She

does not know

how empty I am,

without her.

My forced absence

drains me.

I miss her skin,

her hair,

her laugh,

her strong legs,

her screams,

her whiskey and mint breath,

her fingers on my chest,

her smelly ******* dog,

her cluttered kitchen,

her horrible wall sconces,

and her muscles flexing underneath me.

I miss the way we fit

so well together

in her small bed.

I miss the nervous

anxious feeling I

would get on the way over

to see her.

I think of the quiet moments we

would have after

making love, when she would twirl her hair,

and give me a new

perspective.

She was unhealthy for me,

I knew that going in.

That doesn’t change

or heal

or fix

or fill

my emptiness.

Distract us
Sidetrack us
Engross us
Refract us
Or offer
A glimpse
Just a slight
Of what's real
While we march
In our sleep,
While we are
Standing still,
We’re still reigning
Still falling
Still fighting
False stalling
And cannot see
The ground with
Our heads in
The clouds with
Our eyes And
Our ears Cotton
Wool-ed From
Our fears A
Divine Inter-
ment our shins
Creak on
Cement and
Our boots
Thump and grind
As we march
On the blind
Silent lips
Bleary eyes
Muffled sounds
Freaky minds

What does one do with a burnt out fire?
The ashes are here, but not desire.
Residual proof of what I once held---
Fleeting:  memories of oaken trees felled.
Brother collectors, whose work is complete
taste it akin to me; something unique:
The fact is collections (like my heart, whole)
have all the components, save for that hole
left by the fury, drive and frustration
Requisite for our very creation.
Second fact is wholesome hearts freed of greed,
Unfettered by love, (the great earthly need!)
Have no direction or key to the map
So listlessly wonder with toe a-tap.
Completed soul, with perfect attention:
buying cars perfected  without engine.

It hit me harder than a freight train, so overwhelmed I forget to breathe. My eyes open up.
The clouds have a glaze that for lack of a better word I must call heavenly. they expand and overlap to the end of the earth like a highway for our intellectual being. The sun is protruding but just in a slit. The bugs will crawl, don't forget they exist. I'm at one with the rocks, cactus and trees. Each cactus has eyes visible from far away. Black and purple with an LED tint. The cactus army surrounds us with their many sets of arms and agrees upon our passage. Stratus clouds to the west open up in 3D, a spiral wave leads into a tunnel. If you want to know what's on the other side you've got to go up there. The taste in my mouth is a little hard to stand. Water, i drink it down. A fifteen minute pow wow. The people were laughing, some had bikes. The bugs keep on moving and this stick is so **** soft. The clouds dance to the music just as fast as clouds can while we all worship the sun. The trees became mobile; visiting other homes as if time were elapsed Millions of years condensed into a matter of seconds. The clouds aren't the same. The bugs take a break from crawling i can hear them all laugh. I remember i can stand, stand so tall there's a world behind us, beyond that rocky wall. It's similar but different. The clouds are not the same.

I hate and I love.
How much I hunger
For the days when I was younger,
for the days when I was really free,
for the days when I was a real me.
And what is happening now?
Has the world turned upside down?
I do not say any more “Wow!”
Nothing surprises me.
I can only realize
this horrible situation
with discomfort and even frustration.
Am I on another stage?
Is it connected with my age?
I don’t think so.
I can see today the youth
who can’t find the truth.
Isn’t it strange that
having two higher educations
I am on the edge of starvation?
Isn’t it strange that
having worked all my life
I have to think how to survive?
No one cares about my life,
no one worries if I should live or die.
I hate those unfair rules
which were proclaimed for the fools.
I love my motherland,
but the life here I can’t withstand.
I forgot the word “hurray”.
That was another day.
My future is unpredictable as weather.
I am like a feather
don’t know where to fly.
It seems all is a lie.
I don’t know where this time the wind will blow.
Where is my spirits flow?
I don’t know how to live,
I don’t know whom to believe.
The world has greatly changed.
For someone it’s not strange.
It’s only strange that I am still alive
but have to think how to survive.
Who will tell me what to do?
Should I be true with those who cheat,
with those who treat
me and others as a toy?
They are very much annoyed
to listen to the truth,
but they are not confused
to rob, to demand,
to occupy my motherland.
They even use God’s name
as a cover for their crimes.
They do not hear the church bells chimes,
they only hear their own voice,
leaving the majority with no choice.
My voice is crying in the wildness.
Forgetting about gladness
I have to know sadness,
to learn the rules of a new ***** game.
Isn’t it the biggest shame?
I have no more strength to fight
but only to wait for the light
at the end of that tunnel,
in other words: for my funeral.
Where is the way out?
I have no strength to shout.
It looks as there is only one: to pray,
to calm my soul for another stay.

©Larisa Rzhepishevska
December 2nd,2010