She resides on the street outside my office,
from sleepy mornings to crowded nights.
Apparently we share the same working hours.
The hands of Norther has begun to claw
through coats and bones with greediness.
And I worry that she might catch the cold.
Her patient resilience and humble posture,
head bowed down, hand stretched out
constricts my heart in terrified recognition.
She looks like a queen dethroned.
Where was her kingdom before this street?
She seems ageless but infinitely ancient.

I wonder...

What’s it like to watch legs pass you by,
briskly stomping away in annoyance.
How dare she remind us about the flaws of life.
That we are less human than we admit
behind our busy faces and comfortable shoes.
What’s it like begging for plated coins,
when you’ve sacrificed everything
in a foreign country digging for gold?
Humiliation convolutes my heart
every time the ignorant titter of the young
and the turned away faces of the old
depreciate her existence.

Despite my fidgeting just minutes ago
I slowed down by the corner,
searching an answer in her fathomless eyes,
The story of sacrifice is clasped in her hands,
a framed picture of a boy and a girl.
The scribble on it says: ”Please help,
me and my children are starving.”
I knelt beside her,
shyly stroking her weathered hand
before placing the hot Chai by her side
and laying down my tribute in her paper cup.
Her hand held warmth,
when grasping mine, lifting it to her lips.
The kiss and gentle blessing startled me.

Rising to my feet again and heading back
to my comfortable office...
...it started to rain.

I'm off to save the world.
The only cure for someone
who don't know how to save herself.
Can the world thrive on saviours
Who are driven by demons?
I know nothing of self preservation
but my arms hold so much determination
that there should not be any question
about the outcome.
I'm off to save the world.
And I don't shed one drop of fear
about the price of salvation

Lace my bones with threads
that will not break.
Inhale the breath of faith
between my lips.
Hold eternity with feathers
never to restrain.
I’m still mourning the dying sun,
terrified he’ll never rise again.
And even when the blue death
of twilight takes my hand.
I still turn around
to catch a glimpse of the light
that died.

Panic attack

It doesn't matter
how many infatuated knights
I've brought to my table,
The hollow whisper of you
still echoes in my mind.
And the cold comfort
of sleeping with substitutes
only leaves the heart bereft.
Our flower bed tumbled
with naked leaves entwined
with Forget-me-not’s
and breathless kisses,
was never meant to turn
into a ****** killing field.
And yet it did.

There's a fear in me I can't deny.
That the memory of us
madly tearing each others hearts out,
while ripping each others clothes off
will eventually start to dissolve
like an unholy ghost in the wind.
Denial and terror at the same time.
Because what would become of me,
if my fractured soul would let
the hollow whisper to return?

Diary confessions

I’m in a vicious state of mind,
no siren calls to stem the putrid inferno
burning my mind to charcoal,
petrifying it to unblemished obsidian.
Words of love don’t reach me,
silly human endearments bore me,
touch me and I’ll slice your hands off.
It’s not good, they tell me.
But I will build my armory.
Until this warped, traitorous world
can be wrenched, twisted, hammered
back into hinges,
that I have complete control of.
Silence...
Finally

Testament of a panzer maiden

A last word whispered
Before we go quietly into the night.
No more stars to light our way
No more colors painting our dreams.
We loved, lived fiercely
Tumbling through storms of imagination.
Too late now for reruns
Much too late for serenades.
Ghostly hands caressing
every particle of our beings.
Chance glimmered like the morning star through veils of sensibility.
Ripping apart matter of physical logic,
Shoving reasons far, far behind doors
meant to lock out mad desires
haunting spells and sweet promises...
But
despite all the rationals
and hopeless day dreaming.
Believe me when I tell you.
You are loved.
Never forgotten.
Always my only.
And destined for
whatever your heart want.
Be true to faith
Aim high.
The answer is not to know it all
But to believe.

Legacy of Z

The moon has turned his dark on me.
But I still beg to use his pale eyes
fetching the last glimpses of desire.
And even if you no longer care for
my morning kisses on your thighs
and my moonlight caresses in the night.
I still need to feel
the thrumming harmony
of you slipping inside my shields.
How deeply you’ve plunged into
the inner core of me.
Perfect fit and yet
a distant hologram of
a lover held in my dreams alone.

I’ll never be fulfilled.
unless I forget your splendor.
You shine, like no other.
Your bright was my ultimate high.
And within all my incapable
and impotent denial.
I did try to rub away
the golden fingerprints of you.
But now I’ve come to despair
that they will ever disappear.