When you’re born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it’s not.” -Richard Kadrey.

And when I looked down at my hands all I could see was my family’s blood:
My fathers anger, my mothers unsolved love, my sisters hope and my brothers wrongs.
The careless of the little one and the consciousness of the oldest.
I think the reason why I could always only see my house from afar is because Ive never actually lived in it.
I could see my pain and the things I went through from outside the window, just as little as the lamp light let me see through,
And that’s one of the reasons I keep forgetting and forgiving.
But lately the memories have been coming back…
well, not really the memories, but the rights and the wrongs that my parents have done to me.
And I try to use my hands to stand up and get off the ground,
but they are so slippery, so slippery.
Until now, I didn’t realise how much blood I was carrying around,
how many people died in that house.
A house, a house, a house
One house, one house, one house.
Only a house with a roof and some walls.
Trying all life to find a house I can call home.
But I couldn’t even get up, and if I got up
How would I clean all this red mess up?
Feeling the most disgusting creature on earth,
I was thinking I might as well sell them my own self;
When I felt something so familiar touching me,
I tried showing them but all they could see,
Was a wet hand-an innocent-wet-big hand holding mine.
And I kept begging them to see that
Both our hands, me and his
Were wet for once, but not at all clean,
Both our hands were bleeding hunger,
Though at last, they were holding each other.

I definitely have a drinking problem, I’m thinking,
As I pour myself another wine glass and also press the next episode button for
The next chapter to start.
I’ve always been rational.
I don’t have patience, and I hate this about myself, I want to rush into things, and this makes me get hurt every-time I do it all over and over again.I think I’m repeating my own bad habits in order to gain some sense of how a strong feeling feels, and if I don’t, that’s what makes me keep going and doing the same-not sane-decisions, falling into the circle of my own accomplished ambitions.
I then desperately self destruct
And if I am the same as before,
Raising my glass as a form of sway;
I finally have one thing to say.
“As the red wine will never get white,
My thoughts will never not be mine.”

I look around and I feel alone.
In the need of something I can call a home,
I look around and all my friends are dead, every flower that nourished is now gone and all the trees from green they’ve become orange, they perished.
Wish I knew how to take care of myself, this way it wouldn’t hurt so much being left;
Behind like an old soul, like a soldier without a sword.
When you’re used to having little, little seems the world for you.
But I was never meant to settle for less, until you taught me how to cope it all through.

And it is funny because I’m always thinking about how I love being alone.
With my own thoughts, surrounded by my perceptions only.
In the end of the day though I am still haunted by the curse of being human
And that what makes me crave attention, continuously chased by the fear of being rejection.

The reassurance of peace
the validation of love
Yes, so good to be feeling that
above the constellations,
easy with heart
mind in part,
and worry none.
“Cant happen to me”
cant happen to us,
so I drink another drink,
and give you another beer
as the world tear us apart,
Applause, I stand up while smiling,
thats the only way I know
how to hide that Im dying.

Στέκομαι σαν τον τουρίστα μπροστά απ’ το ράφι με το κρασί,
προσπαθώ να αποφασίσω τι ποικιλία μου ταιριάζει, τι ποικιλία ειναι διαδομένη, ποια απο αυτές προτιμώ, ποια απο αυτές μου αρέσει.
Γλυκά, ημίγλυκα, ξηρά,
λευκά, ερυθρά, ροζέ.
Πάντα μου άρεσαν αυτά τα χρώματα,
απο μικρή βυθιζόμουν στα αρώματα.
Αισθάνομαι ωραία να έχω επιλογές στη ζωή μου;
αλλά με φοβίζει το γεγονός πως
η επόμενη απ’ αυτές θα μπορούσε να αποκαλύψει την αληθινή ψυχή μου.
Το κρασί που αγκαλιάζουν τα λεπτεπίλεπτα δάκτυλά μου εκπροσωπεί εμένα,
τις σκέψεις μου, το μυαλό, την αναπνοή μου.

Κι όταν κατευθύνομαι προς το ταμείο
ετοιμάζομαι επιτέλους
να πληρώσω την τιμή μου.

“Όσο ζεις μεγαλώνεις ή όσο μεγαλώνεις ζεις;”
Η  ψυχή μου έζησε ήδη αυτά που με προσπερνούν τριγύρω μου.
Νιώθω πως έζησα τα πάντα.
Κάθε στιγμή, κάθε ανάμνηση
έφυγε από το διάβα μου,
όταν ακόμη ήμουνα μεν μικρή,
αλλά δε μπόρεσα να προφτάσω τα νιάτα μου.
Κι αφού έχω ζήσει τόσα πολλά,
Αυτά που νιώθω είναι πλέον μηδαμινά.
Ένα μικρό χάος μες την χλωμιά του κόσμου.
Ένα μικρό δάκρυ στα γέλια των γυρών μου.
Και σκέφτομαι πωσ θα ΄ταν να άλλαζα,
Χωρίς τις σκέψεις τις παλιές,
Μα τις δικές μου μονάχα χαρές.

                            Μ.Α.

i find myself trying to be a mother
and a sister
and a daughter all at once
while i watch myself vanish
and then try to find me in the dust
i catch myself trying to be the leader
to be perfect, to be the best
and i walk away from my truthfulness
following your missed angry steps
and i fall as i cant stand not being whole of something that lasts
i hold on to the past and try to erase my future
and i try to catch my breath so i can stand on my feet again
but youre sitting inside my stomach
making me colapse against my ptoma