stranger's disease

"i wish i believed you when you said that this was my home"



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

in the end i
began to swim faster.
every stroke was harsh and my legs,
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.

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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

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?

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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.




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,
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.

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somehow i'm not impressed (self-portrait)

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