What flawed design is this? Framed by greed, eyed by chance,
Do you think so easily you can entrap me in this dance?
It is a marriage contract in which I have no choice -
I have no ground, no sound, no voice...
I cannot. What? Either it is my future or my siblings' in jeopardy.
I exaggerate - We can afford this, but barely.
Minimum student loan: The bane of many, the burden of many
Burden of unrealistic measures. You ask me to live off borrowed money
On borrowed time? You ask me to learn as others did off reflections from the past,
When time has moved on, and moved on fast?
When the world is barking at these measures, and still it continues,
And I, at risk of being denied an education, cannot refuse
To do things, not just by halves, but by even by eighths.
And would I, I would refuse another year, and hope the Fates
Prove kind. Do they prove kind to those who complain?
Who ever loved a rebel, when the rebel was alone?

I was looking at shoes, as I was two and a half years ago
Off to mark a milestone, as I am now,
And somehow, as before, the shop owner becomes my advisor,
Sagely dispenses wisdom, asks sage questions, a sagesse that I
Do not know, though I feel older than the hills - the lies for
A true veteran to realise, though I will never be older, we can't deny
Than I am now, yet also never younger, in this moment.
It is easy for one that has seen many to guess the torment
Of a young soul - My life is decided in my teens, and I stick with it -
Or not, as they keep telling me - the door isn't closed - I am young;
It doesn't feel that way - it isn't long I was a babe, it isn't long
I have to live, I lie to myself, savouring little and nothing
Except the wine that dulls me further; It doesn't fit;
Nothing fits, into the time-frame I have constructed from something,
A rate, that isn't constant - the change in the perception of time:
There was a time that hours were days, and now days are hours;
And one day, they will be seconds, and soon will years.
It's all too fast, even when I complain it is too slow; where's the rhyme
And reason and rhythm to all of this? I was conceived; the die was cast;
I'm not going somewhere slowly: I'm going nowhere, fast.

There are still clothes I cannot bring myself to sort,
Still papers lying, crumbling, crumpling their worth -
My life is a mess since you hit me out of kilter
And I can't pick myself up, let alone my belongings;
I can't pick up, get up, grow up, let alone filter
What I need and what I don't, as in my longings
I asked for you - I should have asked to long for breath;
Perhaps I'm just enduring cramp now, in this little death
Of mine - Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with a fresh head,
Maybe I'll remember my worth, and not with dread
That I am worth so little to you
Who was just one of a few
One of a few you passed by and left a wake,
Awake. How could you know, sweet rake?
How could I know? Disease can often touch us longer
Than we think; its hold, though weakened, is still stronger.

I walked through life with a rude and fresh arrogance:
I was taught it when I was still a big fish in a small pond,
When I still had a can-do-it-all attitude, when the dance
Was life, and the tune was want, and the performer, fond,
Moved like anything. Anyone. Save Lethe, who dulled me,
Who pulled me under waves when I cursed the sea,
When I thought, to time immemorial, I had the energy
To do anything, go anywhere, be anything I wanted to be -
I lived off borrowed time, and borrowed fire,
And borrowed, all of my once blazing desire
Fed no one, but lost dreams - I reap the harvest now:
I should have been a doctor, and I plough
My lack of care and decision, my blind turning, and the resulting salt,
I trudge through the compost of other unfinished deeds, never to halt -
I never knew the meaning of a battery, even when it ran down;
My phone recharges at night, and I simply squint and frown,
Trying to make sense of a world sensible to girl who used to dream;
Sleeping through waking, as though nothing would be as it would seem.

Darkness fell like my love's feet
Softly o'er the fields of wheat,
O'er the valley, o'er the bridge,
O'er the mountain, o'er the ridge.

And sitting still o'er a blazing fire,
And my heart blazing with desire,
Dark is the fire, I still confide,
Compared to the eyes of my would-be bride

And blazing like my heart, my mind,
For that your kindred could not find
That I had will where had not kind,
So to our love were deaf and blind.

And rove I will to seek my worth
And rove I'll o'er this whole earth
And though beside you I mayn't lie
We'll share an earth and share a sky.

Perhaps, one day, Fate will prove fair
And let me pledge to you my care.
For now, our love benighted be -
Hope, soon, we shall a sunrise see.

Si vous n'avez rien à me dire,
Pourquoi venir auprès de moi ?
Pourquoi me faire ce sourire
Qui tournerait la tête au roi ?
Si vous n'avez rien à me dire,
Pourquoi venir auprès de moi ?

Si vous n'avez rien à m'apprendre,
Pourquoi me pressez-vous la main ?
Sur le rêve angélique et tendre,
Auquel vous songez en chemin,
Si vous n'avez rien à m'apprendre,
Pourquoi me pressez-vous la main ?

Si vous voulez que je m'en aille,
Pourquoi passez-vous par ici ?
Lorsque je vous vois, je tressaille :
C'est ma joie et mon souci.
Si vous voulez que je m'en aille,
Pourquoi passez-vous par ici ?

Mai 18...

That which feeds, it also starves
By its memory. Life doesn’t do halves.
And life does halves, but people never do.
Tell me it’s false, or tell me it’s true,
I’ll believe both, but nothing in between
One would **** her too, they who say they love the queen
Just so, my love, you are both my hatred and my dearest
But passion – it picks the nearest
Extreme, extreme to the point of screaming
Dissembling, duplicitous, and seeming
But I will call it one or the other
God or vermin, foe or brother
You are all one and the same
And there is no distinction and no shame
From swinging – flame
The flame is the same
Always, we hate and love with one
We fixate on one
And fixation is both
Care and wrath
Emptiness consumes
And so assumes
Plenty, and excess is a vacuum
And I may surfeit of nothing and everything
No, I do not presume
I KNOW (nothing) and can(not) describe everything
So dear, when you call me “pain” and answer me not
I shall not assume I am forgot
Because in the very act of trying, or doing
Away with the memory of me, my memory still persists
And my absence insists
On my presence, and I am still your making, and undoing.