almost remembering

almost remembering

 

Fading to a shadow, husk of the man I used to be

the swirling blackness inside me came to agree,

 

your words are the cold gust I flutter in,

struggling towards you, like a banner for sin –

 

torn by promises and pleas… Not enough, not free.

Forgotten by love, I’m oarless floating on the sea.

 

A shadow dissolves into the darkest night

if it forgets that there was warmth and light…

 

I’d breathe but the leaden black on my chest,

adds the weight of your memory to my breast.

 

Midnight’s coming, and I know I’m flawed.

Storm’s coming and I’m the lightning rod


Inspired by “Gravity” by Danny Pool; Picture by Lallian Valte

I dare not look

I dare not look

*

I’ve put myself together,

too many times…

*

my jagged edges protect me no more

from examining eyes,

nor protruding words

*

fissures streak down my cheeks’n  limbs

barely visible to others;

hiding under patches;

covered by lies…

*

Cutting myself when feeling for my heart,

unknown regions of  emotions –

safely ribboned off,

like a crime scene;

I dare not  look

*

I dare not breathe the dark atmosphere

I dare not touch the chalk white lines

on the wet concrete

I dare not look

*

– at you


 

inspired by Jacob Ibrag’s “Crawl

 

London Dispersion Force

London Dispersion Force

*

Gray comet ice melting in green ocean water,

that’s what your eyes remind me of… salty cold.

Our time, the bright of friction heat and falling,

the mess, this ‘us’ refuses to be –

I remember, grasping, understanding, holding,

clinging – all the same to me: believing, hoping,

My love can keep both of us safe, I’m sure

becoming haven to stormy waters…

And the comet crashes. Burning, bleeding,

consuming all I have to give, and all I am

My hull  keeps you company,  memory of warmths

I have lost, I crumble…

and let you go…

I let you live, to find your own idea of… happiness


 

inspired by ‘Hold on‘ by Jacob Ibrag

first times

first times

*

I remember the sand between my toes

remember the first light invading the beach

remember the cold salty water

licking at my ankles, fingertips touching

remember your lips on mine

funny how seeing you – maybe – the last time

makes those first times so preciously vivid

treasured, under my veins, not zombified…


 

inspired by “Last Time” by  Jonathan Safran Foer, pic by Author, Funchal, Madeira

 

The fortuneteller told me…

The fortuneteller told me…

DARLING,  SWEET,  DON’T  YOU  KNOW?

*

Why do you wear only black?

Nothing will bring

him back.

*

Why do you cry yourself to sleep?

Love is something beastly steep?

*

Why do you call your hurts your only home?

You made it an art form, a syndrome …

*

Why do you keep looking back?

Nothing can change you back!

*

Don’t scratch your ear with that paw!

Bleck your fangs darlin’, move your jaw.

*

I think wolfsbane is your only hope…

Or you’ll be your whole life a misanthrope

Part 1 – My New Thomas

Part 1 – My New Thomas

(content warning: abuse, drugs, violence) 

this is an ongoing project inspired by my headstrong weird grandma

Life has a twisted sense of humor. I always felt, the joke was on me.

Eight years ago I quit work. My hands got too shaky to pull the widths of material over my desk, too achy to slice my scissors through the fabric, too clumsy to hold a button and sew it in it’s place. My hands stopped working properly. I had to give up being a dress maker, at the age of fiftyone.

I always feared that day. I’d come home, knowing I had to stay in the morning, the noon, the afternoon, the evening. I’d have to stay the whole day. There was no place to go to, nothing that needed doing, no escape from my husband, Thomas.

Continue reading “Part 1 – My New Thomas”

Love, isn’t it?

Love, isn’t it?

All deadly things possess cruel beauty.

For soul, a hungry fire, consuming duty-

for eyes, charcoal and diamonds,

for voice, a guttural growl, then silence.

For skin, a hot summer night ‘n bright stars.

Light headed music oozing from cheap bars…

All deadly things possess magnetic pull.

You bite trouble, poison just a mouthful,

better you nibble, or lick…. Kiss! Try’n inhale.

Immune to that rush? Don’t worry, you’ll fail.

Tingling under your fingers, a nervous tic,

Lips on lips, teeth meeting with a click…

All deadly things make you sincere…

So greedy, so wolfish, so ready to disappear.


Pic: Love is the Beast, by ROMANS