*artwork-“dark matter” by luca l. via studentartguide.com
|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
we are so powerless
in this 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
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
*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- 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-“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-“growth”, digital art by anastasiya malakhova
|the moment you were gone
the voice of my mind was heard again.
so tiny and so weak, yet, it is here.
i’m thrilled to have it back,
to execute my grief
and comprehend its startling solace.
so many tears, i never knew i could, forever, if it takes
but i do feel so much
and come across my brand new greenest leaves.
the agent of a change,
no other choice for me.
i’ll hold that mirror,
and when they’re ready-
i set them free to search.
and you became so ripe, so willing to explore and face
your own incubus.
my VIP, now you begin your journey.
i will be out there.
just as you asked.
i’ll keep an eye on you,
won’t let you fade away.
*artwork-“Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth.
|imagine metal lid over a deep hatch.
heavy. rusty. covered with dust. way out of use.
i tried my best to keep it closed
pushed with all the strength i had
and, boy, i may be strong with my eyes shut
but i received the permission, and i can not hold it anymore
it is free
and it is endless
and i don’t even understand what it feels like
*artwork- frustration by mehran roozbahni
|she says i’ve got to try to like this little girl
and i wonder, what is the way?
i wish i could friend her on facebook
she says i’ve got to stop pushing her away,
stop erasing her from this hard disk
on the back of my mind,
mossy used to say
she says i should be empathetic…
for something that i can not really grasp?
i hide among all these names that barely have faces
just so i won’t have to see my own
and there they go
so precious so unimportant
i keep this puzzle of pieces with no unique form
i choose where to place them
while i lay in my bed and do not remember
whose stomach is pressed against my back.
*artwork- selfportait by stas korolov
|and there he goes painting and drawing and sketching his own face again and again and again, trying to understand who he is. every single day. he doesn’t try to pretend, to make it look prettier, more appealing, more attractive. no. he wants it real. with all these lines and black spots and dry skin. he wants it real. so he paints it with oil on canvas and with charcoals on white sheets of paper and with an ink pen in his old notebooks. hundreds of drawings. with different facial expressions, with different lighting, with all kinds of objects and people around him. and he goes on and on and tries to find sense and meaning in this inconsistent mix of flesh and desires of bones and emotions of secretions and hopes of functioning body and dysfunctional soul.