Bathe me in your love
with lukewarm kisses,
shampoo my hair
with your speeches,
condition with care
and let it dry on sun flare;
                                    then
put on
my favorite pajama
and let my lips thank you
as my eyelids pull the curtains
of my mind
and I fall asleep
       right
        by
        your
        side

Eyes feasting upon mine
as if a distant universe
collided with my body

coldness causing fire
and lips eager to drink the flame

in one shared breath.

My hand will forget
how to hold onto Yours
and You will slowly fall
into the unknown
forgotten land
of a broken heart’s
amnesia.

I sometimes wish
i could cement my beating chest,
so my heart would no longer bend and break
under the weight of my emotions.

yesterday I had a dream
of a yellow flower field
where i ran free
from all the pain
with which i went to sleep
my tears had grown the flowers
which i didn’t dare to pick
and there was
a small,
familiar bee
that stung
me.

the cold crawling of a sharp knife,
tasting your blood bitter than truth,
yet
sweeter than sin,
whispering gently
amen.

ripping apart your look for tomorrow
filling your eyes with glasses of sorrow
how does it feel,
ending it all at once,
and yet painting your beliefs
with the color of the blood you bleed?

but don’t worry one stab cannot be that bad,
please, don’t be mad,
pull yourself together and
the warmth inside your soul
may survive;

it could.

but the knife fell again,
not intentional,
a small mistake,
carving a name
on the back of your
heart,

did anyone survive?

i hate the fact,
we held hands
on the cold January night-
we kept each other warm.

i hate the fact,
i let Your lips kiss mine-
i’m sorry
if i did it wrong.

i hate the fact,
your hands held my body
as if it was the most beautiful
violin in the world-
my strings broke,

i’m hurt.

i hate the fact,
we cooked together -
now i can’t look at food.

i hate the fact,
Your fingers ran through my hair,
as if it was silk and You, a sewer-
I want to cut it short.

i hate the fact,
I opened myself to You,
my home -
and You left;
please, come back,
You didn’t close the door.

i hate the fact,
my ears were so used to
the words you spoke
that Van Gogh no longer seems
like a man done wrong.

i hate the fact,
your eyes stared at mine
like a blind man saw the sky;
i can no longer find the constellations
at night.

i hate the fact,
Your soul hugged mine
so warm,
i felt home.

i hate the fact,
You came and took from me,
and like a broken cup-
i’m still spilling tears
over memories.

lastly,

i hate the fact
You had to leave
and so did all my parts
You’ve ever touched,
You’ve ever kissed.

They ripped apart  
so hard,
so painfully,
away from me
that i’m still

                      bleeding.

would you sell your mother for some cash?
watch her getting stripped, misused and harassed?
playing deaf to her calls for help
while greedy men cut her wild hair,
while they dig deep into her soils,
reaching for gold and precious oils
that simply didn’t come for them
but they search all over again,
would you close your eyes when
you meet her desperate stare ?
begging for some help,
praying to be saved ?

day after day
ignorance takes over care
as her once fertile skin
turns gray,
her tears face
draught,
skin wrinkles and fades
the life she gave you once breaks
under the pressure of her overheat,
but why bother?
she’s just a money-making machine.
you take, you greed, you win.

would you sell your mother for some cash?


then why do you sell our nature ?

yesterday
in blurry sight I discerned
the shape of your face-
an ink kissed by a drop of water-
and I thought I cloud draw you
a thousand times

today
I woke up and you weren’t here
and I thought I’d rather look at you
a thousand more

dark night is the bed
to which i come
mostly late,

strip my soul,
lay it down
covered in
memories of
black and white

nostalgia dressed
in a tear-soaked mess
wetting my pillow case

i’m falling down,
asleep;

dark night
is the bed
in which you
no longer wait
for me to come
mostly late.

.  
 
                                   i s
                            t              h
                  ­    a                          o
                h               ­                      m
         w                                                  e
            ­       is it where you live?
                   a room, p e r h a p s,
                   a house o n  a  street
                   w h a t   i s    h o m e  
                   when you are home,
                   b u t      y o u    f e e l
                                                            home­less
                                                            ¿

A drop
     which falls
                  in the sea,
                              becomes
                                      
              sea.
          〰️〰️〰️
   〰️〰️〰️
         〰️〰️〰️
   〰️〰️〰️

always             forever
              means

                     and            are
                              we            mortal

I can no longer endure the dreadful sound of jazz.

It pains my ears, this rusted, broken pipe
leaks acid straight onto my heart.

In our quicksand of memories I silently sink
and my room seems so dark, so cold and empty
that all the demons from the corners left me,
and you alongside,
with the creatures of the night.

“no, no they can’t take that away from me”

****, i wish they could.

Lost my way in the storm of your body,
kissing your lips kept track of my steps
I noticed every line and curve of this mountain
made a map to help myself.

I looked around to find these eyes full of love,
and I did find them, befogged,
I found the very eyes that made me fall in love
looking at another person’s route.

I wasn’t the only one climbing your peaks
but that’s what you made me believe.

What a thunderous event, isn’t it?

“it isn’t what it seems to be”

you say? sure.
I have heard better lies
by the very thieves who came that night
who robbed me of my conscious mind,
blindfolded my eyes with believes
pushed me in a storm and made me leave
my childish thoughts about you,
about what I thought was love.

I made a map of your body
just to find my way
out of the forest where
trees grew
                   l i e s.


-no bitter fruit than truth

‘
  
              rooting from nature’s beating heart
              through mud and soil it raises
              a tree, bathing in rain and sunshine,
              listening to thunderstorms at night
              ...

Branches grow in all the directions
people wouldn’t dare to.

‘
            Leaves grow out of the very places
                        they have  f      from.
                                             a
                                           l
                                              l
                                           e
                                               n

the letters of my name are soft clay
which the strong palms of your voice
press into shape

dark scene of shattered sand
blanket for one lays thrown on it
a face so familiar
so distant
feasts upon the depths of my sea

where like fallen stars
jellyfish and comets are slowly
burning down
a sea of present past
stormy caressing waves

I wanted to drawn
in you
with you
in us

I went to catch you
alas, I cut my hands
loving
a rock.

You kept me feeding
on hope and dreams
and like a starving child
I ate.

You kept the door open
the key thrown away
and like a homeless person
I entered.

You kept the fire burning,
with each word of love you spoke,
trembling, unable to get warm,
You held my body close

but kept water closer.