Five poems story

1

I wake up; to you.
Your lovey face; I remember you.
You are here, too?

Sitting upright.
Putting glasses on.
Squinting.
It’s bright here.
Velvet behind me.
It will look thinner on the other side.

Looking out to a vast landscape.
Greens and yellows and blues and pastels.
This space lacks toxicity.
This room is filled with finest aromas.

And I get it now.
I just appeared here.

My body isn’t aching.
My heart is filled.
Tenderness in the air.

I look at you, moving around effortlessly.
Seemingly less confused then me.
Since when have you been here?
Is this my, or is it your idea?

Soft voices fill the air.
Ours.
I speak without noticing.
So easy here.

Your words, your touch.
Ecstasy.
So real, here.

The fleeting moment that lasts an eternity.
The possible peace.
The possible freedom.

Behind a vail.

20

For a touch I reach through walls.
Just so, I can feel something.

A smile and no response.
Thinking and spinning.
Head in circles.

Pulling my head over my shoulders.
Up on my hair.
To see more.

I watch people praying into their shrine.
And know I won’t be heard there; they don’t speak my language.
While a car roles over me.
Nearly.

How do I bare a thought that ain’t mine?
How do I feel an emotion right out of your heart?

Do I look at you when you look away?
Do I see your dress that spells out nemesis?

Where do years pass and leave no mark?
On my face.

You run, I see.
I am just set to fall.

We dance to tunes we play.
Finally I feel freedom like a bitter sweet taste.

The things I have seen change me, chase me.
I follow your eyes as they stare away.
I follow your head on the ground, rolling, freshly chopped of and blood still oozing.

Drained, free of lust, free of everything, I still have tears.
The flames in my smiles burn brighter then candles in sunlight.

What we do in the night, we never do in the shadows.
Why?

My screams produce no sonic airwaves.
My words induce no reactions.
My funeral will provoke no tears, for all the whiskey I will force attendees to drink.

The letter draws words on a wall in green.
Today I would prefer blue.
For My green is a colour of death.
And I have changed enough this month.

Like a bumblebee I only smell flowers and come to see.
When has my invisibility come off?
Since when do blossoms respond?

Too many thoughts for one poem, but I won’t make them 3.

Writing, while walking, mind open as if on LSD and I miss smoking pot.

Little park in Shibuya, but I won’t sit today,
Life’s still calling me back to thee.

All the questions I could answer, if someone just asked.
And all the answers I would seek, if I could direct them.

The air carries my whispers somewhere to sound like messages from down below.
Keep your blessings y’all and just speak to me.

Twenty minutes and 500 light years further and I still see no rest.
I always become what I have always been.

The fleeting emotion you cannot understand.
The one to long for without a grasp.
The heart broken ever again.
The loneliness you fear when you are not alone.
The heart you let go, without a fight.

And I thank you.
You make me an experience.

Twenty-two

Little boy praying at the shrine.
For good grades?
With his grandmother judging his antics.
I hope, he will be heard.

My watchful eyes fly around the streets.
But they do not meet.
Just see.

Seeing all these people in crowds.
Scattered on floors, lifting themselves up on towers.

No tears to divide us, now.
It’s unfortunate that we can feel the same, but never speak.
It’s wondrous that we can just move, pass, watch and never see.
Always in circles or spheres or bubbles.

Answers always hurt, my love.
Questions best always asked, my love.
Confronting us on every step of our ways, my love.

My love, a shadow in dusk.
My heart, a flame in sunlight.
My mind, poetry under your eyes.

Dancing straight ahead, we think.
Dancing through walls, I see.
Dancing straight into bed, you wish.

Blessed, we fall apart.
Cursed, we fall into one another.
Neither brings us closer.

And always 2, duality.
Two directions.
Two realities.
Two others.
Two sides of the vail.

Look at your keypad.
It was designed by a lonely person.
Two, leads to five, leads to eight, leads to zero.
Straight down.

And your smiles cannot mask your pain.
My words cannot conjure joy.
Yet nothing creates itself a future within all this.
Perhaps nothingness is the end of all this.

And the beginning.
In loops, circles, spirals.
Whichever way we choose.
Somewhere we end, somewhere begin.
In between we eat up joy and wonder.
We kick and scream.
Lay down together, tearing apart at all seams.
Or kiss and mean—something.

40–one

I am very quiet.
The noise in my head is loud enough.
Tipping on my toes around.
To not wake the sleeping monsters of regret.
Holding back tears, to give up.
And letting the rain do it for me.
I am not good at searching for solace.

Again, I am scared of letting go.

Best to walk down, before I jump these 10 floors.
These thoughts come easily.
Making it easy, to take a life.
And since I know, easer to stay alive.

In the distance shadows move.
Watching my own following yours.
I write for you and burn the words one by one.
Can you trust me now?
Just step off the stage, silently.

Playing with words, playing with life, making reality mine.
I wish you could sing for me, a consoling song.
Only, I hear a quiet laugh.

Not nasty, not belittling.
Full of sorrow, though.
Not knowing what to do.

Don’t worry about me, when I am depressed.
Cry for me when I quite and alone.
Cover me.
Come for me.
Cuddle me.

When I pull out my needles, to tattoo my bad side, visibly.
Writing in fine script over my tender skin.
Take the needle and help me writing your name.
Fingers on my spine.
Delicately following this line.

I was not, what you expected.
Later you gave up to see what I showed.
For now.

I want to read to you all I wrote.
Shouting it out into the darkness that surrounds us.

I still taste your first kiss.
Mixed in with cigarettes.
And poetry.

Words to take your pretty face and smudge it with love.
I am devastated.

Quietly looking over to you.
Sitting down and reflecting light from a screen at night.

I am so hungry for your words.
So hungry for your touch.
So thirsty for help.

My shadow touches your skin all over again.
Electrifying.
Perhaps a little terrifying.
A flirt is a promise.
Did you forget?

I loosen the screws on my thumbs that held down my scale.
Need to loosen myself a bit more.
Loosen my head.
Unscrew it.
Throw it off.

I wish to hear you don’t feel nothing.
But I only hear the air.
Emptying a space between here and there.

Fifty and 3

The smile on my face is fragile.
I smash it with my fist like glass.
And with it my fears.

Every thought is a prayer they say.
I don’t go for places of gods anymore.
And only ever pray for clarity.

I have taken your life in me.
The bits and pieces you chose.
And I know you have, too.

Your smile — as twisted as mine.
Our pain, revealing, yet hidden.
Always.

I am waiting for you.
In ruins, in paths of flowers, swimming in lakes.
We wait to awake.

Get drunk differently tonight.
Fall asleep in a bright flash of light.
And dream of your chosen path.

Down here below where I hear your whisper, I feel you ever present.

The words we can use, taste bitter now.
We choose not to speak.
Only see — each other.

I look ahead into an endless blue.
Lush greens, so unlike the colours I use.
It’s pastel and sweet.

Expression and impression.
Though, it often is the other way around.

I look fabulous today. Did you see?
You astonish. Simply.

At the Small Alley Cafe we take seat.
No forced smiles.
Still no words.
Glances beyond wall, vails, boundaries.

That nose over there, sits perfectly, between ears, below eyes, in shapes still fresh, unknown to me.
Quietly I romanticise.

Cracking a smile; it shatters again.
The pieces fall on the table before me.
Wide eyed, you look at them.

You put down your hand, carefully, to not cut it open on me.
I hesitate to take —
it.
Both we wait.

Emotions play over our faces, without a muscle moving.
I take your hand; phasing in and out of reality.
Where could a path lead, we now choose.

You are thinking of my whispers.
You heard them advancing like an avalanche.
You never thought, I could cover you.

Your words are brief.
My smile lasts.
Unscarred.

You have chosen my visibility, ripped away the shadows I lived in.
And I feel every misstep I made.
We have both stumbled a lot to get here.

I have missed you all along.
And you knew I was good.
Alone.

And I remain the loneliness you fear, when you are not alone.
Now and here we live.
Always apart in flesh.
Sometimes one in mind.

Your smile, my smile, lips to meet.
Fingers touched.
Arms wrapped.
Floating, like.
Invisible to anyone,
Visible to us.

Finally we speak.
Words like rivers.
Thoughts like trees.

We go too far.
Right, where we need to be.

2019/08/21–09/03