sobota, 26. oktober 2013

Zlatolaska


Ko se ponovno znajdem razpredena v napol zelenem kotlu belega mesta, mi med gubami zapoje misel o nenavezanosti. Oddaljen spomin me izriše drugačno, rahlo opito in prekajeno. Brez pike, brez končne točke. Vse kar želim, je v tem trenutku, brez potapljanja v varnost in osrediščenje na utrip drugega. Jaz in odmevi preteklih razkolov, lepljenj, drhtenj. Čudim se odmevu sten, ki ga ni, kadar On ublaži praznost življenja.

torek, 13. avgust 2013

sem

Tik preden izdih izpodrine vdih, se ji stvarstvo zatakne v grlu. Postopoma premaguje željo po zamerljivem ihtenju in preskakuje dneve z mislijo na resničnost, ki jo ujame nepripravljeno tik preden se zbudi. Zatilje je dodatno skodrano od napora spanca, prsni koš se le malo dviguje. Zelo plitko in s strahom izmenjuje zrak, zelo globoko opazuje pogled ljubezni. Stresa jo nepogum, močno začinjen s cinizmom in zatohlo radostjo. Skoraj vsak dan se napol zavestno postrga iz postelje in pridušeno spotakne nazaj v zaščitniško rutino. Poezija se je neopazno izmuznila iz njenega srca, brez nje pa ne zna prevajati življenja.

sreda, 30. januar 2013

and then there was ...

Včasih se razlijem med svetovi, kot da me v enost ne veže nič lepljivega. Razprostrta med resničnostmi se utekočinjam v eno plast. Nezapomenljivo. Čisto malo histerično. Le toliko, da še oddajam nekaj podobnega vibraciji.
Mrkujem. Zelo počasi. V oljnih odtenkih.
K sebi me lahko spravi le udarec komolca v rob omare. Tak, ki odzveni skozi celo telo in pusti rdečo izdolbino v opomin na nablodo, ki me skoraj prikrajša krasote bivanja v človeškem telesu in vseh naslad, ki pridejo s tem.

torek, 21. februar 2012

madame

a clawless cat and a wolverine
hand in hand
teeth to teeth
shedding skin

blindfolded agony
seeking shelter
in the night

tail friction, an edgeless must
nothing but yellow moss left behind

she purrs and whispers
licking the salt off his fur

he gently bites
teaching her how to howl

Will you be there when I fall?

nedelja, 12. februar 2012

Kiss me goodnight. Kiss me on a good night.

It's easy for her to forget she is more than an echo of a heartbeat, a thought that got away. If she was given a body and a life, what is it you want her to do with them? I don't think she can pretend she is human any longer.

If this in-between state of dwelling is her destiny, don't tease her with promises you can't keep. It is making her sea-sick. And you know how hard it is to travel with nausea wrapped around your heart. It makes joy almost impossible.

nedelja, 05. februar 2012

Walk.Write.Wait.

The craving never stops. It gets louder, but never changes color.
She is only a shadow. A projection of a thought.

She shifts between depths breathless and shapeless. Nightfall perpetuates all hidden lusts.
Hunger doesn't live here anymore.

Blood drips from her nose as she waits for a pink future.