living alone wouldn't fix my loneliness i suppose. but i think i would be better because i could be able to share it. with myself. have some true, naked-soul, silent moment with myself. maybe i'd come to terms with silence and affront my fears of being deaf. i'd have plants and a balcony and candles. i'd smoke in the living room next to a standing fan. i'd watch reruns of my favorite movies. i'd write poetry for all the people i'll never date. i'd watch topology lectures at midnight and take down notes. i'd pin pictures to the walls and write mirrors. i guess it wouldn't fix my loneliness, but it would sure look envying.
in contrast
i think i wanted to say
to admit maybe
that the beginning of this year
and the ending of it
were the same.
they weren't.
at all.
i don't remember anything before july.
i feel as if those warm months were lost
drowned in alcohol
but they weren't-
i just
erased the good memories.
i guess i remember my scarred skin.
my long hair and my broken nails.
my lean, clean feet.
my bruised legs.
now i only know
scarred hands and feet.
good skin, short hair
pale as a sheet.
there's an exhaustion buried deep within me.
bigger than the anger.
bigger than the hate.
oh how times have changed.
i feel like there's
hope?
but i'm still,
i'm still
so alone
field trip
i want to play the strings;
ice cold waters i suppose
they'll work as blankets.
some souls come here
but they don't stay long.
they shape and slash our bodies
they stab and wound our
helping hands
in that grand gesture
we open our arms with gratitude.
death to me is not a mystery.
it is, after all, the only destiny.
we will carry as much as we can
on this vessels of ours.
stop trying to find the reason
in the mirror.
crushed alarms
But then she hopes
SHE HOPES
down her sandpaper throat
she muffles all the screams.
It's all about hope, you know.
About the channeling of resources
Of hard work and that FUCKING
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP
I've put it off many times.
Everyone has left me alone again
except for like, two people.
Her inner self is crying like
a 41-year-old
after her life has built up to nothing.
She's as important
as the dead skin on your soles
And it wears her out like rubber.
appalling is the noise
of paper thin walls
and conversations filled with anger
Oh yesterday they held this kingdom
now it's falling down to pieces.
I wish there were no windows.
However, I'm blind.
I can't see what I don't
want to see.
I have been blinding out people
to protect my hopes, intact
and to protect myself from nothingness
(Which abounds inside me)
(I'm as weary as a five-year old
alarm clock)
she SNAPS into pieces
even when everyone thought
she could hold it together.
"try not to drown me into oblivion"
leaving clues
i'm leaving clues of my age somewhere
i'm kind sure i'll regret this soon
these clothes have hidden me for days
i might just wear them just to break in
my hands are printed with dust
but not the kind of dust we'd hope for
looking back i'm somewhere in between
the life i wish i had,
and the worst nightmare i've slept through.
new years i guess,
they always come.
widened mind
i've been living in somebody else's nightmare
i wish i could just wake up and erase the past nine months
wash me away like bleached water
running down the clogged drain
i am trapped inside the responsibility of living
i suppose i shouldn't stretch this so much
but there's no possibility of sunrise
when i can't see anyone smile
the sun will burn our skin
even in the foggiest days.
the storm has come and
will take us away.
i know i've been here before,
i just don't know when.
i wish i could scream i'm dying,
but there would be nothing left to say.
the days after the war
after the war ended
i was stranded.
my ears pierced through the silence.
for some minutes there was only noise,
in my head i was already on shore.
i guess i hid my head in known arms,
i don't know.
i guess i cried in foreign lands,
i don't know.
but once the war ended i felt
i was neither on the winning
or the losing side.
i was somewhere in between.
in between fold mountains
of my own worst fears,
striding through the cold ice waters of the better days,
how i would catch my breath and run;
i felt so safe then.
i feel no safety now.
there is absolutely no way of knowing
when it is going to come,
but there are wars you can't hide from.
they start in the hospital cafés and the cute waiter who won't acknowledge you
among all the other faces.
it begins with you accepting
that you are scared
and running away from home
for no better reason
other than facing the shame of staying.
the only thing i wish
i had known before
is how strong i could be.
how much pressure a human body
can resist.
i wish i knew
that once you come as defeated
you have to pack, leave,
and move on.
no one will stay for so long to mourn with you,
a pat on the shoulder and they are gone.
nobody will understand your intentions
and you'll pretend to be okay.
you'll find it hard
to get up in the morning
and get through the day,
to wash the dishes
and sleep the emptiness away.
after the war ended
there was more noise.
the guns that have fired
are ready to load.
here comes the aftermath,
here comes the end.
here come the nightmares
and your own private hell.
fresh start
how much does it take
to reinvent the self?
to wipe away all efforts
start again?
does it take courage,
to change for what one
is not?
is it true that there's no
way you can hide what you are
for a long time?
because i do really wish
i could start over
sometimes.
i guess we've got our mistakes
we want to forget.
i tell myself i won't
i won't do this again
(i won't blind myself
with drinks tonight)
(i won't text him
even if he breaks my heart)
i swear i will be a good person.
i'm going after some new stuff man
let's hold on like we used to
let's black out these scenes like teenagers
in other words let me be the universe
revolving around you.
i want to feel the warm breeze
which still numbs my feet and curls my hair
in the spaces filling up the air we breathe;
indistinguishable from the taste of
oceans and insatiable afternoons of what
i call, loosely, love.
it tickles the skin of my arms
blurs the vision of your own eyes and
creeps down our spines
but we won't let it scare us, oh no
let's hold on like we used to
let's black out these scenes like
the scared adults we know we are
we ride buses at midnight to find our times
let's black out these scenes like teenagers
in other words let me be the universe
revolving around you.
i want to feel the warm breeze
which still numbs my feet and curls my hair
in the spaces filling up the air we breathe;
indistinguishable from the taste of
oceans and insatiable afternoons of what
i call, loosely, love.
it tickles the skin of my arms
blurs the vision of your own eyes and
creeps down our spines
but we won't let it scare us, oh no
let's hold on like we used to
let's black out these scenes like
the scared adults we know we are
we ride buses at midnight to find our times
the rain
i blocked notions to my heart
and suddenly it all feels like summer.
the rain is coming, i reckon.
much to my dismay,
it whispers,
the rain is only coming on you.
my only battle now lost.
my broken armour now gone.
i build my fortress with muds and stone.
and yet it whispers,
the rain has come to take you on.
this being a grown up
this being a grown up has turned out exactly how i thought it would. everything i stood for feels now distant and i am not alone. but i miss you all the time. that hasn't changed, i guess. i don't think it will.
summer 78, yann tiersen
it kinda reminds me of him
it kinda reminds me of you
it kinda reminds me of daniel bruhl
it kinda reminds me of you
it kinda reminds me of daniel bruhl
of crying
of not speaking
of not being able to speak
of berlin and
of not speaking
of not being able to speak
of berlin and
mass destruction
it reminds me of space
of my mother
telling you i didn't believe
in anything anymore
of reading
of empty days and lying
of sweetness and
love
of questioning authority
it reminds me of space
of my mother
telling you i didn't believe
in anything anymore
of reading
of empty days and lying
of sweetness and
love
of questioning authority
the nineties
and all the events i've been
and all the events i've been
missing.
i guess it
just reminded me
of me.
i guess it
just reminded me
of me.
the person i am becoming
turning out to be one of those human beings who smoke cigarretes in the park while reading david foster wallace, wearing a long camel coat, turtlenecks and red lipstick. leaving stains on plastic coffee cups and cigarette butts. having coffee in the same bar for years and buying used books. a human who is in comfort with their loneliness. a human who doesn't sleep very well and has a constant nausea that could maybe bring them closer to who they want to be. a human of gray winter days, who secretly begs for summer sunshine.
i told you it had to be done by midnight
his voice
trailed off last night.
one couple of heartstrings
and there he went.
with wet eyes he said
he had to go
and i had no tone
on the cordless phone.
maybe i am his trigger
to the mind unopened
for the past couple of years.
how i wish i was.
diary entry, august 31st, 2015
i feel like i'm living in someone else's nightmare. i don't see myself living in this skin, rather than outliving it. there's a sense around stating that this is in fact progress, but i don't recognize myself anymore. maybe a moment of acceptance has come at last, maybe this is who i truly am, but not who i want to be. never words more true came out of my fingers, i suppose. i think now i understand the boundaries i am confined into, this body being my only friend for the rest of my living days and everything around me, including myself, will continue to change. however, by no means my essence shall change. whatever dreads are put ahead of me, i'll always put my self headfirst.
what looks like blood
what looks like blood
drips down the corner of your mouth.
i watch, in awe, all
the universes you contain.
and for all the misplaced words
and rocking bullets,
i knew i was embarrassing myself from the start.
it was out of boredom,
it was out of thrill,
it was out of love,
but i was out to kill;
and yet the coolest of the hands
took hold of me
and in what looks like blood
i saw the rest of my life.
drips down the corner of your mouth.
i watch, in awe, all
the universes you contain.
and for all the misplaced words
and rocking bullets,
i knew i was embarrassing myself from the start.
it was out of boredom,
it was out of thrill,
it was out of love,
but i was out to kill;
and yet the coolest of the hands
took hold of me
and in what looks like blood
i saw the rest of my life.
little token
we had no more
strict policy of
let's be bad.
it was just out of boredom,
i guess we would go breaking glass
but it was not
that.
it was a missing feeling
in our rotting teeth.
cheap shampoo
landscapes the emptiness of
terracota motels
where no man belongs.
we no longer had rules
to celebrate the anguish
we sought for.
bang bang bang
hear my upstairs neighbours again,
i might be going insane
bang bang bang.
oh yeah,
insane.
what a sweet little
free word.
questions for future me
should i be worried if
no one
in eighteen years
has told me
to my face
that they thought
i was
beautiful?
or even
pretty?
they say i shouldn't
but
how can i fight
billions of people?
it chokes me, you know?
no one
in eighteen years
has told me
to my face
that they thought
i was
beautiful?
or even
pretty?
they say i shouldn't
but
how can i fight
billions of people?
it chokes me, you know?
solitude
solitude is your worst enemy and your best friend. it is in your veins, in your genetic code. you can't stand it, yet your eyes withdraw from scenes too packed. this is a version of you you can understand. your incessant pondering, your inner monologue, breathing in one, two, three, four, five; exhaling in six, seven, eight, nine, ten. you've been lonely for so long there's no chance someone can seemingly get you out of it. it looks, to your eyes, absolutely hopeless to fight against the walls you've built around yourself. don't try to fight it; the only feelings you miss are from those rainy days. you weren't happy. but why do you miss them? is it the freedom of being alone which captivates? is it the way you discover yourself through it? or how it makes you desperate? in any case, you'll sit alone in yet another graveyard at sunset and smoke among strangers. you'll make your way to houses of people you don't know for long lost memories and sit in the coffee shop at their corner, in the hopes of catching a glimpse of someone else's company. maybe then you'll see yourself there and find your place. in someone else's veins maybe, that's where solitude won't turn into loneliness.
slave for words
some of these words,
they come to me and bite me.
words are flesh eaters,
if you let them.
they corrode me and start
developing madly inside me.
but sometimes they get stuck,
dance in my head,
midnight parties
but my hands are
empty football fields.
i can't guess when they'll come
but they are always there,
i need them.
i need words more than i'll ever need
people, and that's strange.
but i do,
jesus,
i'm a slave for words.
they come to me and bite me.
words are flesh eaters,
if you let them.
they corrode me and start
developing madly inside me.
but sometimes they get stuck,
dance in my head,
midnight parties
but my hands are
empty football fields.
i can't guess when they'll come
but they are always there,
i need them.
i need words more than i'll ever need
people, and that's strange.
but i do,
jesus,
i'm a slave for words.
a postcard
don’t let other people tell you what you are ought to do. run away from the haunting nightmares. this barren land is not your kingdom. build your own self. don’t forget about the early summers or midnight friends with stolen booze. don’t forget about night driving or crying at the riverside. take it all in, but never forget...
disappear here
i am trying to be heroic,
in an age of modernity.
i am trying to be heroic,
because all around me history sings.
so i enjoyed and i devoured
flesh and wine and luxury.
but in my heart,
i am lukewarm;
nothing ever really touches me.
diary entry, july 13th
my book opens up to me in ways i didn't expect it to. the material i'm gathering there might be better than the 400 entries this blog has ever had. i wonder if anyone would be interested in reading it. i myself find it quite amusing but hey, i have been my own reader for longer than i can think of.
dead stranger's past times
i walk through lampshades
made of ragged bones;
childhood monsters i'm not too
sure if i'm even here.
i'm so tired i walk through strangers' living rooms,
reminding myself of how once
i was not invited and yet
i wanted to be liked.
in between plastic and price tags
i saw myself out in these
situations among new books
and father's day useless presents.
i walk through mahogany and pinewood,
through fleece and silk.
what is it about department stores
that make us feel so at home?
dream log
all my dreams are direct results of my endless wraithlike desperation. lucid and transparent like the veins on my wrists, i follow the sound of thunder to entwine within my own darkness. a light in the sky flashes and pauses for a moment this universe, an electric storm shakes the windows of my room. for a moment i stood static, between these distant words and a reality that is just not mine yet. and i soak in it, every touch and every word; i sink, then i dream, i dream, i lack rest, i'll keep on dreaming till it's all real...
suture plans/virtual lands
days on end,
i see people i can't look at
for reasons unknown i feel disappointed
in god and clothes;
four days in a row,
i have not yet yanked my head off
supposedly i'm better off without smoking
but i only feel worse;
awareness of the self,
in vacant situations and
kissing couples in train stations
i play the same song four, five times
hoping it will speak to me
and make me feel alive;
i suspect,
i see everyone unfolding
everyone responding
into blackened windows
and old sheets of paper
but myself's been wiped out
between tight hands
around my life's neck;
i suspect, once again,
something missing.
on these paths there's only faces
of smog and miscellaneous
misery
talking to us in languages
all corrupt;
momentary rawness,
i uneven my steps ahead
in this century i may fall,
i may regret all choices
made in wicked sunsets
underneath a loose promise.
guilty pleasures
well it is one hell of a ride honey
it's one hell of a ride
it's in towns left for oblivion
or stone washed condos
i bore myself to death in this holes we built
i bore myself to death
and if there's settling in
nausea and constant aching backs
then maybe by the end of this year
i'll be someone nicer.
lit my cigarette darling
i'm trying too hard to kill myself
in all the good ways
i am so scared yet so desperate
i am the blood between teeth.
have fun with women, love
i still have time
i'm no woman to you
alleged pleasure for something which is absolutely not mine
but who invited you over
to all my favorite records?
fuck this is no longer my rituals
it's only guilt drained for someone's pleasure
it's one hell of a ride
it's in towns left for oblivion
or stone washed condos
i bore myself to death in this holes we built
i bore myself to death
and if there's settling in
nausea and constant aching backs
then maybe by the end of this year
i'll be someone nicer.
lit my cigarette darling
i'm trying too hard to kill myself
in all the good ways
i am so scared yet so desperate
i am the blood between teeth.
have fun with women, love
i still have time
i'm no woman to you
alleged pleasure for something which is absolutely not mine
but who invited you over
to all my favorite records?
fuck this is no longer my rituals
it's only guilt drained for someone's pleasure
don't breathe in this toxic life
lately i have become more aware
(well if you can call paranoia awareness)
that i might not be the person i thought i was
at least not in your eyes.
for a second i thought i'd have a chance
but hey, who am i kidding?
i never had-
why would you be
exceptional?
i'm scared because this is not
the first time
i feel replaced by another pair
of green eyes
and it is also not the first time
that i revive
my spark of hope in spite
of all signals i choose to ignore.
well but maybe i'm wrong,
she says,
maybe it's not true.
maybe he likes you more
or maybe he likes you too.
but the maybe suggests
she believes me too.
i thought that maybe i'd
well maybe
once
i could be the one to
you know,
have some fun?
god i got to like him so much
i hate myself
(well if you can call paranoia awareness)
that i might not be the person i thought i was
at least not in your eyes.
for a second i thought i'd have a chance
but hey, who am i kidding?
i never had-
why would you be
exceptional?
i'm scared because this is not
the first time
i feel replaced by another pair
of green eyes
and it is also not the first time
that i revive
my spark of hope in spite
of all signals i choose to ignore.
well but maybe i'm wrong,
she says,
maybe it's not true.
maybe he likes you more
or maybe he likes you too.
but the maybe suggests
she believes me too.
i thought that maybe i'd
well maybe
once
i could be the one to
you know,
have some fun?
god i got to like him so much
i hate myself
war pose/your screams in my mind
i'm losing more than
i could ever win in this
sick kind of tournament
you've led me defenseless to
my own redemption
and though i'm always looking
for ways to deceive you
you are close to my answer but
i guess you're too scared to say it
just as much as i am scared of
telling the truth.
and they look at me as if i was a stranger
and i am.
people say i'm a bad person,
well then i am.
everyone expects from me
something i know
i'm not ready to give.
daily car crashes
one day he read my poetry and said
well it fucking sucks.
and i laughed,
said,
i know.
then why do you keep writing?
for the same reasons you breathe,
i said.
i write everyday.
i can't function without it.
will you ever publish anything? he asked.
i laughed,
pointed at the screen and said,
what? this crap?
state offices of nothing
the train goes by every day at the same hour.
everytime you leave the station you think,
damn i should take a picture of that sunset,
but you never do.
you arrive always at the same hour.
you watch the light outside the windows and
hopelessly sprawl yourself
in the hope you'll find something better in lost sleep.
the same people fill the same chairs every day.
we all arrive at the same hours.
and i think,
damn i should talk to that guy.
the sun goes up,
and then it goes down,
your shoes are still on,
revolution seems so old.
then it's just you,
this absent moon
and the never ending question of
how things will stay the same.
then it's a question of how
empty the spaces are left.
even this loneliness is so familiar,
it seems like hell.
turbulent skies worthy of pictures are
no longer admirable and those pale blue eyes
are no longer full of life
and i see you fall asleep at the desk and think
should i do something to change?
but then i never do.
everytime you leave the station you think,
damn i should take a picture of that sunset,
but you never do.
you arrive always at the same hour.
you watch the light outside the windows and
hopelessly sprawl yourself
in the hope you'll find something better in lost sleep.
the same people fill the same chairs every day.
we all arrive at the same hours.
and i think,
damn i should talk to that guy.
the sun goes up,
and then it goes down,
your shoes are still on,
revolution seems so old.
then it's just you,
this absent moon
and the never ending question of
how things will stay the same.
then it's a question of how
empty the spaces are left.
even this loneliness is so familiar,
it seems like hell.
turbulent skies worthy of pictures are
no longer admirable and those pale blue eyes
are no longer full of life
and i see you fall asleep at the desk and think
should i do something to change?
but then i never do.
put romeo to rest
do you know what hell looks like?
well hell is dancing with the devil
handcuffed to your own deathwish
waltzing around the grave you dug for yourself.
hell's got blue eyes and a thing for
people like me,
hell's your best wishes and your best friends.
it's the things you love the most,
stabbing you in the back.
it's the life you want the most,
turning its back.
do you know what hell looks like?
it looks like you when you forget my name,
when I struggle to find a way to reach out
and come out empty-handed.
hell is pretty much like drowning
in your own fatelessness.
that's why I can't trust the prettiest faces
and I see no calm inside the eyes of those who love me;
well sometimes I even see myself.
there are holes in my stomach
and a line of burned out cigarettes.
the devil's got your smile
and it's got your name.
god knows I fucked up,
that's why you're my one mistake.
i still didn't want to go to that party
both of us right there
next to the empty table
full of empty bottles and then
you look at me and say
'is there any coke left?'
and the my heart kinda sinks in
and i flash back to a memory of you
being my friend and then,
oh god,
i have a memory of us
i wish i never had.
i look at you,
that feeling never existed
and now look at us,
we're nothing but strangers.
we've always been nothing
but strangers.
expectations
why do i feel like i am missing something?
it's like i have become tangled in
this mess of guts and dust for no reason
and everyone's moving on.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
it feels hard when you let your friends go,
but even harder when those you cherished
leave you first.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
life is a lot different from what it was back then, it's true
but i can't seem to find a stable phase
i can't seem to find a cure for
restlessness in this peaceful life.
(clean me up from all
remains of white noise.)
why do i feel like i am missing something?
whithering away,
in a wheel, in the wind,
looks all the same to me.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
probably because i have hit
the finishing line
a long,
long time ago.
it's like i have become tangled in
this mess of guts and dust for no reason
and everyone's moving on.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
it feels hard when you let your friends go,
but even harder when those you cherished
leave you first.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
life is a lot different from what it was back then, it's true
but i can't seem to find a stable phase
i can't seem to find a cure for
restlessness in this peaceful life.
(clean me up from all
remains of white noise.)
why do i feel like i am missing something?
whithering away,
in a wheel, in the wind,
looks all the same to me.
why do i feel like i am missing something?
probably because i have hit
the finishing line
a long,
long time ago.
say perhaps to drugs
and then she says,
i have to quit smoking.
and then she says,
she's disappointed in me.
and then she says,
she can't imagine going back.
but she never says:
"i'm weak,
i'm sick,
i'm following tides because i'm tired"
and then she says,
she's in rage.
maybe i am sick.
maybe i am following tides
because i'm tired.
i wonder who is,
i wonder who is.
exctinct suns
i wish i could
try swallow my own tongue
sometimes it hurts
yes it hurts
and then it's all smoke,
see you can
swallow smoke
but i refuse to could up myself
with meaningless lies anymore.
all life has now been reduced
to a promise of you
out of reach
in a glass house
for my delight.
all life has now been reduced
to extinct suns,
forgotten midnights
and empty cinema seats.
i wish i could see your ghost
oh yes i do
maybe then
words wouldn't trip on me
letter #1
i could write you letters.
i could re write my head out for you,
in millions and millions of lines
through which you swim.
lately i've been trapped by
this cement brutality;
i have seen myself lost inside a crowd
of cold-stone faces,
but none of them are afraid,
all of these people,
where do they go?
i'm tired of this beautiful city
where no one looks up,
you see,
we're filled by this modern apathy
every day a little bit more
our hearts become clouded by our duties;
even if there was a sky above,
what good would it serve
this chaos?
i wish you could see all
of your own dismay,
this destruction aids my journey back to you,
and with each step
in this town,
i know i'm retelling your story
for the sake of rememberance
and i don't think i'll ever let you die.
i could re write my head out for you,
in millions and millions of lines
through which you swim.
lately i've been trapped by
this cement brutality;
i have seen myself lost inside a crowd
of cold-stone faces,
but none of them are afraid,
all of these people,
where do they go?
i'm tired of this beautiful city
where no one looks up,
you see,
we're filled by this modern apathy
every day a little bit more
our hearts become clouded by our duties;
even if there was a sky above,
what good would it serve
this chaos?
i wish you could see all
of your own dismay,
this destruction aids my journey back to you,
and with each step
in this town,
i know i'm retelling your story
for the sake of rememberance
and i don't think i'll ever let you die.
finding ashes in cushions
there's a certain karma i can't shake, you see
it's the smoke it infiltrates my skin
and i give up for
sullen and incompetent arguments.
i'm tired, you see,
i've tried inhaling the past but
it just comes back in waves;
you're a catchphrase you can't use;
in certain ways i feel sorry.
again i can't shake myself off
because when i look at you
i think i recognize myself
born on easter day
i was waiting for strangers to greet
on days of ressurrection like
i was the real jesus christ.
all this time ive wasted it in the sun
hoping for more than ive ever given.
restrained to a life of being a bad person,
now i am one.
and then she says she would like to
see me when i'm angry;
in fact her life lacks thunderstorms
and probably she's waiting for lightning.
i'm always down for this
kind of being nice and everyone around me
seem to make me realize
i have to work myself up a lot
before i grow up.
internally i daydream of emancipation
when in reality i'm still the same child
i was yesterday.
baby blue sedan
and it's hard to be a human being
and it's harder as anything else
and I'm lonesome when you're around
and I'm never lonesome when I'm by myself
and I miss you when you're around
yesterday
you know what
fuck you
if you think i'm hard to get
well fuck you
i only ever wanted you
because you wanted me
but my self-esteem is higher than that
go fuck someone else
fuck you
if you think i'm hard to get
well fuck you
i only ever wanted you
because you wanted me
but my self-esteem is higher than that
go fuck someone else
chalk
every day
a little bit more
my skin turns to nicotine
and dust
and for whatever reasons
i seem to choose
so is yours.
i thought it would
not happen to me,
but yet with the
passing of the days
i want to feel the
touch of your hands
and the whisper of your voice
slowly telling me
that i am yours.
your ghostly presence
captivates
the deepest of me
let me share this
transformation with you.
first day at university
suddeny i'm just too scared to grow up. it looks like to me that in a few months my life will completely change, for some reason; i no longer see myself sitting in my desk messing around with social networks. i see myself working and studying and trying to be an adult. i'm not scared of being an adult, in fact i think it is time that i become one, but this may be decisive in my future. i am scared that i'm taking a job purely because i'm in love, because, that's the first reason why i've ever wanted this job. and maybe this love won't last, and hell if anyone knows how unrequited it really is. but inside me, there's a hunch, that this is coming upon me for some reason. i am supposed to be studying what i'm studying for a reason and i'm supposed to take the job for some other reasons. it's all dark, but we're still in march. i think it's a divine sign. i guess i'll have to learn to trust my gut.
lovesong
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
ex-friends
sometimes i wish
a greater force pushed me away
from whatever i seem to hate.
but i apparently,
i have to do so myself.
i'm not really sure how,
because i cared so much about you.
but every time
every day, a little bit more
i get more repulsed.
and i think you have always felt the same about me.
i wish it hadn't ended this way.
but it did.
a greater force pushed me away
from whatever i seem to hate.
but i apparently,
i have to do so myself.
i'm not really sure how,
because i cared so much about you.
but every time
every day, a little bit more
i get more repulsed.
and i think you have always felt the same about me.
i wish it hadn't ended this way.
but it did.
someone please buy me a box of matches
look at all the things i have to burn!
let me list them:
infatuation
(with the wrong person)
misunderstanding
(with my closest)
arrogance
silence
wasted hours on things that didn't pay off
('you're complaining about a B?')
one hundred unsent love letters
and over a thousand poems
directed at the wrong people.
look at all the things i have to burn,
i can't use a lighter.
these things take time to consume,
because i work faster
than any other.
i want to start over
this time i can see it,
i can see the mistakes coming.
but you know what?
i'll have a box of matches.
let me list them:
infatuation
(with the wrong person)
misunderstanding
(with my closest)
arrogance
silence
wasted hours on things that didn't pay off
('you're complaining about a B?')
one hundred unsent love letters
and over a thousand poems
directed at the wrong people.
look at all the things i have to burn,
i can't use a lighter.
these things take time to consume,
because i work faster
than any other.
i want to start over
this time i can see it,
i can see the mistakes coming.
but you know what?
i'll have a box of matches.
going through old entries
oh my gOD
i did love you
it seems so far away but
i loved you jesus christ i did
and look what you did
you fucked up
and now sometimes i glance back
and see you smoking next to me and think-
i loved this person.
but he was always too arrogant to love me back.
i was too arrogant to love him back too.
we're okay
i look at you and now
it's affection-
enough
i suppose
it doesn't burn at least
i did love you
it seems so far away but
i loved you jesus christ i did
and look what you did
you fucked up
and now sometimes i glance back
and see you smoking next to me and think-
i loved this person.
but he was always too arrogant to love me back.
i was too arrogant to love him back too.
we're okay
i look at you and now
it's affection-
enough
i suppose
it doesn't burn at least
13:30, swimming
today i went swimming.
unilike the usual days this time
the pool was quiet and empty.
i arrived earlier but there was no clock
to check that i was right.
i swam slowly,
the water was warm
and felt like a blanket.
i wondered if anyone felt
the same way.
i dived to the bottom
stayed underneath
until my lungs felt like exploding,
and the diver inside me told me
rise.
in the end i
began to swim faster.
every stroke was harsh and my legs,
cunning,
vibrated like crazy turbines without fuzz.
and i reached the end fighting,
thinking about neighborhood #1 (tunnels),
and about how i should
purify my mind.
and there i was,
swimming against warm tides,
skipping breaths,
waging a war no one asked for.
water was no longer a blanket but
the enemy i sought for.
when i reached the other end i sat on the edge
and everything was calm and still again.
i wonder whose head is also a battlefield.
mine is a mess.
unilike the usual days this time
the pool was quiet and empty.
i arrived earlier but there was no clock
to check that i was right.
i swam slowly,
the water was warm
and felt like a blanket.
i wondered if anyone felt
the same way.
i dived to the bottom
stayed underneath
until my lungs felt like exploding,
and the diver inside me told me
rise.
in the end i
began to swim faster.
every stroke was harsh and my legs,
cunning,
vibrated like crazy turbines without fuzz.
and i reached the end fighting,
thinking about neighborhood #1 (tunnels),
and about how i should
purify my mind.
and there i was,
swimming against warm tides,
skipping breaths,
waging a war no one asked for.
water was no longer a blanket but
the enemy i sought for.
when i reached the other end i sat on the edge
and everything was calm and still again.
i wonder whose head is also a battlefield.
mine is a mess.
friday nights
today i did not smoke.
a friend told me i looked pretty
which was weird enough.
people came to talk to me.
today i did begin the night with an anxiety attack,
but it was fantastic.
i felt like though
i don't talk to people much,
they can still miss me
like i miss them.
today i took the bus home
and it rained.
i was wearing a big old yellow coat
and i walked under the rain
at three am
alone.
and though i complain,
i am happy with my life sometimes.
this solitude is not lonely.
you know what?
i like these kinds of things.
they make me feel,
i don't know.
grown up?
a friend told me i looked pretty
which was weird enough.
people came to talk to me.
today i did begin the night with an anxiety attack,
but it was fantastic.
i felt like though
i don't talk to people much,
they can still miss me
like i miss them.
today i took the bus home
and it rained.
i was wearing a big old yellow coat
and i walked under the rain
at three am
alone.
and though i complain,
i am happy with my life sometimes.
this solitude is not lonely.
you know what?
i like these kinds of things.
they make me feel,
i don't know.
grown up?
unfolding notebooks
when someone reads aloud
the trail of conduct i once followed,
the train of accidental misunderstanding,
their voices resound in my head
for longer than echo is expected.
and then i can read myself
playing a pathetic act;
whatever was once full of meaning
now has the aspect of a dead cat.
i never want to see that self again,
that fills me with remorse
and doesn't cure the pain.
i never want to be whomever
made me feel sick and ashamed again.
my words are my dna,
i can't change them.
i stuck my beliefs up in my veins,
they die and regenerate
like cells.
still i can't change what's written,
i can't change the feeling.
and when someone reads aloud
what should only scream inside my head,
i feel disrupted
and wrong.
maybe i should learn not to care.
visits
i wish you were tearing apart my skin
maybe inside you'll find what you've been searching
till two am
and maybe then you'll come outside your shell
who cares,
right?
i am only peeling off
for entertainment
but you know what?
i feel safe
maybe inside you'll find what you've been searching
till two am
and maybe then you'll come outside your shell
who cares,
right?
i am only peeling off
for entertainment
but you know what?
i feel safe
essays about beauty
who values what is beautiful?
because there's no beauty between the lens.
maybe i should grow my fingers,
dye my eyelids transparent,
let the flowers in my throat bloom;
but it's all so uptight,
victim of taxes.
sometimes in sleep
there's this kind of
unreliable epiphany.
i can't distinguish reality these days.
it's all whirlwind,
caught me up;
i see beauty in you and
maybe no one sees it.
am i worth a shot
a flash and
a darker lens?
or will drops keep falling off the table,
like the missed chances i knew i had?
anonymous beauty takes credit
for what we believe we are.
invisible creatures
take on the stage and come out to play,
but i didn't write this script,
mine had a heart and a soul but-
heart and soul are worthless
when you can create sympathies.
the dictators on this island have taken on their decision,
it's not worth the try.
beauty is useless
when you can see it with your eyes.
motion picture soundtrack
red wine and sleeping pills
help me get back to your arms
cheap sex and sad films
help me get where I belong
I think you're crazy, maybe
I think you're crazy, maybe
stop sending letters
letters always get burned
it's not like the movies
they fed us on little white lies
I think you're crazy, maybe
I think you're crazy, maybe
I will see you in the next life
beautiful angel
pulled apart at birth
limbless and helpless
I can't even recognize you
I think you're crazy, maybe
I will see you in the next life
put it out
this place is burning down
the country is on fire
is on fire
is on fire.
with the same seamless words,
we walk through it and
burn our feet,
but i'll let it burn to the ground.
i don't care
nobody cares
why care?
it has all been burnt before
holiday crashers
we were in starbucks
listening to bob dylan
when they told me the
only thing you wanted was
a good fuck.
and suddenly i
with all my fucking
experience in life,
felt threatened by a sixteen-year-old.
i guess i didn't want to
hear the stories they had to tell,
i guess they didn't want to
tell them themselves,
something does not feel right
about the way you fuck up
and cry.
this is all too premature
to know, even for me
some good bonds are
new, i suspect there's
much more to get to trust you.
i feel ashamed of
being afraid, i feel
like an idiot for thinking that maybe
you would want me,
i could like you,
but yet again
you seem to be
just like all the others
who i have met before.
i hope those guys
were good enough for you
to make stories with them
(because they are also
my friends)
and hopefully
i'll be there
to see you grow up.
a love letter to the ocean
oh for how long have we been parted!
i guess you never miss me
as much as i do.
i crave for you every night.
your touch is oh so cold;
staring back at me with the sharpest
kind of weapon salt can offer.
i guess you never understood my reasons.
maybe that's why when i stand too close
your sand pulls my feet beneath,
i wish i would let you swallow me whole,
i wish i could drown in you...
you are the wildest, most precious
deadly beautiful
piece of existence that has ever been.
with you i feel free.
in your company dear i feel
invincible,
light as a feather,
fearless.
this is what you have done to me,
now i don't have you.
but i promise one day
we'll be closer,
we'll be closer to the bottom
to the horizon
to the changing tides.
but the future seems so slow.