that we exist
that we are whole
that we are worthy
that we are accepted
that we are respected
that we are connected
that we are appreciated
that we are of consequence

that we even matter at all...

She reads
                                          And she sleeps
                                                      Way too much
                                                            ­           It's her coping defence
                                                                ­               When nothing else will suffice
                                                         ­               She needs to get away
                                                       Without actually leaving
                                             Because she's too scared
                                   And too tired
                                            To leave her bed
                                                      So she cracks open a book
                                                            ­     To escape somewhere far away
                                                            ­             And she'll sob for the characters
                                                      ­                       Whose brokenness resembles hers
                                                            ­                                   And then she'll sleep
                                                           ­                                   And have sweet dreams
                                                          ­              Of realities that are not her own
                                                       Because pretending is so much easier
                                                 Than facing reality
                             So she'll sleep and dream
          And secretly wish she won't wake up
So she can finally escape

Who am I?
What am I?
I am a girl who can't ever be defined by few words

How do you define something you have never come across?
How do you define what you have came across, but don't know how to describe correctly?
And you can only describe it in a few words
The words aren't enough
It's a part of what I am
But not who I am
How do I define myself so I can fix myself?

Everyone is a mystery to themselves
I know what I do or don't like and what my intentions are
I'm sure everyone else does

But who am I?
What is my essence?

I thought I defined myself before
But those are only words that could change at any moment

I am still those words
But
I think there's more to me than just those few words

Who am I I ask
I say *I am myself

Do you ever think about how you are you,
as a conscious being.
everyone else is only as themselves.
What is it like to be them?
What do they think about?
What makes them happy?
You are you and they are they
It cannot be changed.
I'm me and that's all I know as life, you're you and that's all you know as life.
We both are alive but only as
ourselves.

I lie here in this tortured state
Not sure of how to breathe
And when my chest rises and falls
My soul searches for reprieve.

it is still tomorrow
make more room for the  past
into the future
the rhythm of our time is in
the narrative perhaps

I was too often said to be
crazy like one grandma
not odd enough I’ve always felt
like being born out of  my papa -
two knives in the same sheath
cause papa Zeus was devouring his child

so one day came when
I was drowning  in my blood
-confessing can be hard and bitter-
crooked with incessant need to love
I let each morning scream
acts of imagination and lonesome tears were
craving for some tender understanding
terror instead of midnight dreams
I was a beggar  burdened with awe

(all I ever wanted was You – mother,
you-father,
you-brother,
you-lover,
you-friend&foe;
you-the Other)

now if you think words are just words
you’re sooooo mistaken
living creatures they are
breeding selfhood
torching the shadows cast by feelings
in intensity

thus I took refuge in the future
-the deserted island of our best illusions-
enclosed myself in a dream
against the movements of pain
dismantling, maddening

it's only now that I can speak about myself
in the third person
"wo Es war, soll Ich werden"
so let the light explode in the windshield
it doesn’t matter where I’m heading
as long as I’m a lullaby
and You’re singing with me

Look deep into my soul
Through eyes of pale blue
You'll see my one hope
My child and you

Of nothing else
Am I sure
In this world and our life
Save our love for each other
As husband and wife

Beloved life we've created
And nothing more shall I crave
From this moment forward
Till I lie in my grave

Believe me my love
When I tell you this truth
That nothing can touch us
Not here in our world

The world we've created
From a love that is true
Where nothing else matters
Save me,our child and you

So many things are swimming through my mind right now.
So many thoughts, memories, emotions, and demons.
They float by like sheets of ice,
chilling me down to the deepest part of my broken soul,
making me numb.
Their compositions are so complex I avoid them for my sanity.
My mind is so distortedly dysfunctional.
It's filled with an infinite number of all these things,
but if I focus on one of them for too long, my mind pushes them out of reach.
My mind is a vast labyrinth guarded by sarcasm, bitterness, and a mask of composure,
filled with wastelands, trenches, and locked doors.
Only those that are patient will ever find the vault at its very center,
and even then, my mind is nearly impossible to crack.
This vault is like no other.
It's one that you never
                                                        want
                                                                                      to
                                                                                                             open.

Despite my mind's shortcomings, it's quite clever in this one sense.
The vault contains demons so repulsive, so revolting, so disturbingly terrifying,
why, my mind can't even remember what it put there.
But at night, as my mind pulls at dreams,
the vault is most unfortunately opened when my guard is down.
I sometimes wake up breathless,
with only faint recollections of the nightmarish memories and demons that my mind conjured and unleashed in slumber.
As suddenly as I awaken, the dark matter of my mind retracts back into the vault before I have much else to do.
I then peel myself off of my bed, scrape the attempt of a smile out of the gutters of my soul, and go about my day.
There are other times when the solid walls of my mind melt away for reasons I cannot explain.
Everything then swims through my mind,
all the darkness of it tugging at the back of my consciousness,
wearing away at my thought process,
and filling up my mind with hazy grief.
Nonetheless, the vault of my mind is better off locked.

However, by design, a vault must have a key to open it.
The key to mine takes many different forms,
and the interesting part is, I don't know what the key looks like.
From day to day, my mind is an imposing, impenetrable fortress,
to the point where even my own mind can't determine its complexity.
I live each day, watching, searching,
dreading the day when I finally find what frees my mind
from its nightmares, secrets, and its vault.

Rolling
           down
             the rabbit
                hole--
under the stars
      s w a y i n g
like shisha smoke
gypsy dancing hips sway lips smile wide
         sound
       sight light taste all one
echoes swirl around we twirl
         like whirling dervish
leaving our bodies--
leaving the tube
joining each other's saltwater skin
bathing in
       our conscious one
       our conscious AUM
as the midnight sapphire ocean's white foam splashes over
every ONE of us.
The shooting stars dance with us--
the air dances             with us
the water dances        with us
Jack & coke's dance inside us
between our toes
the sand dances        with us
the hash dances        with us
as we are
just being
JUST BEING!
LIVING!