Smoking long cigarettes did not compensate for
the loss, inhaled, with hot air between her lips
Remained untasted for aeons of time
There is a figure behind those curtains
slowly vanishing through grey curling clouds
Like memories, blurring
Grey ashes, extinct fires
Silently, she sings an obituary on chances never taken
and the waste of youth, untouched by the hands of time
What if the past was an ashtray full of longings?
Slowly fading out the lights and glimmer
Dry leaves rolled up and burned
Burn the poems!
Burn them!
After all, they are just sticky graves of thoughts!
(And they end up in Purge-a-tory)
magic mirror
a couple of more couples
(more…)
Never expected that it would occur to me like this. How did it initiate its crawling into my restless, pondering mind? Must have been a shot of vivid ecstasy, worth being exorcised, on muggy and hot summer days.
I remember the days back then, I spent in dullness; thoughts drifting afar due to insomnia and assignments that challenged approximately 0.011 percent of my neuronal capacity. That was hospital back then. And you. The personification of a mad scientist. Kept waiting for me, capturing my appearance with your wistful gazes. They were telling stories of devoid and fragile longings; and stories from the hilltop of your lonely pining existence. You were there, pumping life into my fatigued veins, pushing my blood cells into a trance-like rhythmic circle dance, up and down. Else, my hand would not have scorched under the touch of your hand, pretending to perform an incidental gesture. Muted, my body swallowed the unambiguous signs you sent me, indigestible, left somewhere dwelling in my womb. Until the day we separated, both knowing that we would never meet again.
I sat there sobbing, in accordance with the tunes of maudlin love songs, feeling abysmally ashamed by the obvious display of emotions on my face. On one of those weird days, my folly forced me hasting upstairs, towards the church of the Holy Mother, hoping for a glimpse of relief.
There I knelt, my mind all empty, a blank heathen, an educated atheist; unable to recall a prayer from a childhood memory that had never stored such phrases into the psychological realms of spiritual knowledge. THOU LUCKY VIRGIN! HOW WILLST THOU EVER COMFORT ME IN MY AGONY? THOU KNOWST NOTHING! Oh… Oh! How did I envy her in that moment for her ignorance of sexual desire! But while I was staring at her statue in disappointed fury, my eyes tracked the emblem of the consolation I desired: MATER DOLOROSA, PIERCED MARTYR HEART, THOU KNOWST MY PAIN! However, redemption was not at all, what I took with me from the Goddess. I stepped out into the cold and moist harvest fog and while taking a deep breath, I absorbed the mantra, I exhaled: SOLITUDE, I LOVE YOU TOO! Finally, I had consummated copulation with the emptiness of space.
I saw you shivering on a blue velvet carpet, lying beneath the orchid fields.
While I was chanting my Mantras after the Goldrush and further.
Was it you, or was it me?
Time is useless!
But once upon a time, I knew, yes, it was you; breathless.
And once upon a time it was me, reckless; enchanting I knew.
As time goes by and who will know and why?
I saw you shivering twice and thrice. Underneath the golden blanket, wrapped around your toes.
While I was delivering flowers to the masses, you made shambles out of rose petals, silently.
So I counted Mantras again. Thrice and Twice. But my vision blurred.
Strange colours emerged from the bottom of our hearts.
What did you mention time was like?
A face is something untouchable outside of yours.
A face is not there. Like words not uttered, unspoken.
Will I ever know? Will you? Ever is a long word.
Finally, I close my eyes because my vision commences to fail. A dazzling haze befalls my senses.
Time is countless. Will I ever touch you? Ever is a long word for people longing! Time is endless.
Everything else is not. A mantra is endless. While I chant it, my vision recurrs and all I see is
an icon of decay
