Made of Porcelain

I'm no longer part of this world. They say that when you have faith you can have everything. I re-phrase then: 'I believe that I don't belong in this world.' Have you ever felt that even if you're surrounded by so many people everyday, everywhere, the night will find you again, lying in your bed alone, waiting for something you don't even know. The hundreds of thoughts, the many regrets always hold your hand in darkness. And because they never really go away - they are just dismissed - I will offer my body the pleasure of another form. Tonight, I'll pretend I'm a porcelain doll. He, who can see me through the stillness of this room will get the credit of holding me. I only have one condition. 'Be careful'. I can't afford breaking too quickly. I want to feel your hands on my perfect face, my curly hazel hair, on my tiny fingers.. Hold me tightly. Use both hands. Look at me. 'I'm real.' I just can't tell you, because for once you'll have to realize it by yourself.

Away..

Fairytales in ghost towns are boring. Extremely tedious for a girl's eyes, even when trying to use metaphors and personifications of trees and flowers turning into red-white lollipop sticks. Your 6 year old daughter will too quickly become a grown woman ma. She will develop her maternal instinct and sexual drives. She'll go away. Yes ma, she'll go away too - like everyone..
Everyone will pave our way to freedom.
Everything lingers slowly in this room. Sometimes I whisper your name in darkness. This darkness is moving, dancing, filling this emprty space. There is always an disjointed part which always grows in my consciousness. I want us to become the most violent tide of that isolated shore. You told me once that you'd learn me how to sing. You said: 'I love the colour of your voice'. I felt like home. You are my home. Your eyes are my only shelter. And yes, I'd die for you today because today is the first day of my life that I really want to fly away..

03:40

Once. For just once be mine. I'm looking at the light from a distance and thinking: 'I can do anything for you.' Just be you. It's yourself I want at last, not another dog in line. It hurts so much knowing that it's not enough. I mean, nothing is truly enough. There are moments I feel that you owe me and it is terrifying if anyone ever asks how. What is taken to be necessary loses its' value. It becomes insane and as bad as it sounds vital. I need you now. I am frank. I want you by my side while I'm looking at the radiance of the dark distance.. It is as if the sky has been painted tonight with all the colours of melancholy. I don't know yet if I am the painter holding this palette. The only thing I know for sure now, is that you're so near and so far away..
I'm afraid of how necessary you've become to me. I'm afraid of sleeping by myself, I'm afraid of moments in darkness. Too many faces are wondering around but in every of these faces all I see is your face. Why did I give myself this way to you? Why do I need you - as much as I hate myself for admitting this - so badly? You teach me to create and take my inspiration away whenever you want to. And I blame myself for this. Not you. You can't control my madness and you definitely can't control obsession. I forgot for a moment how restrained you are. Everything must be measured. Yes. Line by line, number by number, inch to inch. Tiny little things (which matter for myself) do not have any significance to you. You can't accept defeat and you can control your sleep. You can also prevent yourself from running to me. Finding me, another night, alone, will be, unacceptable, out of the order of things.
And fuck, as much as I'm suffering, I still want you; with all the pain you're causing to me and all the ignorance. I still love you more than anyone, anything, more than the beauty of words. And I still miss you. And I'll never get enough of you, even if you'll never understand..

Goldfish

Great power is to swim,
Slide,
Through known, unknown intervals
Like a transparent goldfish.
Yes, offer me this strength;
To bump and explode, vibrate in golden waters.
My bubbles will be flashes of memory
Like camouflage of colour.
Whatever grey shade is passing through my invisible, tiny body
Is as bright as the sun I never get to see.
And I’m spinning, forming endlessly, vibrant shapes
Of trumpet lips, and lily petals.
I can even hear the broken notes of a faded bass…

Yiruma

Her hair was falling with
The colour of the night;
Becoming one with the beauty
of a tranquil emotion.
She could not see the scars on
Her golden body now.
‘It might be the night’, she is whispering to herself
‘Or the water’.
She loved the sensation of water always.
Mostly because it was purifying.
And she, for one moment she turned,
That moment in water she turned to her reflection.
Brand new, and young and
A woman.

Sian

I have seen light and darkness through cracked waters (under a sea…)
Within a long drive I’m thinking: how much I want to kiss you.
Let me pull the choke myself.
Do not feel pity.
Cause I have seen light and darkness through cracked waters.
I can afford losing my breath.
I’ll only ask for one thing:
You strangle me – but please, sensually…
Play with me, do whatever you want to please yourself.
There are no constraints and you’re allowed not to be moral.
This is what I am giving you.
When you finish, leave.
I need to sleep.

February

Cold as the burning iceberg;
This is how I feel---
Wrapped in a corner of the Atlantic.
I do not care about the blanket
You are willing to offer me.
The ice emerges from whatever makes me human.
It pierces my body…
I am reduced into ash and pieces of madness.
I said I am dying.
And it’s true – partly, it is true.
I am dying slowly in the empty space.
If I am doubting the existence of my own being
Then how can I be certain of yours?
And then another night comes to its’ end.
And the day is intruding; uninvited and unknown, to the life I kept locked in me.
I am always following this secret resentment, this endless desperation of creating life through death.
I suppose all days with you are the same.