mad with grief

can't say a word

against the dark dark skies

White kites, love letters. As proud as this year's winter, strained swan's breast. Adamant.
They fly to above the coast and tremble over the water. I cry but the wind drowns my voice out. They wait for the signal from the lighthouse, I pray for it not to come. Otherwise I'll never see this face again, this whiteness, the trembling.
White kites, love letters. Surrender flags, pure hearts. They're gonna take away everything that's alive inside of me.

out, out, out

I think I've attained perfection in avoiding people.
I buy some ready to eat shit at the bakery so that I don't even have to make a sandwich in our shared kitchen.
I leave all the work for late evening; when I finally emerge from my room with my zombie face, everybody's already asleep.
I take the earlier bus to the university so that I don't run across the guys from my classes.
I don't see, hear; I turn my eyes away. Hoping they won't recognize my face, won't see, won't find out.
Still the best way to avoid people is to stop being at all. Which is especially brilliant a solution as it sets me free from myself as well.

and what I'd like most most most of all is

a place hidden so deep deep deep inside that even I can't see, hear or feel myself any more.

:|

what I love about academic essays is that you can't write that water is wet unless someone has already written it in a serious paper. that happens to be inaccessible at the university's library of course.

'happiness is nice warm breast'

this whole shit has done something strange to my head. the train of thoughts is making my brain totally useless when it comes to reasoning or at least having the noises quieted, the glare is blinding and I can't set me free from just one thought, one picture, one feeling.
and then suddenly comes a dream, all night long, the most sensual and incredible stuff ever, more than I would be able to create in a daydream.
the hunger afterwards is growing and swelling, making me feel alive in spite of the circumstances that got fucked up all the way. making me want to hunt. to break through.
I know the chances are slim, but. Dear life, please, don't screw up again.

the wall is the wall and i've got it times four

today it feels as if i were the only person on earth.
something that i'm not particularly enthusiastic about.

p.s.

http://www.fotopolis.pl/galeria/BiennaleMaurycy-Gomulicki-PUSSY-MANDALA-022.jpg

I do find it beautiful.

"Gesture of Balance" by Tarthang Tulku

"Rinpoche: The purpose of teaching is to give people disappointment. People need
disappointment! There is always disappointment if we expect something."

"Student: I expect disappointment - I don't need that!"

"Rinpoche: That is the only way you can wake up. As soon as more disappointment comes,
you can wake up."

:

I'm just lost for words. I've been through some stuff, I've read quite a lot and heard quite a lot.
but still. this time I'm just lost for words.

<< RE

rewind, rewind.
it wasn't me, i didn't get into this.
get back back back.
the streets the hours the touches the pride the sounds the smiles the dreams the hopes the words the trust the tastes the kisses the yawns the calls the journeys the plans
the
love

must not have been there
rewind
cancel
escape

i wake up i cry cry i eat i piss i work i drink drink drink i miss i don't understand i wait i can't believe i talk i run i try not to think i force myself to forget i plan i ask i beg i get pissed off i curse i write i howl i wish it were a dream i fear i try to escape i long to & yearn for i lie on my bed i worry i agree i don't let it show i guess i'm slowly going crazy

I always thought that I would follow you

turn back time

have all the lies back

hints

we need hints
before we get tired
now we need hints
before we loose pace
now we need a hint
to know we're on the right track

funny. i think it funny.

it was a grand plan that I thought up. but i got missed out.

without ancestors, without future; without continuum and without my place in time and space. i have to begin afresh, again. wait till there are only ashes left, till everything has died out – and then begin to call bread, water and sun their names. not listening to my intuition, which says that this time again i'll manage to go only a few steps forwards before my plan secedes from me and walks away, leaving me without connections, without context, without face.

what the hell are you doin'

another phenomenon I refuse to understand is when a mother is yelling at her kid when it's fallen over on the slippery icy pavement.

[proven to be an international behavior.]

that's what flatmates are for

me: life doesn't give a shit about me.
she: well, if it didn't, you wouldn't have such hair.

little, little heart
what you gonna do

lost your faith a bit
got a pain
sunk
into deep, deep water
dark, dark time

little, little heart
goddamn piece of flesh

silenced

Something has broken, the stabbing has subsided. I'm like a gigantic fish thrown by the waves onto a warm shallow. You can't actually live here, but for vegetation it's just fine. I don't insist to know whether the answer's YES or NO any more – it was brave to search for that, but totally exhausting. Just let me descend; the meaning has faded anyway.

i just don't want this story to be a sad one. so much.

today the world looks like a stinking copulating dog to me.

god save the chick

So today I came across a blog of a chick that has a major dilemma being in love with [and being loved by] a girl suffering from schizophrenia. The other one takes some pills that might stop working any time, writes the blogger. And so she describes how tormenting it is, having to decide between her common sense and emotions.
At first I wanted to post a comment saying: relax, you won't get infected.
After a while I kind of really got pissed off and was about to write how I felt sorry for the schizophrenic girl.
But then I thought, how objective am I? if being with a schizophrenic person in a relationship means you're acting on the edge of reason, maybe my depressive/anxious/phobic disorders qualify me for a lifelong celibacy – for the society's sake??

One day, it will happen
One day, it will all come true.

I can already see us sitting on that bench in a sunny park, light spots all over the place.

One day, when you're ready
One day, when you're up to it.

Or I'll find myself again in that movie theater next to You, watching Euphoria.

One day it will happen
One day, one day it will all make sense

Calm, calm will it be. Time measured with the breath of a sleeping one. The puff of wind playing on the soft, peaceful temple.

One day, you will blossom
One day, one day when you're ready.

Safe, low. The tears, fright and absence as a distant memory.
I bless You.

the hourglass

in 6 weeks I'll get out of here.
9 weeks ago You came to see me.
4 weeks ago was our last day together in P.

I'll have to wait forever to see You again.

I'll toss my coins in the fountain
Look for clovers in grassy lawns
Search for shooting stars in the night
Cross my fingers and dream on

come, the tree of goods

it is always convenient to be able to find the peace of yours. "living under the rules of Buddhism wouldn't harm any of us". composure planned for the future, wishful thinking.
the best part is, when you need to gain the balance immediately. right here, right now. there's no other way out and there is no time. funny, when you curse it and beg it to come, and then you pretend it's already here.
you haven't managed to learn how to be calm.
hard luck, now go and improvise.

'things got fucked up', said the Queen

the Queen glances. she approaches the gramophone and leans over a precipice. the crowd holds their breath.
the Queen has pearls on and the smoothest skin. through her country there are warm pulsating air streams flowing.
the Queen wants to leave the country. the sun starts fading.
the Queen is a Queen of spades. the finest chocolate.
the Queen is pale and has a whim. all right then. all right.
she balances over that precipice, her sweat has a low, sweetish scent. her sigh. her back bends in a triumphal arch.
i pay homage.