strapped to the doubt
embracing anything which
oozes from the screen
severed cable white
thrown to the ground
dripping blood
stale air heated yet cold
sickening light
such fragile protection
morning glow blocked out
when my feet touch the pavement
it’s still dark outside
in l. 1
26.10.07
stillness and the covers warmth
night’s darkness like another blanket
this place should be so cosy
yet it’s often place for pain
in the moments before sleep takes me
thoughts unwind
memories unfold
and everything they do is hurt.
Sometimes I imagine how it’d be
to hear your voice right there and then
and I dream It’d hold me back
save me from another wound
and then I wish I could
just turn around and see you there
hold you till there’re no more tears
or shivers, cries or cuts.
bittersweet thoughts
since you’re so far
yet close
I’ll never call it a dream again
’cause dreams as whises
never come true
but for the pity life I hold
I want this to come true.
black cloth the shelter
covering up what was in the past
wounded so often
no slowly healing
yet unaware of recent smiles
with sickness of my body the
shrieks are getting louder again
demanding a prize for a moment of peace
and I should walk now
let them remain their and blindly
hunt my shadow yet
at this time of night there is
not enough strength to walk away
wings are restless
won’t flap in anger
just standing in blackness
wearing it
to protect this fragile skin
to protect hope
are you there as well
somewhere in all this
if I’d just run
would I find you
listening for footseps and watching the moon
I think I know
but as much as it protects
it restricts
feeling suffocation
can’t scream the voices down
therapy
distanced from it
they say it’s supposed to help
this talking
when you just tug hard enough
this foil around a soul
might just come loose.
hidden behind it
attitude and bearing
old man and tired of it
that’s how they feel about it
so scared away.
all just a cover
some people know
to hide and to push away
reality
or something
and I’m not even certain
of that.
Oath
Interesting why this isn’t posted yet. Maybe I thought it was too private. Then again what isn’t here? And as I read it again I realize it isn’t clear who I am adressing. That’s good. Really. Because if someone feels spoken to, they are (quite possibly).
29.9.07
watching from the place I was banished to
the place where I belong
the movents you all make a screenplay somedays
I find it difficult to find my role
yet it’s easy to spot
who fucks up the script
not only breaks parts
but the actors behind it
their souls are masks
and they die with their role
of wings of selcusion
I glide above
and my heart is with all of them
the figures in my life
those who matter
looking from this place
I see you breaking apart
and I’m away
was send there
but your tears make me say it again
call me and I’m there
for you and for all
black wings will cover you
bury the pain under them
and if that’s what you want
I’ll kill everyone who stands between
you and peaceful sleep .
See picture attached. I had it in mind among other things while writing this.
15.10.07
staring blankly ahead
her eyes have given up
surrendered to the dark
her feet are cold and wet
those stones she corssoes
leave tiny scratches and cuts
yet not a sound comes across her lips
her mind is held elsewhere
this nightwalk takes her to a bridge
it’s vast bulk grimy and even
colder than her skin
the stream beyond catches her
empty gaze of blindness
her fragile hands grasp the banister
no regards to the moon as she jumps
there’s no pain as she dies
her body was already numb
the eyes
closed and sold
because there was nothing worth seeing
7.10.07
staring into an unfinished dream
waiting for something to move
for you to move
I can’t supress the fear
the doubts
because that what always blossoms
no matter what seeds were used.
What do you mean
how do you feel
why aren’t we talking
why are we using
a language made of verses and numbers
why
why
aren’t you in my arms
or be it more precise
when the lights go out
why do we feel alone?
exploration
on the subject of doubt
(written today)
doubt moves
fluffy little wings
and, what’s that
did I see a knive?
on my shoulder it sits
little scaly dragon
his name is Tvilsom
sounds vaguely nordic to me
it never stops whispering into my ears
it adds depth to meaningless details
I feel doubt in my head
seeds of a conflict
‘that’s not what she meant’
I say and stare ahead
but it pricks me suddenly
cuts into my skin
this little wingéd creep
chase it away from my shoulder
I don’t want to hear
it’s false tales.
question time again
9.10.07
crush
is it compelled
a lie
gasoline in water
so it just has to burn?
drawn
is it forced
to turn out
this shape
pencil lined heart.
bad case of nerves
I think everyone has one once in a while.
—-
7.10.07
nighttime
moon forms an ugly eclipse
issuing a call
a bad case of nerves
my shadows wavers when I move
a bad case of nerves
muttering in tongues I can’t understand
a bad case of nerves
a bad case of nerves
falling from the wall that held me
a few metres seem so long
I wish I’d fall forever
it’s so sweet compared to the crash
a bad case of nerves
it ends up in a human ball
hugging the knees and wimpering
something drove me away
something stronger than this moon
no
just a bad case of nerves