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Posts Tagged ‘truth’

It was like the last time, in multiple ways. The positive way was the satisfaction of the call, as the place keeps calling me, over and over again. It probably is the southern location, the landscape, the slightly different tongue of the locals, the association with the first little exotic holiday, the exposed yellow white rock, the Roman and Baroque building style… Today the sky is blue and the sun is shining. Some sense of freedom emerges, as if the place is a place where I could belong. But why? I ascribe the answer to the call, because nothing ever kept me calling and holding my attention for this long.

The negative way was the repetition of another night of bad music, flawed laughing and uncomprehensive people. The pop love seemed all around, kicking me, with grinning teeth, and saying I am not able to embrace the light-hearted conversations, the acting crazy on behalf of the collective fun and the pretended lack of tiredness. One lumination was the dress code, and the fact this dress code wasn’t restricted to any club in particular, but seemed part of the streetview. Perhaps it was the old-known company – or me – that prevented eyes from meeting. Though as eyes-meeting during this kind of event is perhaps not the most cherished scenario, as the costumes mask the persons underneath them.

Inside I laughed when they said it was perhaps time to go home, because we had been downtown with all the dressed-up people and empty music for over nine hours. The little quarrel during dinner was useless now, but it shed some light upon the strength of character, or actually, the lack of it. It is so easy to claim rights on fun and forget about duty. So, it seems I miss a lot in people around, however they miss things in me too, no doubt.

Sometimes my thoughts hover over destruction of everything, to kill this striking stupidity I see all around. Loads of garbage scattered around in streets and on the squares – all plastics and paper – tons of meat to fill stomaches already filled with alcohol. Sometimes I thought of just leaving everything behind, cut and dye my hair, change clothes, move to the end of the world. Destruction of everything is doomed impossible, the everything spreads like a fungi across the globe, occupying more and more nature, people growing away from their roots, leaving behind people like me, who see, want to judge, but are judged upon as the ones guilty of disturbing the free life that should be filled with pleasure and nothing else, while the comments of my kind could also be envisaged as the answers to several important questions: how to treat Earth, how to treat each other, how to live right, how to change the current situation into a better one?

Honestly, nobody will listen, because these answers expose the responsibilities of the human race and diminish its rights to nothing more than the right to live, and the responsibility to die when time comes. Moving away and leaving everything behind could be my great escape, but will I be able to restrict myself from telling the truth to everyone? Because it is truth I want to tell and not some adjusted lie.

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All the way up to the place that keeps calling me. I can still hear the calls, distantly. But I cannot force my body to move and to obey the call. The canyon is too big. The bridge is too small. My heart is too severely damaged. If I could just go up there. And look down on everything that went wrong. To prevent myself from sinking into another sludge basin. ‘Cause who will drag me out? No one. I need protection. Or does everyone need protection against me?

The calls are everywhere and everyday. I want to obey, I promised, but sometimes I am tired and I just cannot concentrate. The flow of words is pushing and wants to spread it wings. So want I. Those who have wings fly their dreams. I have grown wings, beautiful white feathered angel wings. But I still cannot fly. They ruin my wings by robbing me from my innocence. They burn them by forcing me back into the past I want to forget. They rip my wings by expecting me to be anything I do not want to be. Bye bye wings.

Sweet calls. Magnificent dreams. Ugly occurrences. Feeling sorry, nearly guilty, but I have to keep telling myself I am not the one to blame. Taking responsibility is a grown-ups issue. I am only listening to what my heart tells me. Right now it is quite silent. A heavy, slowly beating lump within my chest. Do not exaggerate. Remain calm and imagine soothing rays of sunlight.

If I could just go up there and forget. Start all over again. Turn the feeding the lack of experience into a lack of experience with sweet, profound longing. If I could empty my head. And fix my heart. Right now it is paralysed and I refuse to wake it up before the whispering pain has gone. For it is only very seldom a sparkle of hope touches my soul and revives the sweet urge to surrender to the call of life.

Just to write. To get rid of bad thoughts, I guess. But writing makes me feel relieved. No matter what I write about. Who am I kidding when I tell you I had a rough night on December 12th 2006, I woke up with someone next to me I could not remember on September 17th 2007, I met and lost the love of my life in spring 2001 and my first kiss was so bad I immediately stopped seeing the guy (or girl, I can’t remember…)? Would you believe me if I told you I enjoy looking into your blue-green eyes, and laying my head down on your shoulder, and crying while I tell you all those things I have never told someone before? Will you swallow me if you’re asked to do so? And will you stop hating me if I asked you to do so?

Little smiles within my chest. I see the sun shine in your eyes and I hear the birds` whistles chase away your haunting screams. If I can get you out of my head, to make some room for sane thoughts… Is it too much? Because somewhere between all the looking-backs and miserable feelings, there is a girl with a friendly smile who likes to write just to write. And she refuses to write anymore words on the people who hurt her.

My wings feel heavy, but comfortable, they are partly healed, but capable of carrying me. I will obey the calls. And fly away with or without telling you idiot(s) which of the above is truth or false.

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the seducing scent

little patches of semi-love

scratches become scars

memories that never fade

the moon cries

soothing raindrops made of light

the eyes meet again

and bring her down

the angels linger

call out for the crimson lips

small destination

weakened excuse

the moaning cuts

mixed up fake and truth

shameless disguise

rarely ever heard

the solitary words

losing sight on her faith

the breathing gagged

the cunning revealed

the infinity whispers

liscencious slave

leave the innocence

the coreless divine

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