Nothing is an option anymore everything
dull as if
not yet in sunlight not in darkness everything
is not as it was and it was never as it is
now
you are
bored
and you can feel it
like thick air melting without
room
to go
you can smell it like you smelled roses before
you can
touch
it like you would touch silk or leather only that
this touch
is reminiscent of nothing that you need to dig deeper for
deeper
and this
boredom
blocks every attempt to do so
to dig
deeper
for feelings

In the grass you lie and hear
everything twice as loud and double size as I do

in the grass you wait
patiently with your arms embracing your knees
and raveling stories in your head

in the trees you see much more
than any one of us could
and for hours you are not cold
as even the old ones leave for home now;

you sit -
and you sit in the grass
and remember god knows what
and i won't call you odd

for some day, i am sure, you'll outwit us all.

Old systems hanging by a thread stone walls massive built from deep fear and desire to protect what is not there yet
Deep walls cold walls already
a crack runs
through them until the edges a crack so long and thorough you know -
And you heart widens with that knowledge and great relief comes in -
that it is already inevitably on the way to
crumble now
crumble down and become
dust that flies
with the air
so that your people can see it
can believe it
I must see this through til the end you think
not knowing what exactly this means what exactly -
But it does not matter
And you have so much space
to breathe now
to breathe
And so you do just that you
fill your lungs
and

b
r
  e
a
t
  h
e

for what feels like
the first time
in ages

It is dark. Night. The girl opens the window,
looks up to where she knows Orion's belt resides behind the clouds.
She thinks now she understands time.
She thinks she sees time growing out from her heart
in an illuminated spiral, flashing green,
and not ever the other way around.
She imagines the stars looking back, benevolent and still sincere, still there, in the night sky.
Still there now.
And now.
And always.

Breathe

Shame does not come from
The things you have done.

It comes from your thoughts.

No shame
No regret

You are free to dive in and fully trust
In everything.

Can I be both
the center and
the ray

the middle
and the outskirts

and is this longing why
it hurts so much

and why you asked me
to expand?

No one ever set foot in
The cave of forgotten books

No one trusts in paper-filled
Sheds with icy floor

There is no nook and crany
Anymore
That you may want to wipe
The dust off.

There is more than one
Of those caves

And in my childrens' stories
I know how to guide you there

I know.

We have learned
About eternal
Distinction between things.

We have seen
The separation
And the cutting into half.

The faces and the masks,
So similar but not
Entirely the same,
Are driving us mad.

Please –
Please for once -
Make it stop;

Make the division stop
And show us
The one thing.

Automatically,
I gave myself the name
Me
and I placed myself in the
Here an Now.

And it took me six years
One illusion gone
One house flooded and away with the waters
One father, the only one I had, dead

to notice.

But I also want to tell you what I got;
I got the great
great chance
to integrate
all my parts.

I found (or it found me, or-)
great
love.

This is not supposed to sound
in any way holy
or sacred.

Or wise.

It plainly states
the facts.

Thank you, Universe.

Make up your mind

Before I make it up for you.

~ Florence and the Machine ~
           ♡

In a circle I walked.
For this circle I prayed.
In a square I arrived -
    And am caught.

For the end of the circle
Would be its beginning.
And the round, colored space
Could be the world we live in.

But the square separates us,
Its edges cut sharp in my flesh
Each time I try to turn
And see where you are,
       And if we collide or crash.

Blindfolded I feel
Each new wall to come,
Each new turn,
In an angle of ninety degree.

So I am fleeing,
Searching you in the square,
And its natural shape
                         Prevents me from -
                                  seeing.

Fields and forests,
         Clouds and thunder
             Mean nothing to me -
Is what I would say
If what was on my mind
Was even slightly resembling
The strength of your mind.

Unfortunately though
I cannot part from this world
Until my very last gesture
Is reaching-up-to-the-sky.

And I cannot leave this place,
And I hate you for saying
That the only thing keeping
You here is I.

If
brick after brick
  drops down
   don't think you can
    pick them up again.

Nobody said this would
be an easy ride
nobody said so  
and yet
you're here
touch the water
dear, and let yourself
immerse

You walk in front of me, your footsteps soundless but steady and safe, your pearly skin that so amuses me glowing in the dark.
I follow this glow, always, gathering the silvery snowflakes
falling out of your hair at times.
You gather yourself around me if needed, if you want me to keep
my eyes open despite all the arrows and daggers. You do not seem
to mind, feel it yes, but to mind -
You just look at me silently, cracking the tiniest smile as if saying
I do this all the time and you know it.
And I know it.

Cutting through my chest
With the force of a steel fist
Your absence now pounds in my brain.

And as present as ever
The feeling is burning:
A stain in the white rag.

I hate daffodils, because you know
and her face fell down a little as though not quite convinced of her own words
they are false and only mentioned when people
what? she thought, irritably
when people want to be poetic

But you like them, you told me once
and he was sure, and he was right about that
so I don't see why.

You never see anything, that's because you are too much-
too much yourself. and myself, too
because you are living in your own mind an awful lot of the time
what time?

Love, don't upset me, I mean what I say
and says what he means
and if you don't like them it's okay to me
only to me
and if you do like them, well I get you some.

                                *In the meantime, while his lips are moving, she begins
                                                                               to see words coming out of
his mouth and forming a beautiful little cloud above his head. She sees
                                                                                        them, does not hear them,
                                                                    circling. He is beautiful in every way, and daffodils are not
                                                                                                                                        the matter of this. Not at all.

When she stands at the stove she
wears her sleeves rolled up
and eyes that look may see
the tiny faded numbers

Her grey hair braided
and pinned-up
her skin just slightly wrinkled

In slumbers I have seen it all again
in fragments

Her eyes do never rest upon
those numbers
anymore

They've grown into her life as much
as daughter, son, and second daughter have.

*Sometimes, at night, I feel cold iron
touch my arms and legs
I don't know why

Don't be so shy, love

I wonder why
you never slapped me
and never slept with me

You see:
I need to know you
inside out

Say it aloud:
*I'll stay with you.

how come i have cold feet like that
lie in my bed
and freeze and freeze
and freeze?

how come, now that i realize, that you
don't lie here next to me?

i guess you've climbed up
on the roof
to find a final proof of how the world goes round.

This is the infant biting
a juicy lemon slice for the first time
life and all
its scandalous craziness rushing
into a hilarious expression
that seems to say,
this is life I'll
buy it