quite long isn't it like riding a bicycle too? muscle memory jumps right in my body remembers the warmth the breath the shiver the surrender
artwork: embrace by Gizem Özer via http://www.saatchiart.com
*artwork via mayhemandmuse.com
growing pains
chew me up
this time i’ll stare right back
today i’m ready to
embrace the sadness
it is mine.
it’s not me.
*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
Went sour.
I am overdosed.
Yet so scared of letting go.
*artwork- “impostor” by leslie ann o’dell via leslieannodell.com
being displeased
tiny bug bites within
feeds on disappointment
eats frozen invoiced words
wormish sleeky tales
of illusions that won’t ever bring light
unfriendly friends
sly enemies
hello, i say
when they come so close
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
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.
*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, |
*artwork-“angels in waiting” by libby mills via libbymills.wordpress.com
| together-less togetherness it’s me, waiting on him till he wants to tell me his story this building is shivering |
*artwork- by jiwoon pak via artparasites.com
| absurdistan. my being is ridiculous country. it’s easy: i merely want to be needed, important and irreplaceable. so that they won’t have a new girl, again. but, in the meantime, i am bored. in a common cardboard box, |
*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? just impatience, 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. hello, roman. i just wanted to say good-bye. |
on my way up 