Visits of condolence is all we get from them.
They squat at the Holocaust Memorial,
They put on grave faces at the Wailing Wall
And they laugh behind heavy curtains
In their hotels.
They have their pictures taken
Together with our famous dead
At Rachel's Tomb and Herzl's Tomb
And on Ammunition Hill.
They weep over our sweet boys
And lust after our tough girls
And hang up their underwear
To dry quickly
In cool, blue bathrooms.


Once I sat on the steps by agate at David's Tower,
I placed my two heavy baskets at my side. A group of tourists
was standing around their guide and I became their target marker. "You see
that man with the baskets? Just right of his head there's an arch
from the Roman period. Just right of his head." "But he's moving, he's moving!"
I said to myself: redemption will come only if their guide tells them,
"You see that arch from the Roman period? It's not important: but next to it,
left and down a bit, there sits a man who's bought fruit and vegetables for his family."

White bed sheet
Strangely picked wallpapers
White eyes, white eyes
Die
Army and explosives
Molotov never did taste this sweet
Yellow lights, beware of God
Pray for us sinners? No ---
Let Mary Jane sing
the sonnet alone
Let Marionette
see your death
Believe her, believe her
No Jesus would be
Stop praying the Rosary, stop it
Don't you want to puke when you hear
Hail Mary? Führer! Führ---
You live like Cleopatra
whose tongue was a cobra
whose eyes were the black swans
on the lake where you first
drown
yourself. Are you Narcissus?
I am an echo
An echo not Echo
The smell of rain won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever
Won't ever

Peeled toad's skin
Like an apple's
The Cs are not enough; Never ---
Crescent moon
Cat's sad eye, another blind
I miss you

There is a lot of
Meaning in the four small words
"I didn't sleep well"

I prefer classical music
On days when I'm feeling numb
The exquisiteness of it all
Breathes fire into my soul
Slowly bringing me back
From an unending abyss
Until I feel almost human again

There are times
When I seem to be consumed
By an utter sadness
That not even I can write about

Should I explain?

I like to light cigarettes
Only to watch them burn away
Gradually turning into bits of ash
I miss their taste
And it's only then that I realize
That I don't drink enough
It's another weakness I'm not allowed

These days,
Pride seems to be my only salvation
Or perhaps it's stubbornness
A sheer force of will to get through the day

Either way,
Dreams remain pain filled
Life is a constant fight against the bleak
And I break mirrors every day
Cracking my reflection with ease
To fragment this forced smile
It's a necessary evil...
To hide everything that I feel
Because surviving is the only thing that matters

To be honest,
Happiness is something I can't touch
An emotion that I can't quite fathom
Though I can't seem to stop trying

Every jungle needs a queen
I'll be ****** if it isn't me

© 2014 Peach

I used to write

like if I said it enough
found the right way
suddenly someone would grasp
understand, untie me

as if, in naming my fears
they would stay in plain sight
not in shadows
dancing on the wall

like if my tongue
could blunder through
the brambles in my throat
I would stay
awake
aware
afloat

Beneath that loved   and celebrated breast,
silent, bored really   blindly veined,
grieves, maybe   lives and lets
live, passes   bets,
something moving   but invisibly,
and with what clamor   why restrained
I cannot fathom   even a ripple.
(See the thin flying   of nine black hairs
four around one   five the other ******,
flying almost intolerably   on your own breath.)
Equivocal, but what we have in common's   bound to be there,
whatever we must own   equivalents for,
something that maybe I   could bargain with
and make a separate peace   beneath
within   if never with.