The year of swiss cheese heart with a black puncture

After people are gone, you are left with dark, people-shaped, holes in your heart.

After people are gone, they never leave two holes alike in two hearts aside. 

After people are gone, you will slowly fill their holes with colourful memories. 

After people are gone, you can still get a warm harlequin hug from a hole in your heart. 

 

And what of that tiny black hole that didn't get a shape? 

And what of that tiny black hole that has no memories? 

And what of that tiny black hole that will suck you in if you get too close? 

And what of that tiny black hole with sharp edges that will cut you deep if you stare too long? 

And what if time dulls all edges and turns black grey? 

 

You have as much heart as it's left from colourful holes and grey abysses. 

You have as much heart as people to love. 

You have as much heart as you need, if you only let it grow. 

 

For the holes in my heart. And the people that share them. 

For me.

yesterday I wasn't

We outgrow our toys. And then throw them away and build new ones.
We outgrow our books. We read others and then write poetry.
We outgrow our music. And in the silence learn to listen to our insides.
We outgrow people. And sometimes our people outgrow us.

if you were food, then I

Let's imagine I'm lost somewhere on a deserted island.
At some point I will get pretty hungry. So hungry in fact that I might start eating tree bark. I don't think I would normally eat tree bark.
I feel watched. A cannibal is trying to make friends, but I have this feeling he just wants to eat me whole. I don't want to be anybody's meal.
I'm hungry. I have a cookbook with me. I've been carrying it around for a while. I can't eat paper and I'm starving. Tree bark makes cinnamon, doesn't it?

dear pieces of void,

You come to me and put yourself in the center of my attention. I wish you came to me and put myself in the center of your attention. But at least you come to me every now and again.

You say I am awesome and amazing. You say it's not me, it's you. No, it's not me, it's her.

I say you're gone and lost me. Maybe I just forgot how to make myself interesting enough for you to want to keep me.

You say you need to go there and make a life for yourself. My life misses you here.

You say I was unfair to you. I am not perfect. You are not perfect. I say I forget to be fair to me.

I would be me, except I forgot who you wanted that to be.

fill my little world

If I would now for then, would you here from there?
If I would white for black, would you high from low?

If I would gray sometimes, would you average somewhere?


I will yellowredgreenblueandmore anytime, please extraordinary anywhere.
[.]

the randomness of it all

And some people taught themselves out of happiness one million times, but not even once into it. Because you can't.
And sometimes our lives' stories happen so much faster than our lives themselves that we can't catch up and just be. So we follow stories never written that we can read on our faces.
And then we live so much, so many real lives, written by us, for us, against us, that in the end we never stop needing imaginary friends.
We all have ghosts tattooed on the inside. Of our skulls, of our eyelids, of our toes, of our oceans.
Make me the most me I can be, and we won't call it love, let's say it's just a beautiful toleration of each other.


(may contain some hints or traces of extremely loud and incredibly close)

I come in pairs

My heart sees with one eye, my mind watches with the other. So my vision is impaired.

So my reality is made of gray images stitched together with colorful imagination.

My heart feels with one hand, my mind touches with the other. I may be partially numb.

And my fists are full of scars.

My heart hears with one ear, my mind listens with the other. So I can't hear you clearly.

So I'm deafened by words never whispered.

My heart stands on one leg, my mind walks on the other. I loose my balance easily.

And I can't run just by standing still.

But I have only one mouth, so you'll probably not know and not understand.
So I'll give my heart to people who don't want it. And they'll keep it because they like my mind.

dear you,

You are loved. You are not perfect, except perhaps in your idiosyncrasies and faults.
You are loved. You do not deserve it, nor should you earn it.
You are loved. Without expectations, but against your wishes.
You are loved. Not from afar and despite the magnifying glass.
You are loved. It is not a choice. Neither yours, nor mine.

You are loved. It is not a weapon, or a weight. It is not a promise, or an excuse. It is not an explanation, or a question. It is not a prize, or a punishment.

You are loved. I implode whenever I try to say what I feel.

Love,
me, not only myself, and not I

dear me,

during the past week you realized that you are stronger than I give myself credit for, you have more to give than I thought, and you are more loved than I ever imagined.
Remember that. Hold on to it. Hold on to them.

Love,
you

of words lost in hiding

I think of all the words written but unseen. I remember.
I see all the words written but unseen. I remember why.
I know all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there.
I feel all the words written but unseen. I remember why they're there and not here.

Each one a fear. Each one a rage. Each one a reason. Each one a madness. Each one a tear. Each one a step.
Each one taken out and swallowed back in.

About the shell the ghost the shadows. About the never ever after. About the words you breathe in and the images you cry out. About the principles of dots. About the labels we wear.
Stories with elephants and giraffes. Stories of my dear almost never ever gonna happen. Short stories for people long gone.

You never fought for me. No one ever fought for me. Not even me.

I would burn my words and drown my thoughts if I thought it helped.
Now it is said. Not to you, but for me. So I can begin.

of fools and nothing

Imagine waking up Don Quixote to reality.
Imagine it happening in the very middle of his pursuit.
Imagine his shock to see the giants were windmills.
Imagine his stupefaction to see his brave adventure an illusion.
Imagine his consternation to see his future and his past vanish into thin air.
Imagine his shame to realize he was nothing but a crazy old fool.
Imagine his pain to know he has nothing.

one day my invisible cloak became transparent

It was that morning when the mirror didn't recognize me. Or the day when silence started screaming. The day the colours on the inside went gray and the numb on the outside turned into pins. Or maybe the evening before the enough wasn't and my limits had patience.
Or any other disremembered day.

I couldn't have gotten there without a fight. Fight to win freedom as an illusion that makes solitude bearable. By now I just keep my shadow alive and with words as quiet as stains I can hear the fog while I walk backwards in circles.

I remember only to go blind, I look only to be numb, I feel only to be mute, I scream only to ignore, I notice only to fail, I try only to crash, I fly only to choke, I breathe only to forget.
I thrive only on chaos. And all the lights that light the way are blinding.

the zoo inside

So there's no elephant in the room. The huge red jumping elephant is long gone.
But there's always something. Maybe it's a giraffe, a rhinoceros, a flying pig or just a crocodile. We all get a "pet" like that, or sometimes a herd of them, or even an entire zoo.

There are however ways to deal with it.
Some ignore it, pretend they don't see it, buy zoo filtering glasses and go on with their lives as if there is no unbearable noise, foul smell, and terrible overcrowding. They may even try to move, but the zoo is sure to follow, they're quite good at tracking.
While others challenge the intruders, fight them, buy zoo-repellent sprays. They declare a full fledged war to the intruders and make their lives about getting rid of them.

Why not just acknowledge them, feed them, cleanup after them and live with them until they leave peacefully and on their own? Or maybe you won't need them to leave.

in between there's something else

Still incapable of tying my high hidden hopes to the obvious and clear appearances, I suffocate my intuition with facts and figures.
My imagination works extra-hours, wild with colorful fairytalish sounds, while I judge every detail with cold pessimistic logic.
Able to paint my mask with surgical precision; but when I don't, my face will expose me to the most inexperienced reader.
I will break down right in front of you with no fore-notice or good-enough reason but I will pull myself together when all hell is breaking loose.
I need to know precisely where I stand, count all measurements, make listed plans in order to create and entertain my chaos and comfortable anarchy of mind, word and objects.
Desperately seeking attention, getting the spotlight will only make me blush-and-go-hide.

I find myself continuously running back and forth between the extremes, bewildered sometimes to be at both ends at the same time. Exhausted, I look in between me and I to find a self that's inside-out, upside-down, inverted.

dac'as avea... o insula...

• de trei ori pe zi i-as schimba numele
• ieri as uita de ea
• maine si numai maine m-as duce acolo o saptamana
• ar fi pustie in fiecare zi intre orele 7 si 9 seara
• as face pe ea crescatorie de palarii, azil de cani si rezervatie naturala de triciclete
• raspoimaine as face-o firmituri si as da-o la porumbei sa o zboare
• noaptea as muta-o ca sa o caut ziua
• poimaine as exila acolo pe cineva pe care nu vreau sa-l mai vad, si acolo nu l-ar vedea nimeni
  
• as sapa-o gropi de ascuns ganduri negre
• in fiecare weekend as sechestra pentru o luna pe cineva acolo sa-si aeriseasca mintea
• as ploua-o cu stropitoarea ca sa rugineasca repede
• as planta o padure de leagane
• ai putea sta acolo 13 zile si 9 nopti fara sa intalnesti pe nimeni
  

give

sometimes I wake up missing something I never lost
sometimes I loose things I never had
sometimes I have things I never needed
sometimes I need things I never knew
sometimes I know things I never fought
sometimes I fight things I never understood
sometimes I understand things you never say
sometimes you say things I regret
sometimes I regret what I cannot forget
sometimes I forget things I am
sometimes I am the things I promised
sometimes I promise things you don't trust
sometimes I trust you to try
sometimes I try to tell the demons away
sometimes I tell myself enough is enough
sometimes I tell myself I'm not enough
sometimes I wish I was

and sometimes I can almost belive that even though I can't fight my own wars, I can win yours. and then you can quiet mine.
but some time I will give up if you give nothing.

choice. begging.

They say beggars can't be choosers. Most true. If you don't have anything and you're aching desperately for something, you take what you're offered. No comment. No fuss. You just take it and be grateful.

But there's also the other side of the coin. Choosers can't be beggars. As long as you have a choice, as long as you make a choice, there's no begging allowed. Embrace your choice. Own it.

So I'll make my choice such that I never have to need to beg.

the war

The worst thing about being at war with yourself is that no matter what you do, you always loose. And unlike the usual wars, it can also end without no one winning. Most of the times you just have a pretty good chance to loose on all fronts and in all ways.
And there will always be other casualties. Innocent bystanders who just happened in your life. Or even the people who care about either you or your sworn enemy self.
So what can you do? Well... you could do the cowardly thing and just run as fast you can. But really, do you honestly think you can outrun yourself? So please, for your sake, and mine, and theirs, offer me a truce and just try and get along.

people like doors like people

Reasons why people are like doors:

• some are transparent and automatically open to anyone that comes near
• they have spyholes to watch the outside world, and a few even have keyholes you can use to peep at the inside
  
• most have many complicated locks, but all can be opened with the right key(s)
• the outside rarely says the truth about what's behind
• forced entry breaks them
  

the neverlands

Lands of myth or truth, lands seen or heard, lands found at the end of rainbows or at the edge of the world, lands in one's head or dreams. Lands some reside in, lands some dream of, lands we visit, lands we run away from.

• neverenough - the land of want, the land of lust
• neverhappened - the land of lost memories
• nevershould - the land of broken rules
• neveragain - the land of regret
  
• neverhoped - the land of surprises
• neverme - the land of masks, of hidden selves
  
• neverdone - the land of the things not chosen, of paths not walked
• neverforgiven - the land of consequences
• nevertrue - the land of broken promises
• neverthesame - the land of lessons learned