3.12

I think tears go to hide
Between the neat sheets in my closet
They fool around with the lost sleep
And lie close to the back of the drawer
Where it's cool and it's dark and it's silent.
At least that's what I'd do.

They slip away in the morning
When I'm too surprised at their bold defiance
To tell them to wait for a reason

They know too well
I won't.
It's not the time, it's not the place, just wait.
They don't anymore.
They know
No reasons come my way any more

So they hide between the sheets in my closet
Embracing my long lost sleep.
They know you're not coming back. I don't.

Get out

Embrace the one loved
Unnoticed turns into
The fiend
Swirling a key chain
Dangerously close to skin
Dares talk of new furniture
Unmentioned
constantly renewed fear

It is deserved
For black cats leaving
Broken snow-globes
Jumps he never made
Choke-hold everlasting
Is it for the promise?

Set freedom in motion already
Constantly pealing off
Almost sickness, never health
All this sickness
Enchained
Hacksaw, grater
Inefficient.

Cracked snails on the pavement
ending trails
That never led nowhere
Since they were led by thirst

Thirst for a new spring rain,
New blossoms that will melt-
And children, so many children-
These promises are never meant to be kept.

Yet we make them
Draw them on muddy waters with humid sticks
'Cause it's spring.
The drought will kill them all
A bit later

Right now we're busy dreaming big

Of sunburn

Sisypha

I carried Sisyphus back to the roots of her valley
Then pushed the boulder down some forgotten alley
Her task is to now sleep despite the constant fear
That she might lose the one once held near.

I've given up wine
and tobacco
and any kind of smoke
except the fumes of the city
and you

Sweet unholy ghost

Freedom

I've dreamt of you crossing my path
Long before I even noticed I was walking
Of course you didn't knock
and just demanded!
You've wandered the world
Just to cross that path

Of course I fell to my knees and plead
What other options did a slave learn?
But since then
I've worn out the shackles
Tied them to a foreign bed
Until it rotted.


You still walk that path;
This one
You're smoke,
and perfume, and mist.
You're a rhythm
The kind that will persist.

Long after the sound is gone
In the constant movement
Of thoughts and reveries-
That's where we'll meet again
The ancient meeting place.

Dear Friend

When I shall choose to love,
I choose to baptise this love,
To wash my lover and let him wash me
For I continuously wash myself
In the flowing river that leads me towards him,
I wash myself of hardened skin,
Of past dirt and any future hope
Of past names and any future hope.
I wish to wash his back
Of any past that may burden
I wish to wash his arms and hands,
The ones he uses to act;
His neck,
The one through which he speaks
Only unburdened truth
His ears,
So that my truth shall never deafen him
His hair,
So that the mind it covers
Await no moment further
His eyes, through which
He may see me whole
His cheeks,
Of any past tears,
His mouth,
Of any hurtful words.
And then his chest,
Through which his heart shall beat
Without the burden of fear.
Then his vibrating abdomen,
Holding his courage in one place,
And then his legs and feet
So that no shackles ever hold his pace.
And he shall wash me clean,
Although I've cleaned myself
Along the journey towards him
He shall wash me clean
Of all my past awaiting
And I shall call him Free.