Curse?

With that hand
on the back of my neck
Pulling my face to yours
in a movement
tender but firm

And with those lips
so confident
yet so soft
waiting for my response
and sure to get it.

You will always get me back
baby
from any hell
any haze
you will bring me back.

The fights

Wasted.

Lost.

Gone.

Forever.

Hours.

Minutes.

Days.

In suffering

Pain and hurt

Blown up in words.

All I need (Air)

Oh I know I know
I was in love with a ghost
You were never really there
I never really had you
But those moments of delusion
Those moments of effusion
They are mine
And I still cherish them.

I know you won't remember
This song
You won't feel the power
Of those notes in the dark
But does it matter?
The music means something to me
And it plays back for my memory.

I was in love with my creation
And it was inebriating
Infuriating
And everything I needed
At the time.

So, thank you.

 

A familiar companion

{Pain is a curious phenomenon. Migraines are even more disturbing. They play with your mind and make you doubt the existence of your own self. Maybe I like it. I find my relationship with migraine very sick at times.}

High on pain bzz
Nothing matters
Anymore.

This world is a little oblique
And my guts are in sweet agony.

I pop two more pills pshh
And a splash of water.

I close my eyes:
My inner realm
Is fizzy and buzzing,
Trying to expand.

I don’t smile
But I don’t care.
I shiver maybe
But honestly,
I’m almost content.

I have moments of calm
Between the waves.

Soft and mellow
And round like a pillow
Where my painful head
Can rest
Before it rises again.

Sometimes I wonder
If I loathe or if I love
My pains and my very loyal
Migraines.

Meditation

{when this happens, everything seems possible}

As the flow was unfolding in my chest
The air forced in there by me,
I was feeling butterfly wings
delicately deploying
in my flesh.

My lips were almost shivering
from wanting to part in ecstasy
but in truth I was not moving
paralyzed,
and pleased.

My body was just sitting there
In a material fabric chair
but something both dense and heavy
was escaping
from my eyelids.

Passion and anger and hatred
on their way vaporizing
letting go of what's in
that needs
to go.

Stuck

{too much stress or not enough ability to cope with it. I have always wondered why I was so sensitive and whether it had to be a bad thing}

Let's pretend
I didn't write this

let's pretend
you don't know who I am
and let's pretend
you won't be reading it

I have no place to hide

My head is filthy filled
by a fog of nauseating mist
by a hate for a life that hates me back

I have a rage boiling silently
under the coats of fabric
under the flesh and the skin

I want an out from all of this
and there is no escape

I feel as stuck as I feel weak

Giving up or giving in

I can't seem to do either
I keep stayin' stuck in between

Paris - Amour impossible

{from my last stay in Paris in January. This city and all it represents moves me deeply. Having roots is good}

Stomach knot. Mixed feelings.
Leaving tomorrow.
One week in Paris equals a confused lady.
One home - two homes, I am not sure, was I ever sure?
Whirlwind of friends, hugs, memories, family.

Scarves, hats, boots.
In the cold streets I fly above the ground.
Tired, elated, I slap the wet asphalt.
I feel stylish, I feel pretty,
I feel all the looks on me,
I feel all the the city watching me,
Supporting me.

Engulfing in the mouth of the subway,
I gasp and I warp in the warmth of the core
Of the capital.
I go places at the speed of the people.
I bond with my roots,
I belong.
I talk and I joke in the language I was raised in,
I am witty with so much ease
I am me.

But

I could not have been
The star of my own show
It could not have lasted
I always fall from my throne.
An angry reality
Always seems to get back at me.

Parents, and the dirty reality
Bitter, sad, nostalgic and heavy.
There is no escaping
Being belittled,
Being imprisoned,
Wanted to be deleted.

I go back in hiding.
I go back to being
Another me in another country.
Speaking and writing other ideas.
Allowing myself to invent a new life
Where memories don't tie me down
Where the future is not written.

But Paris

I will be back

Soon