You can't muster so much as half a laughter
In a room full of familiar strangers
On a Wednesday night
Like most Wednesday nights
When we're off to do our own things
On different corners
Different worlds

I cannot laugh either
Being lost in my abandoned words
Trying to write you a letter
Only to watch the ink smeared
All over my thoughts
Every Wednesday night

I simplify things
that are hard
to remember
or
to forget

With time
they all fade; and I,
among a billion things I create,
turn into nothing

I get it – the blues of voices blurred into a shared distance,
restless eyes upon the prize of recognition
never larger than their own.

It is not the first time I see swollen pride
but it makes me ashamed of myself
to see the mirrors of my species blinding one another.

If only could we drop it
and let us become true,
at least,
to ourselves.

You left, because you had come.
You arrived where you belonged.

Five years ago, when we first met,
I did not know we would become the best of friends.

I did not know
I would feel like this.

In the evening we said goodbye, an unnameable feeling slowly rose in my heart.
When I got home I could not hold it in anymore - and so it burst.

That feeling which suffocated me could not be described with words.
Only with tears.

I have cried many times in my life.
Every time it has been difficult.

But ever since then, well into the next morning,
I would never again be the person I was that evening.

some lives are god's intentions gone wrong


executed way beyond kindness:

dreams taken away, dismembered, thoroughly un-remembered
&
smiles dissected to the core, where sadness lies, falling apart in broken nights
&
words scrambled with silenced anger, spoken in tone of non-lovers
&
kisses numbed by a million thoughts dying in the mind, slipping down against low sighs
&
teardrops clogged in eardrums, blowing up the misery of the moment


dark moods today?
no.
this is life, simply.
that is
all.

In a drop of a moment,
I am taken back
to the way I used to feel.

It makes no sense at all
to feel that way now.
(But why this heavy sadness
pressing against my chest?)
(And why these tears
falling against my will?)

Can I be me
but not this way of me?
Can I preserve memories
so that they'll never be lost
without remembering where they're stored?

To be myself - does it mean:
I must string together
all my broken pieces
to be complete?
(But can I be whole like this?)

Did I ever get what I wanted
or drown myself in thirst?

What makes me
is essentially what breaks me
without the final fatal strike.

Eventually I always return
from these tiny chaotic bursts -
perhaps once again
having altered my world
for good.

you strip and fall
upon uneven surfaces
of irritation.

this is the last of your dreams
before the nightmares begin,
behold.

every splash is accompanied by a silent scream.
you beg and beg to return to reality
but no mercy is ever given.

you have lost hope.
you cannot make it up
to your gods.

your voice is gone,
deep under the sea
melodies of bubbles.

i say hello to the sky, and i say goodbye
to the nights that ended on a morning like this,
with sunlight embracing the brick walls
and the winds around brown trees' arms,
together laughing and dancing.

here i quietly sing along with the rhythm of spring.
the windows finally open, for it is hard to turn away
from a brisk, beautiful day, from the wishes
of the lover who insists we shall be on our way,
taking passionate laughters towards the beaming park.

it takes longer to walk with arms around shoulders,
but the young does not care about time, does she?
she swirls in rhymes, bringing forth her own tunes of shine.
she has made me once again remember
the liveliness which follows the ache of winter.

Sun, and a very pale blue sky
I was here many sunny days before*

Summer is close,
and I am afraid
I will not survive the walls of heat
closing in on us.
We bend our backs grasping for air
only to drown ourselves deeper in tears;
tears that burn
the way tomorrow burns out today.
The sun only brings me fear.

Today has burned out yesterday.
The sun is near
I'm still here.
I've got nowhere to go.

The sunrays pass by my closed eyelids
bringing me by a thousand years.
I am going through the infinite nowhere.
Will you be there?

Will you remember
the last day of light on earth
when we smiled at each other
before we no longer
belong to a reality
lit by sunlight?

Here comes the explosion
of the last fire.
Goodbye,
my Love.

Tonight death has come to my bed
leaning over to kiss me on my forehead.
“Your wait is over”, I hear the whisper.
Who would not surrender to something so tender?
Yet I wish what remains of life gave me enough time
To kiss you on your forehead before I die.
When you wake up in the morning,
I would have left before the birds sing.
What saddens me is not my departure;
But whether grief will leave your eyes ever.
Will you still see beauty and able to laugh
Or miss me too much you end up going daft?
Love still remains after the end of so many lives;
Nothing truly ends when something dies.
And if you ever forget me, dear, if you do,
I will already have forgiven you.

I lean to the side of the world          where  my wound is
burst, this is the surface of madness
called reality.
You ask me what my name is
I answer you with yours.

The last of music drips onto my left arm
Leaves me cold.
A cold I do not remember.
Maybe I have not left the realm of death
where my mother comes from.

Unless today has become tomorrow
Unless your promises have come true
I will not see
I will not taste
My memories
Under the wind that swept by my nostrils

Who are you talking to?
Does he suffer from the same realization as I?
Life has left my fingertips
I no longer decipher the truth behind our words

All I do is dance.
Dance through the alphabet of the human beauty
an eternal misery.
Nothing is worth as much to me as the familiar warmth of your kisses on my eyes
bringing all the colors of life to my sight.
Nothing has the magic your hand has upon my skin
All the wounds from knowing and not knowing are healed.

Just love.
Love is what I have concluded by you.
Find it,
find the way we want to go
through the path of my smile sliding down your face.

Open me to the territory you have never entered yourself.
For me you will not cry.
Every moment gives birth to another.
We are children who fall in love – always at the verge of growing up
and contented with just that – lying on the sea to see
how the clouds have been here always
so we know they have never once come back.
Neither will we, but we laugh and cry, and the days and nights
open into a million stars that light up whenever I look at you,
whenever I turn away to feel you on the back of my neck.

Our tranquil jest
No need to explain any sadness - it is our friend.
Just like happiness of a glamourous day
When you take me to the cliff and we both jump
to fall upon the wide blue sky
Never have I seen anything so blue
Never have I seen anything like you
Cold and smiling and so incredibly beautiful

I think
[we are still falling]
I really do
Love you

This place has no sympathy for your suffering.
You wonder what has taken you so long to get up and leave.
Your feet are cold, your eyes are frozen.
Even the most burning tears cannot find their way down to your heart.
The pain you know you are supposed to feel is already lost somewhere.
You cannot make out what in you remains with this world
or what is left of this world in you.

The day is over with no opened doors.
You have met the night many times before.
But this time
you no longer look forward to the possibility of a warm smile upon your shattered soul.
Thus you slowly gather your emotions
and dump them into the trash barrel next to your old lover's home
where your laughters of a shared past are replaced by those of a foreign present.
She will never know who left the bag there
or care to find out what could be in it.

Life already left you, but you are not yet touched by death.
Being trapped in between
you still detect momements of images behind your irises,
react miserably to changes in temperature,
smell the filthiness of reality under your eyebrows,
and long to meet with a certain something you have given up waiting for.

This is not what it seems to be,
but you do not know what it is.
What can you do to turn away from being nowhere and feeling only nothingness?
How can you hope for a change if nothing really changes?
Time has fixated you to this confined sensory awareness.
You are you or maybe there has been no you.
What about her? How did she get to where you were before leaving it?
Was she truly there, if thisrighthererightnow is no longer around your last breath?

i finally knew
the scope
of my world
yes

it is only as big
as the days and nights
framed
within the window panes

i will not dive into it
nor can i run away
from the everyday changing
of lighting

do not
let me escape
this floating scent of alcohol berries
under my throat

i wish you would
hold me down
and kiss me until my eyes bleed
tears

you at seven in the afternoon
left me in some sort of nonsensical dream
i have learned to make myself
delighted

by sitting here
watching the night slowly
disguising the color of my skin
what is its true color will i ever know

i have given in
to the light
and the lack of it
so i could get along with time

my heart and soul
are given to you
i only need to keep this numbness
underneath my eyelids

you keep
inside the same clothing drawer
where your medicine bottles scatter
the gift she gave you

what remains of the life you had before me
and the love you had before me
or perhaps
you still do

i only have my
silence
the temporary escape
as cheap as a six-pack of mood-cooler

the windows of the house at the street's end
were already lit
i wonder what kind of stories
are going on behind them

do they read like mine
feel like mine
do they make somebody cry
too

there are so many things i do not know
where we are
where we are going
where we are meant to be

it is here
the dark
that will soon reunite me with
my lonely nightmares

there are times
when all i need is a certain
trigger
that will send me away
in a flash
so i do not have to look back
so i do not have to worry
of what might follow

it is
one thirty-seven in a monday afternoon
and i am just waiting
for that trigger
to click

that day, the world was beautiful because of you,
but i, long before the dawn, knew there would be no hope
in staying, and yes, i think you are my world
when i am with you. but that is not the point,
that is not the point at all. the origin of our feelings
had nothing to do with where we were going,
nothing to do with the saddest of days and nights,
and the tears that we shed at the wrong times,
and the loving words we spoke at the few times
when we thought we were in love. there were moments
and there were others. i could not carry you at all times
in my conscience. do you understand? i do not hate you, no,
it is quite the contrary. much so quite the contrary.
i do not need anybody else in the name of fairness
and common sense. but i do want you. times when i
thought everything was coming to an end i
thought of you, wanting to rush to you and say
"i love you" exactly how i used to wish someone,
just one, only one, would say it to me.
but the current of life and this shameful desire to live
always dragged me back, not letting me leave.

i do not mean to make you wait until the lights go off
to bare my soul to you,
to overwhelm you with undivided attention
(not the kind i have always given you in our presence,
but one that gives you the strongest sense of eternity,
the only time when death loses its charm and power.)
i do not mean to bring those tears upon your eyes.
but grief makes a person whom he is
while happiness makes him whom he thinks he wants to be.
are you whom you want to be? are you when i am holding you tight
in my arms, hearing my breath pacing against your heartbeats?

when i am with you
i am not whom i am or whom i want to be
but exactly what i must be if life is real, and death is also real,
and nothing else matters but the truth of you.

you asked me with tears down at your throat how i felt about you
how i truly felt about you, not how i thought you would want to be perceived. so here it is.
i am sorry that there are and always will be
disappointments. but disappointments, more often than not,
are so much needed for us not to lose touch with our truest feelings,
don't you think?

mother.-
"why can you spend so much time
writing all this sappy bullcrap
but cannot study hard
to get good
grades?"

math teacher, senior high school.-
"why do you write such good poetry
but **** so bad
at math?"

acquantainces/maybe friends, anygradeinanyschool.-
"hey
your poetry sounds pretty good
i just
don't understand
what you are trying
to say."

writing instructor, free elective course, college.-
"your poetry is really good
for someone whose first language is
not english."

lover.-
"you are good at writing poetry,
but besides that,
you just seem clueless
almost
dumb
most of the time
you cannot hear
what i say
nor can you understand
much of it.
it seems like
you are lost
in your own world,
have conversation with me
in your head."

i want to blame all these people
for making me think
i must be really good
at poetry
for i hardly am
in anything else
that actually
matters.

night
flows peacefully over me
as i sink further
from the surface of the sea

i cannot
see you
any more

you
you of the beauty that cuts through my heart
you of a million years i have been waiting
not having known i would finally meet you
you of the last melody that brought me to tears
i always thought i could no longer cry
you
moved me

i never imagined
i would love someone like you
love anyone the way i loved you
never thought
i would ever dream of the ocean
and its waves of the darkest moments

i would have lost
my final argument
had the first light of dawn caught my eyes

love
felt so kind
unlike other emotions that i
learned
to feel

you
i am sorry
i never told you
it was my last kiss
i could ever give
i am sorry
i could not have given you all of me
though i devoted to you more of me
than i possibly could have to any soul
alive or dead

you
how could you ever
belong to this world

i missed you so terribly
i almost turned around
to run into your arms
but there was no star out tonight
to guide me back to you
i
lost it

you
will always be
my
       and my only
love

dear lord,

please

take me back
to where I do not belong

take me away
from where I do not belong

I like sleeping with your arm under my head,
you holding me close to the skin above your heart,
occasionally running your fingers through my hair.

Sometimes I turn away from you
only to enjoy more the warmth of your embrace from behind my back.

I like it when you rest your head over my chest.
I love the way our fingers intertwine.
I like breathing in your familiar scent.
I like sensing your presence around me
especially when I first open my eyes in the morning
to see you right there.

Many times the comfort makes me not want to wake up,
so I could stay right by your side for a little longer, and a little longer.
I wish those moments had extended into eternity
as long as eternity involves you,
as long as your heart involves me.

Tonight, once again, just seems like a very silly joke
with me lying on my bed without you next to me.
How am I going to feel in the morning
if my heart already aches this way at night?

I want to crawl back into your arms.
Sleep like a baby with you.
I want to feel you as my world,
one completely separated from the one that is separating us.

next time
I see a train coming fast enough
I will not
fail

it doesn't really matter
that one day in the winter
you were mesmerized watching her
lick tiny transparent bubbly flakes of snow
that fell upon her tongue

but ever since, whenever your skin is closest to me,
your eyes turn away from mine.
you can't bring yourself to look into my soul and see yours,
can you? our love is something you must convince yourself
to be true. you have been through many things like this
even your kisses have worn out. you have no desire of me
except for the madness of my words - encouraged by your
apparent existence in the world and within
my own. you are the worst pretender i have ever met
and the most sincere soul of misery i have
ever loved.  i'm sorry for the pain you have brought
upon yourself because you long for pure love, true love,
and you can't afford to break my heart the way
someone else broke yours. so you stay, so you smile,
so you do what you think will make my sadness a bit
easier. you think so, you do. you didn't think i would
be able to hear the silent sigh you left
on the side of my neck as I held on
to your arms during the loneliness of a
cold winter night

this song is for you and me as we walk hand in hand
away from it all
knowing we will from now on go forever
into the breadth of our longest winter
that spreads itself over the course
of a slow white death

What if you lost me to the other side of the Earth?
What if you were always the dark side of my heart?
We move in the same direction but we never meet
We only share mutual passion in our own heartbeats

What if you left everything behind
while I left everything forward?
Our shoulders touch and I turn away
Only to feel your hand guiding me back right under your face

What if you had left me die in my sleep?
You would stay alive, for me you would weep
One day someone else would come your way
You would reach for her hand and ask her to stay

It will be okay you say, it will be okay
For love to exist only in this fate
We wipe our tears to laugh out loud
Our misery is our eternal vow

We dance, fight, drag each other to the ground
The pain all over my body makes me aroused
As long as you are there I have someone to blame
We play the game of putting each other to shame

I am dead only because you are too
Look how much life we need to go through
Light another smoke, let this day burn out
Let me remember love the way I do now

I love the contrast of our skins against each other.
Can we just lie like this for a little longer
Just stay there;
it isn't over when it's over.
Stay,
it will come back.
Believe me,
true love never truly leaves.

I tie your love all around my wrist
so you won't go.
I can't let you go.
Freedom is only granted
in the most secure prison:
my suicidal innocence.
Think you know me? Think again.
We both knew one day there'd be pain.

Think you know love? Why, it's sad.
If this weren't love I would have already left.
But you, my love, don't you see?
You've never really loved me.
Enough with our tragic romance
What can we do to let each other go?
I no longer know how to
Do you?

You're always somewhere else.
I'm never here.
What is the chance of us ending up
together?

And yet it happened one autumn night
right upon our curious lips,
in between our intertwined fingers,
as the candle flickered to tell us
where we were. I forgot our spacetime
as you slowly broke opened
my heart. You found your way in
and for the first time I felt comfortable
being exposed, vulnerable, explored,
entered. Your growing presence became
more and more filling. I'd never known
I had so much emptiness.
It was my first time
feeling lonely no more
in the world.

Thank you for having brought
my lost little heart home
with yours.

we join each other under our eyelids
your skin give my fingers the most gentle kiss
I feel your breath upon my right cheek
as your legs slowly embrace mine

I could taste the aroma of the night
as you're holding my tongue around your lips,
your palm running down my thigh
your heart thrusting against my chest

your hardness poking under my belly button
my throbbing love waits for you, as it always does,
you come look for it which you diligently worship
taking me to a height I've never risen to before

pain, lust, and everything else that comes with this,
whatever this is, this that drowns me in insanity,
turn our dreams into reality, so we believe
that you have I have always meant to be

I only want to remember this night exactly like this
because I know the nights before and after,
as our souls grow apart, because we must,
my memories will torture me, make me suffer

it is quite alright. I have become good friends
with my tears. They soothe me, tell me as long as
I allow them to come, I will be fine eventually.
tonight, just take me away from my mind

far away from my painful mind


I love you so much

you ****** so hard

it hurts

one day, he woke up,
and the day felt like a thousand others.
he reached for the phone and texted her.
she did not respond.
maybe work was busy, he thought.
the day went by. he put
lots of creamer and sugar
in his coffee. the coffee spilled
over the counter, dripped
onto the floor. he sighed and
wiped it carelessly, so it smeared
into brown patches and lines.
he got a book and started to read.
then he put it down and grabbed the phone again.
still no reply from her. he sent another text, asking
where she was. maybe she was very busy, he thought.
the afternoon arrived. he took a nap.
got into a bad dream. something happened,
he forgot. he almost always forgot why
he had cried hopelessly in such dreams.
she still did not write him back.
he wondered if he should call her.
but maybe not.
she got annoyed when work was busy and he called her and she could not talk right away, for she would not stop wondering what it was that he wanted to talk about. and it would probably lead to a small argument, which would lead to bigger arguments, which would end up with her being in tears and him feeling guilty, which would end up with them trying to make it up with ***, which would end up with him not being able to come, which would end up with her feeling upset because he could not come, and him feeling incompetent because she could not come either, and them being all melancholic and what not, and so on and so forth.
so he decided it was best not to call her.
she did not come home at the usual hour.
he kept glancing at the door, peaking his ears to noises from the street
the way a dog waited for its owner to be home at a certain time.
with every passing minute he grew more and more worried.
he texted her again. then immediately after called her.
and he called and he called and he called.
it kept going into voice mail.
he hated voice mail. he left her a few messages.
no responses.
she got home a few hours after,
looking tired as usual. apologized for being late.
said traffic was bad, then she got too hungry she
stopped at a diner and had a quick bite.
she wanted to call him but there was no reception.
her phone was acting up.
something like that.
he did not really smell food from her
not that he had enough time to take a sniff
for she had gone straight to the bathroom
to take a shower. when she got out,
he was sitting at the table, staring into the air
into nothing. her scent was soft, familiar,
and he could feel her smile and gaze upon him.
she sat down and kissed the side of his forehead,
asked him if he had eaten dinner.
he said he was not hungry. she took his hand,
placed her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
they sat still for a few minutes. then he asked
if she wanted anything from the fridge.
i would have some apple cider, she said.
he got them some apple cider. they drank it.
then she said let's go to bed.
he followed her. they got into bed,
turned the head lamp off, kissed each other good night,
and closed their eyes.
he wondered what was on her mind.
she wondered what was on his mind.
and they kept wondering
until they both
fell asleep.

Give me a sky full of stars,
give me you,
then I shall have nothing to lose.

Walk me through the woods
of your true sanity.
Let me take you on our own trail.
You could tell
from the sounds of broken leaves,
dried branches, and sparkling stars,
no one else has ever gone this far
to find love.

Hands in each other's coat pocket,
we walk toward the
empty center of our hearts,
listen to our favorite music,
the soundtrack of the night
while the stars are dancing to the notes of our voices,
laughters, and the warmth of our fingers
upon each other's smiles.

Take me home with your eyes,
leave our field of stars behind.
It will be there if we come back.
*Even if we never will.

You wrap me in the crumbled foil and
  burn me, breathe me in
    slowly, and I rise,my soul
       in each blow of smoke
          into the air, as you keep some of it
             to yourself. I keep wondering
          how long I truly last,
       every time you put me on fire.
Maybe you do not remember.
               You have long forgotten what it means
                                                    to be addicted to me.
        I am something you just do
                out of a habit you have had
        and it no longer means anything to be gotten rid of
              so you keep me here, and whenever you wrap me
                 in aluminum,
              I would slowly vanish into the air,
         fill up your soul, and
                                             deepen your emptiness.

Even when I am not thinking of you,
I am always thinking about you.
The shadow of the thought involving you
is enough to make me smile,
give me hope, let time slide
down the sides of my eyes
along with the most bitter of my tears
So what remains is no longer fear;
just a calmness I have never felt before
as I slowly set myself on an endless desire
Maybe you really are
my life.

Maybe I need nothing else
but a short moment of truth
masked with expectations
and prior experience.
Maybe you need nothing else
but a single audience
who can never demystify any of your tricks
Maybe all we need is a mutual feeling
or rather, the exact same wish.
What do I know if you never tell?
It is hard, so hard to believe
either of us deserves any of this
We finally see, with our own eyes,
what it is like to be seen
how it feels like to be held
where it hurts the most to be loved.

I doubt I truly feel any of this.

Maybe I'm just too full of ****
to actually know
how to return your love.
But I do not mind, and nor do I care,
when I am with you life seems utterly fair
and makes perfect sense
I would never have to ask
if you are feeling the same way I do.

Even if life stopped right here
I would not be so upset
for my only regret
would be just one:
I could never tell you before I die
how much you make me want to stay alive
in this world
this very world

why don't you sit down with me
and watch the day go by?
I never did it before they
sent me to this place.

it is not as scary
as you think.
in fact, it is so quiet
even its ghosts are leaving.
the youngest ones at least.
the oldest are too tired to dream
of a better place, and thus
have decided to stay,
and every night
we talk about the past,
of how things used to be.

they tell great stories
for they stop telling lies
after their lives, long lives.
so many memories,
it would take more than eternity
to revisit each and every of them
try to understand what it means
and forget all of the what-if's.

if letting go is so difficult for the dead,
imagine how it is like for the living.

and so I have learned to forgive
myself, and those around me -
loved ones or strangers.
though I wish I could tell them
to take it easy, love life,
love love, appreciate,
do all the things that make them happy.
they will have all the time in the world
to ponder sadness, to be resentful,
to weep, to scream
afterwards.

so, young one, in your busy life,
once in a while,
give yourself a little time
to feel the angle of the winds,
know the depth of your living sky,
catch the color of the raindrops,
learn that every tree is different from one another
and you could recognize each of them
like the faces you have known.

and every once in a while,
close your eyes,
and open up your soul
to feel the grand stillness of time
that lasts forever in a single kiss,
to be caressed
by the fragile tenderness
of love.

these are some of the things
I have learned from the living
and from the dead.
you shall listen
to both, or either,
but not those who are dead
while they are still breathing.
they do not know where to go,
and thus, cannot give you directions.
if they try, you will either be hurt with a lie,
or a desperate attempt they make to feel alive
through you.

thank you for visiting.
if you ever come back,
bring me some stories
about the sea, for all of us here
long to go there, but we can only
recall and imagine it.
I long to feel the water
all around me.
its depth and vastness
are the dream we have
about a place where we can
completely
let go.

What if we are just characters
in someone else's dream?
What happens when he wakes up?
Will he remember us?
Will I remember you?

Somebody once told me,
in our tender embrace,
"Love is all there is."

I told him to take it day by day,
to live and love in the very moment.
For I would probably leave him the next.

He took my advice
and stayed in love with me
every single moment he existed.

I only exist in fragments of time,
and so is my love.
You had me whole
in a night of tenderness.
I knew kindness and bliss
enough to turn you into a sweet memory.

"Why can't it happen again?
Why do you have to turn me into a memory
the moment you walk out of that room?"
You said I lived and loved
as a story teller.
Quite a story you were.

I cannot keep killing you,
but you are not able to let me go.
Perhaps I am not either.

Thus I wonder how to write a wonderful story
without having it falling in love with me
or myself falling in love with it.

Poetry of the ones who are lonely
are not the same as poetry the ones who are lonely
without someone.

I have always known,
once I let you into this room called my heart,
it will never feel the same when you leave.

And yet I do, I do again and over,
you are my every lover, my any lover,
I have never stopped loving you.

You are the life of my words.
My readers do not know you, but they too,
have known how any love could hurt.

Poetry hurts because poetry is love
and because poetry is you.
Without you I would never have found inside myself a poet.

The world could do with one less lover. One less poet.
But I could not have become me without you and my poetry.
And the meaning of my life is just as simple as that.

Let me take you to the realm of the past.
You know it was not pretty, you know it was sad.
But it was me before you arrived;
I was darkness before you were light.

I went through many lifetimes, many fights,
many women, many regrets.
I've never stopped loving any of those eyes
when they looked at my back as I left our beds.

The nights when I sneaked out and made phone calls,
tried to pretend that in the morning they would be all gone.
I thought I could hear the sighs, so soft,
tearing through the blind of darkness like thorns.

The same torment you all inflict upon yourselves
has got me immunized. I've watched every single one
walking out of my life after slapping on my face.
Where do you draw that strength from such little hands?

I feel you wanting to run away from me.
I feel you growing scared, worrying you have already
fallen into a deep trap. But neither of us
is meant to escape love, this love we have.

You tell me you're smelling death, and your face
has turned purple. I sit and watch you
struggle with your emotions, with your pains,
and as always I feel completely helpless.

If I ask you now, "Do you love me?",
you will say no. You are still in love
with him. Have you ever, for a split second,
realized he only exists in your mind?

You are fearful and so am I,
we are as flawed as the world we live in
and it is alright. Those who long for ideals
always find a way to survive disappointments,
or shall I say, reality.

The only ones who have committed suicide
are those who think they could put up with life,
who underestimate the way vanity takes a toll on them,
and at the crack of the sky, find themselves deceived,
so they jump under the flat surface of hope,
get everything in them shot with multiple bullets,
until it is too late to realize the lack of meaning
of their final decision, like many preceding others.

We are not like that, my love, and we love,
and I will make you love me instead of him,
because I am real, and so are you. I want you
to know how hard it is to want another person.
And our shared darkness has just only begun.

I am thinking of you,
the sincerity of your thoughts,
how you deal with emotions,
you do not know any better than running away,
in circles of isolation,
and when I restrained myself from running to you
and gave you time and space,
you thought I gave up on you.

"Did you really think I would give up on you?
I was the one who thought you gave up on me."

"No, why would you ever think so,
if nothing had happened, if there had been no clue
of me leaving?"

We keep each other hanging,
as this rising discomfort
tightens around our neck.
We keep questioning ourselves
and others that we love
and us.

"Don't give up on me," you said.
How could I?
Do you really think I know how?
We are just two helpless creatures
facing each other
in the midst of our craving for affection.
So much to give, so hesitant to receive.

What are we going to do now?
If we are so alike, is it wise
for us to, maybe,
you know,
fall in love?

The rainy days in this town,
the trembling wind, and how
I live so close to the river,
which turns grey as the water
rises with millions of bubbles ,
remind me
of home.

Home is only a restless sleep away.

Over that vast ocean, on the dark sky,
I seemed to be the only one awake,
so wide awake in my thoughts,
knowing I could, or perhaps not,
find myself again.
Maybe you, too,
have lost yourself in between
two pins on a map.

But I am not on that plane.
I am sitting
at the high coffee table,
hearing the wind howl
around the trees, as my window
is left open.

And I wish I were light enough
to be carried away
not to home
but somewhere, somewhere else,
I do not know,
maybe some ocean sea
maybe some tall mountain
or wherever without the humans
and there, leave me in the heightened cold.

Though I would rather
for that mighty wind
to be strong enough, so my departure
would not take too long.
I hate things that linger;
they never do me any good
Things, like memories,
pain,
longing,
goodbye's.
Thus I whisper,
"I'll go now, and please,
make it quick."

But my wind,
so distracted by the rain,
keeps passing without hearing me.

I'm telling you,
it is not so easy, after all,
to be granted such a simple wish
on a rainy day.

Why do we keep hurting each other?

How much longer can I live your dream
before losing mine completely?

What more can I do to please you
before forgetting what pleases me?

How farther away can I go
for us to be closer to one another?

When will you be able to listen to me
without letting your voice take over your head?

No matter what I do what I say how much I try where I am
you cannot let go of my life
I cannot let go of the life you force upon me.

You have a way to make me feel
useless
like I always felt, when I wanted
more than once
to escape.
The only place where that is possible
is somewhere else but this Earth.

From time to time
I feel like I am just a kid
being manipulated
by your expectations.
You cannot stop worrying about me.
I cannot stop worrying about you worrying about me.
I am tired of trying to maintain the fake peace around us,
of not being able to tell you how tired I have got
especially now.

How do I gather the courage
to stop thinking too much,
which does not help at all,
to simply let go
of everything?

did you see her?

oh, dear god, why
did she pull
the trigger?
where did she get
the gun?

she was sweet
and caring
and everything
but now she is
dead
no one thought she was
the kind
who could take her own
life

did you hear
she left a notebook
full of her life secrets?

****, I wonder
what she wrote
in it

do you think
it would explain
everything?

I wonder
what she was
thinking
that moment
when she was alone,
in her room,
with the ugly gun
staring right into
her heart.

I miss you: the unique tone of your words,
the high and low notes of your voice,
the way you hold your wine glass
- how I adore your rough, handsome fingers! -
the shape of your smile,
the way your shoulder blades stick out,
the angle of your hips,
the length from the bottom to the tip,
and
the subtle sadness in your eyes
when I place my lips on you,
dance my fingers around you,
feel the furthest point of your body
under my tongue, leaning
against the back of my throat, and then
your hardness fall between my softness,
as my flow of life blends into yours.

Yet my memories, my deepest ones,
started one early morning
when you said hello to me,
when you were so gentle,
when you were still the unknown,
but somehow,
closer to my heart than you are now.
The more we know about each other
the further apart we get, even though
we have become more casually comfortable
with each other's presence, the growing intensity
of my emotions,
the endless, exhausting questions
from the part of me
that longs for what we cannot be
together.

Breathe, breathe very calmly my dear,
and let me
take you slowly
into my world. Do not be afraid
of the unknown, the possibility
of stellar discovery, the risk
of being lost completely.
I am here, I want you
to be with me, I know
your fear.

But look at me, I am
right in front of your eyes,
trust what you
feel, the air
around us, the tension
of your clinging trust, the pulse
defining your blood,
the veins
so eager to burst
under the touch of your fingers.

I remember.
I will remember
as you go further, my happiness
as I slowly lose my mind,
my guilt, my sight,
and my words start to jumble
as you moan louder. You say
something I cannot hear,
but it does not matter, for I can tell
from the way the sweat runs down your forehead
how much you are in love with me.

When I slither down your spine
on the tip of my tongue,
I no longer see you, only your warmth
surrounding my face,
and I want to dig my teeth
deep into you, inject you
with the venom of my lust,
so you know how badly it hurts
to have this much desire
for you.

I try to wait for you,
but my ecstasy erupts
before my will. I am drown
in a frozen stretch of pleasure.
Until I see
you have been looking at me
with tears running down your cheek.
I do not understand that emotion
exuding from your eyes.
And I ask you, "What is it?"
but I cannot hear your answer.

Nonetheless, I have to clean myself,
come back, get dressed,
and tell you "I gotta go."
You nod. Say not a word.
I ask you again, "What's wrong?"
You shake your head.
I get irritated,
so I ask no more. Then I put on my shoes,
fix my shirt collar, and walk out
of your world.

What comes first:

Love or Poetry?

I imagine there's a kind of love
in which you can't let me live
because you love me too much.

Because you think
death could freeze time.
Because you see
nothing else could stop time
but death.

You want my memories of you
fixated
at the moment where things are still good
before I could watch you
being consumed by your monster.

Day 69

Dear You,

"I love you"*

There I wrote it
for the first time.

As I decided
to leave you
for good.

I really, really do
love you.

Since we can never be together,
we will never be separated.

Yours
without being yours
forever,

Me.

Rain chasers,
how I've known them.

They smell rain from a far distance,
watch the clouds in precise anticipation,
catch the first drop and raise to their lips,
and it either turns sour or sweet.

When they know the rain will go foul,
they tell themselves to make another round,
to seek more rain, more rain, and more rain,
until they lose their conscience and become vain.

When they know the rain will be sweet,
they do their best to hold on to it,
knowing it will not stay forever,
but rain chasers despise the laws of nature.

Once I joined their force and began the game,
and I found my first sweet of rain.
I tried to preserve it, like all the chasers,
then it was gone, like sweet rain always was.

Many raindrops have touched my lips ever since that day.
Some sweet, some sour, yet they never stayed.
And somehow it is still quite hard to forget
how I felt after that one left.

sometimes I feel my words falling off me one by one and I cannot catch them and I can only watch them

like that rainfall that
   cannot be stopped
        over the roof of my apartment

and I get lost in
   the growing absence of you
        it consumes me

I keep
   reaching out my hands
       only to see fingers hanging in the air

                     you've never held them

I wish I could dream up the warmth of skin
   but my imagination has its limits
       I feel helpless in my crippled poetry

you are already forgetting me
    and I, not sure what to do with my dying love for you,
        get up around 3 a.m.
                                                 and make myself
              a cup of hot milk

          there is no tomorrow
  only here, this warm whiteness,
                 sip by sip

              the night drips
       out of my eye sockets
      contaminating my milk