Blessed With Effortlessness

An old memory

2010-05-22T19:07:00.000+02:00

The oddness of the entire situation… How to mend a broken heart? As my plimsolls touched the well-known pavement I looked over my left shoulder and imagined your face was smiling back at me, like it once did. Like a translucent ghost the image haunted my feverish brain for a single moment, it flickered, and disappeared again. What was left? You wiped away the footprints we once left on the beach.
Pebbles seem so discomforting now.
I suddenly realised that I was looking through a foreigner’s eye, noticing those onlookers we used to be oblivious to. Do you remember finding ourselves kissing in the sun, near that café where they didn’t serve food? And the man on the balcony, who seemed to resemble a tomato? Your face has become a screensaver by now. An old photograph, bringing back sepia-coloured bitter-sweet memories. The last words you said to me were the ones I craved to hear the most
but I will never find out what they actually meant.

2010-01-18T19:07:00.000+01:00

Out there is a world of death surrounding me, regardless of the difference between love and misery.
The walls are coming down, they are trying to show me the world that’s out there, where the moon is only visible because of the sunlight that shines upon it.

Work in progress: I couldn’t care less.

My brain is hypnotized by drugs and my mouth repeatedly forms the never-ending words “cigarette smoker”
as I’m hopping on and off the little bench. My coloured legs cannot touch the same ground that keeps my ignorant mates together. They both tried to escape through a hole in the ground, but failed
when they saw their futures going up in the very smoke that escaped from their lungs.
Turn down the lights and light a cigarette
to set the building on fire instead.

“A pathetic fantasy” you called it,
and when you picked up your instrument you simultaneously dropped your accent.
We must make lyrics out of human flesh. We could be romanticists if we hadn’t turned into miscreants made out of mathematics.
The world is pressing hard upon my chest, trying to steal the smoky breath you blew into my lungs. But your spine won’t remember me tomorrow, and the lovebite in your neck will be the only proof of my existence.
Alright.
I’m going to turn off my phone and leave humanity alone.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

2009-07-04T01:33:00.001+02:00

Distortion. We need distortion.
We need it so badly to erase all the misspelled words we have written on the walls. We intended to cover the world with our unique handwritings to reach the people out there. Yet we don't know them: we've just been at their parties where we took sips from their glasses of wine.

You should recycle your thoughts.

2009-06-17T20:51:00.005+02:00

And in case you'll never meet me

you'll always have someone to dream of.

2009-06-17T20:40:00.004+02:00

Time is passing by
slowly, so that I
don't even try
to stop it or just to
enjoy it like I used to
counting down the days
that are left until I
will no longer see their faces
Everyday
Every laugh
Every cry
splitting up slowly, being torn apart
within a few months there will be a new start
But for now let me just rest
let me rest in peace
Thoughtless
Guiltless
Anonymous
I will cease
to worry about lives that are not my own.

trilbyhats 'n' cigarettes

2009-05-13T21:14:00.001+02:00

While writing uninspired poetry
based on trilbyhats
and cigarettes
just filling empty pages
I'm aware that
the thoughts that seemed hidden in my head
must have lingered there for ages

~

2009-05-13T21:11:00.000+02:00

This reminds me of the
long summer evenings we
spent lying in the tall
grass, pretending we
had no parents
and that the day
would never end.

To my friend.

2009-05-06T16:48:00.002+02:00

I have a friend and the door to his heart has this key:
a random joke and a bottle of whiskey.
This friend of mine's rather fascinating
He's either sleeping or procrastinating
He always goes to bed at 4 in the morning
and wakes up in the afternoon to spend a few hours yawning

Lad, it's amusing when you waste yourself
along with wasting time
Nevermind, I like you anyway
You cheerful mate of mine

There’s a part of his character I particularly like:
He tends to send me texts in the middle of the night,
Containing some information he needs to share with me
Like the fact that he’s considering to buy a bonsai tree
And besides, he always forgives me the next morning
When he wakes up early due to the fact I phone him

My lad, I’m rather glad
I’m the one you always forgive
(Though you like to tease me with
The small town in which I live)

Now then, raise your glass with a well-meant “Cheers!”
And drink to the next unavailing years.

ink

2009-04-19T15:56:00.000+02:00

With a pen I was writing words on his arm

He suddenly turned his head to discover what I had done

He tried to erase what once had been mine

The ink on his arm formed a single blue line

I'd left a mark, an infinite sign.