half hollow

May 22, 2013 § Leave a comment

Smiles

gestures

blabber shit

meaningless pit –

most of times

I’m sane,

misplaced,

anywhere around

 

I laugh

I’m sad

I’m happy

I’m fucking satisfied

but instead

I’m a surface of null

a copycat

of the shit around.

 

I don’t –

I’ve never –

care for meaningless

if I’m or not

it just doesn’t matter

at least no more

than things around

seem to.

 

Order

neat

obligations

preoccupations.

O, if I could get rid of it.

 

Sometimes

I show that me,

half-hollow,

like a black hole

I’m something

yet nothing

But then –

when the sight trespass –

what am I

to someone,

but a fucking black hole.

I’m never attached

 

Then

it’s smiles

gestures

pile of shit

everything you please

that’s how I get by.

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five and mad

May 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

I stare at the clock –

it is fucking 5 AM.

Hitting itself,

noisy.

 

And I’ve got nowhere to go

I hear no thoughts

and bear no light

but it’s still so dark outside.

 

Come to think

it is not I who stares at the clock

it is the clock watching me

and it never judges

although everything it sees

every second be.

 

It channels me –

wakes me up,

puts me to sleep.

Although it’s never so simple.

 

-key

Death of death

April 8, 2013 § Leave a comment

Death is certainty

and sureness’ in always in doubt.

 

Worse than death

Is the death of your certainty.

 

When you feel perished

But you’re not;

And there’s no heartbeat

Though you can easily breathe.

 

In a pit somewhere

The limbo hole

Can’t look down

Can’t look up

If you’re flying or falling

No one possibly knows

There’s no foward

and there’s no back.

 

You’re part of an eternal loop –

A loop of yourself.

 

And you’re lost

In the vines of your mind.

 

I hope someday you can at ease rest.

 

In the endless pit

we feel the lack

No sorrow –

And certainly no faith.

The songless pit

is the death of death.

Strings and Plugs

April 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

I never found my glasses

I spit my soul here and there

Round around as if in a forest in hell.

 

But I’ve tried.

Hell, I’ve tried.

 

I want to feel the cold

And heat myself up with coffee

All the day long;

But I only feel the hotness

Though I heat myself still.

 

I have no rear mirror to look back

So I have to turn back my head

And a gut feeling warns me

Never to walk while looking back.

 

I see now the strings I tender

I never meant to have them perished

And never wanted it to leave me.

Sometimes it’s not my decision to make;

Or so I guess.

 

So if a string is weak

and ready to die,

Let the plug go as well.

It’s useless without it.

 

I’ll pull it off

Rather than trying to fix it afresh.

And let it all be.

 

As renew is a fake word –

It conceals the past time.

And pretends it is a whole new road.

 

Somehow, and that’s optimistic,

I’ll find another new string and plug;

And back at start line.

 

Key

Meet me in the nearest mountain

August 17, 2012 § Leave a comment

Bumped trunk in the forests’ grass

I see no road to ride

and sides covered vastly by the seems

 

Travel wide and far

stoically heard those words

kept your feet on go

 

And it shifts, o, it shifts

bursting down the ladder you climbed

praying for someone that never hails

 

Meet me then in the nearest mountain

where the shatters are mine

and falling is fine

 

Meet me in the nearest mountain

hanged, petrified in one only place

swinging the chorus of life

 

And in the nearest mountain

one will you find me intermittently

I calmly await

staring the calm lawn

far away from where you are now.

 

– Key

Gashed emotions

July 31, 2012 § Leave a comment

Who am I trying to pretend?

I say myself

sought skies

it never answered me nigh

it is never lucid

I felt alive again.

 

I pretend a silver blade

it is made for my mind

for when it decides

for when it starts to recite

one pellucid knife

sheathed though prompt to slash,

it is told to my mind.

 

One of these days it took a train

and from the noise formed

could not stand to pretend

a gust with dust stationed in me

one no ceiling could shield.

 

For I never bought this blade

no cash could lay its dirty hands

and those blister shall slowly heal

until then I keep skinning the hopes

skinning lucid in every train.

 

But, o, fear I feel

the blade someday will lose

its sharpened silver edge

and my mind will smile at me

bragging its win

and torn apart from logic once again I will be.

 

Thought-Laceration.

The coffee in my table awaits me

it is getting impatient

the mug remembers me

the blade still has its sharp

and it has been cutting some emotions

I get from getting on those trains of mine

 

For some time it will keep gashing,

cutting,

bringing down emotions,

until I bear no more.

 

Key.

I see the morning awaking

June 30, 2012 § Leave a comment

I see the morning awaking

Its lights blues in my face

Was I close to faint

My eyes I scratch as I become sane.

 

A stout man

Full of dreams

I had born in me.

 

Although I lay

in my berth

Hundred times in days

But I come,

O, I come,

Undone as the morning goes.

 

I live the black

I snooze in gray

I awake in blue

I die in noon.

 

I see the morning awaking

But it is time

I’d rather sleep, tired.

 

I see the morning awaking

I wonder why

I look so deep in the sky.

 

Thinking thigh

Clinching mine

I see the morning awaking

deep upwards in sky.

– Key.

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