i am carrying you in my dreams, in my heart, when i drive down schonhauser boulevard. the night is crispy cold but i have a heater, i remember the driving and i remember our love clearly.
people say, oh my god, can't you let go already, or things like, you aren't really over him yet, huh
but it's not quite like that. i smile, genuinly, when i think of you and your love now. and i mean that girl.
it is not like that at all. i just - still carry you in my heart. i can't really do anything about it or maybe i just don't want to, not soon, anyways. it is precious to me, in many ways, and while the painful tides have ebbed i still make you room in my thoughts, in my mind, in my heart, in my soul, when i drive down the alley, when i sing a song.
see, there was a dream once, about you and me in this city. i was here and you begged me to come back. and i did and we had our time. we shared some of it. and things were in the open, they have always been, and even though you predicted some fatalities and knew that some thing were inevitable, i fought against this notion, believing one could forge more than one thought. and sometimes, more than one ought to. you know, so what. now it's come that way. maybe it will be as predicted and people say, well, see.
but i still think, it is so wide and open. this life. and we can't see. only so far. and love is the one thing that pervades and penetrates all these time layers and frames and countries. these walls and if's and should haves and haven't. the not's and the yesses, the things that tear us apart and merge our souls in the eternal some when in the later.
i talk of you with tenderness and pain in my voice, sweet, sweet the sting. and i don't know if i will ever meet my friend again, and i don't know if and how i will ever meet you again but i hope it will be in the magic of the now.
it is what it is
maktub
says the alchemist
as it is written.

nina

how i love you girl. the way you laughed at the beach, swirling staff and poi, dancing with the wind. you moved like reed, singing to the stories carried on the wings of old.
see, i can't put this in words...the mornings i woke at sara's place, her room like a beacon in the sky. like a ship stirring into the unknown. and then you came along. and you made everything so beautiful. your eyes, your way of looking at things in a way that revealed all the magic and beauty in the tiniest details. your soft voice breaking through encrusted wounds and walls that i had built in an effort to survive.
soft and strong your energy and love, elusive and tangible in the same time.
the morning you woke me at 6 am crying on the phone. the opening in your soul that you let me see and let me into your life. i remember driving down to where you lived and your brave, courageous self, trying to scramble the shatters of the unexpected from the floor, trying to piece yourself back together, check with the parameters, the axioms and the coordinates of your system.

soaring into the sky. transcending the old, flying into a now filled with life and new and song.

i feel a little bit like sitting in a train on a journey with an unknown destination. the feeling of thrilling anxiety and curiosity mingled with the feeling of the fatality inherent to the sounds of the train's determined and irreversibly rolling wheels on the tracks takes over as i sit and look into the face of my new, oh so new life. this is a new chapter, whether i want it or not, and as i am still revelling and suffering in the afterglow of the last one, i feel how a fresh wind is taking my ship into a new direction.

where we go

i don't know

spark

a small tiny little spark only. but your smile ripped some of the clouds apart. i am listening to the beach house on myspace. i revel in photographs of golden times when i was barely 18 years old. and my mind keeps wandering off to the moment the videochat came through yesterday night. and that smile of yours.
today in the doctors office i was reading such interesting articles on movements in the anthroposophical scene. young people opening their minds, asking difficult questions and such. great!
and i. i sit in the doctors office and read. then i think of you. and smile.
there is so many things i still wanna do and find out. maybe i will meet someone. hoping not to be held up by my past.
just keepin on, keepin on.
the beach house music
and it's kind of late at night already. i have a beautiful home.
i love you kiddo, i always will
it's not like that
i will
but you know, we both know that it's time to fly on. and nothing will be lost or forgotten
because i loved you so
and still will
always
so.

it will be okay then

i wasn't going to bed, even though i maybe should have. listening to beach house on myspace and drifting. trying to avoid thoughts that were old and just keepin on, keepin on. it's so hard to defy the temptations. of reminiscing in love that i knew. it's okay, so you just keep on, keep on. there are beautiful people passing by. that girl today, she took me by surprise. so full of life and radiating like a sunbeam in the early summer mornings. asking for my brother. it shook me up. i called him later, crying, telling him how much i love him. i can't even describe. he was embracing my love, just like that. back then. he never doubted it one time. well, hello melancholy. try to be a little more lyrical!

stories of prostitutes on kurfuerstenstrasse. internationally known whore pit. streetwalking ladies, yo, it breaks my heart. behind every story there is a tragedy. rape, neglect, waywardness, sorrow. mothers who beat their kids, looked the other way when their men raped their children. it's breaking my fucking heart. it makes me cry. dad says, well, you can't stop there. you have to figure out how you can grow strong, so you can walk beside them.
i turn my head and i hang my head and cry.
music is the only thing that still can reach that far then.
you give me strength to keep going to keep on to keep on.

i remember sunset blv. the street at night, i was barefeet. i was crying and sobbing on the phone. my mother. bought an international calling card at walgreens. then ran to food4less. they were still open. i just cried. i didn't know what to do. it wasn't the first time that my heart started breaking. but it was the first time that i was so personally affected by it.
aye, how i loved you, my prince, in the shower.
rain is washing away my memories but it's not enough.
i can't bare anything anymore. i am not complaining. i am just saying. i can't bare anything. your chewing, your breathing and drinking tea. the noises drive me crazy. your closeness is drawing me away. your love i can't shelter. i just want to turn the other way and run, run, run into the away.

wings are flashing.
i can't hear you properly
breathing
in and out
in and out
in and out
in and out

it will be okay. if i can only sing
i don't know if i ever have to meet you
again.

there is only salty water in this well.

i cannot write no more
my mind's entangled with love, traces of ghosts all over my soul
linear time system collapsed and i am engulfed in your presence
i know i shouldn't be walking these lines

i look outside the cold, burrowing my hands under the cashmere i wear
i look down my pants and boots and find no sign of familiarity with myself
i look outside the cold and hear them coming and going
music pulsating through the room - not bad - and people smoking
nobody can come close here
i am an island and you are all so distant
he is way closer than you who still live in bodies
he is way more present to me
tears try to find their way through my gorge
i swallow
people die people die, that's life
and people who love each other
desperately
sometimes have to let go

i nod my head and try to flow
try to rid my soul of this knowledge of old
that i had never loved
like that before
and no more.

i've retreated to the fact that i probably need to still go through some of this. so leave my galaxy, seek another one, this is circeling round and round like a song on repeat.
she says he is a wonderful man and you know what, i believe her.
in a way, this is great great news.
it sucks that we had to part but if it was with the result that his greatness that i saw and knew, can truly shine now, what would you want more!?
i love you
in a way

it's a different situation
when a wild child gets tames it's almost
as if you could wound up responsible for her
for the rest of your life
my heart is still yearning
but it is alright
i sit down and live with this lie
i just move on
backwards
with my eyes glued onto the sky
trying to retract some meaning
from meaningless stars

at the river bank of the danube
and the music takes me further.

it was a vacuum
and i am an artist
things are more complicated
when you die
slowly

i can see it in her eyes how much she truly loves him

maybe it makes it all good

and my heart is fluttering and waning

in the nights shared with my guitar and books

floating in a river of reminisce

down down

to where forgetting is

darker times

sometimes I am amused by the fact, that most people who get to know me probably rarely assume or consider that I indeed carry the dark side of the moon inside, like we all do. they know me as an upbeat, stand-up, positive and life-loving person.
maybe it's because i hide away, or try to do so, when i feel down, and often times i don't know who to talk to or to call, when a bout of grief or depression takes a hold of me.
this blog is called the dark side of the moon because i wanted to pay tribute to that fact. not surprisingly, i usually write more, when i feel blue, bruised inside and way heavy and down, as if my soul was weighed down, sinking into this ocean of blue and black, never reaching the ground.

i guess that writing about it, or writing through it does help. it is, as if i was talking to someone who i don't know, who can't console me with awkward words, helpless distractions or smart-ass reasonings. of course, i am lacking the embrace, the arms to hold me, but at least i can swing back and forth about all this on my little rope and maybe find a balance in doing so. it is different from writing a journal at home because of that unknown YOU out there, who by his or her free will can listen to my voice and whom i don't have to do any justice in turn. which is liberating and great and opens the gateways to encounters of a different kind.

i feel so confused, scared and angry, i have backlashes of broken hearted emotions, weird dreams, very intense ones at that, i had lice, i am scared i won't manage to do all i need to do, and i am wondering where i have been going wrong in this past year, whether or not it was a stupid idea to switch universities, i am thinking of what i have lost and gained in the process and most of all, i am trying to cope with the face of death in my life, losing my friend M. and my first love's brother P. who took his own life this summer and many more people who passed in my surroundings.

all this without someone to hold me, but with many amazing friends. just, time seems so awfully short, ticking away and i am breathlessly trying to figure out what i need to do to keep my life sane.


it isn't all that easy for me to admit to my darker emotions. i turn them into anger as a way out, get really mad at people in traffic or unfriendly people on the streets. when i stretched my pelvic muscle girdle when doing acro-yoga, i experienced a huge wave of ANGER and FRUSTRATION and DESPAIR crushing over me, as if I was hiding and holding all these emotions in there. I am so scared and angry and heart broken for God's sake. I didn't take it lightly, when D. and I broke. I didn't take anything that happened lightly and while that may be my problem, I still have to deal with it, right!

aye aye aye. vei vei vei.

stressed out

i am so stressed out, i feel it in my body, creeping through my veins, tensing up my back, pressuring my chest, filling it with tiny hick ups and sadness and sorrow.
the wind blows cold in berlin these days, i hunch my shoulders and scurry along the streets trying to maintain my breath, my peace but more than often can't piece it back together.
almost got into an accident today, cursed a lot and cried a little, smoked half a cigarette and ate half an apple, trying not to think about life and death but it s hard to do when people you love die around you and people you don't know drive like maniacs. i had a very odd dream about penises in an art performance and my lost love, my gone, shhh not to say ex, whom i tried to kiss in that said dream and who was distant and cold and very clear about that it now was him and that girl who are an item. when he left i tried to play it cool but really i wanted to scream, but it was you and me to the end, don't you remember, we were supposed to work it all out and i am thinking of that drive on PCH from Malibu back to Santa Monica when he was so freaked out what I had to think about and later it was him who let me drop into this vast ocean.
i am trying to maintain my pride, keep self pity at a minimum and make this moving on thing easier and more efficient but i guess the fact that one of my best friend's boyfriend just died doesn't make it all that much easier.
so, this is it, in the midst of trying to orient myself in a new university and a new life with many unknown factors, me in a mess, more or less, stressed out to the max and sad like a bucket of blue paint thrown against a black dreary wall.

he could probably tell that i hadn't passed the bridge all the way yet. not properly, anyways, looking back time and again, as if holding on to old songs of past rains and storms that had held my heart hostage. or who reigned it. giving birth to something new that now is meant to be old and yet is lingering within me, throbbing, silently, waiting for another day to come.

i love you i love you i love you, but who you are, i don't know anymore.

she buried her man and tears fell violently and silently as we were singing. sometimes, life is just isn't fair.

he could probably tell that i haven't passed the bridge all the way yet. we were so close during those lovely summer nights and days, spending a week of freedom together, exploring the depths and surfaces, holding on to life.

while he was breathing, breathing, trying not to die.

it is good he isn't pushing it any further, i would crack open like an almost ripened fruit but inside i would still be green, wondering, where the time had went, wondering, why he wasn't him.

winter

i am driving away through the night and the rain is knocking softly on a million doors.
i am walking away from my childhood love, leave the fallen autumn leafs behind, a pattern of red golden harmony, a swirl of memories collecting and making their way into the darkness of the wet ground.
i am walking away from my young love, leaving a trail of tears in the winds, cross the bridges and run from the fires, i face my true love in the wake of sweet mornings and then fall asleep alone.

i knew when i left how far i had already gone. the goodbyes mature, contained, stripped of their inherent magic, his little girl soft breathing beauty, waiting for sleep.
i am leaving and it is good, our summer went by and we had our moments of truth, like dew drop beads on a necklace of green shimmering blades of grass. music fills the air and my own personal stories fade into the night.

somethings just can't be told without wearing their magic out

past winters gather at the floor like puddles of melted emotions, ripe with colors and scents and moments. it was cold, and we got closer, friends came in and left their marks and my heart shrank and got wide and sacrificed.


if i could, i would hold everything back, i would give you everything, i would walk the line perfectly straight and lose myself in your eyes, your pale blue eyes, i wouldn't linger, no, no, i would patiently open my wings and wait for the winds of fate and faith lift me up and carry me to our destinations, i would wear your name on my lips like a sacred secret, i would rip my heart out and plant it in your gardens, if i only knew, if i only knew, who you were and where and if you
wouldn't be intimidated
by the true
me

tiredness washes over me
and music fills the voids
a long lonesome road this lady travels
with so many questions on her mind
and secrets tucked away neatly
in the darker corners of her mind

learning to count her blessings

and love laughter like dreams fading into the fall
it might just be that you keep walking
and walking
all alone

children lift the moments higher
touching clouds
monsters and rabbits
pirate ships and
trying so hard to please
neatly opening the pink mini bag
the pink labello
smeared around her mouth
because she hasn't found her own lips yet
the mother gently caressing her daughters hairdo
you can see how she carefully cleans the little dress with her fingers
so no crums remain
and she looks at me with these big, asking eyes.

a dishwasher in the tea room
as if he knew that i looked at him through the little window
he raises his head
and smiles at me
like the little indian boy on the train
he keeps playing the game
coming back and glancing and smiling
and it s for free

there is a lot of things that can kill a man
there are many ways to die

ray lamontagne sings empty

will i always feel this way?
so empty
so
estranged

she is sinking into the blue
the oblivion
now they are sailing away on different clouds and i am spiraling down into the middle
Oumou Sangaré
the fires have been burning so slow and rendering me speechless
i just wanted to go and fly and fall
but harvest had come and let me go
like a dry leaf
dwindeling down.
they are speaking now of the impossibilities
and the what if´s
and i couldn't agree more.
Singing with my heart
weaving the truths of the deepest possible love
into my air

child of snow

the streets whisper in secrets to me, finally. i felt like dropping down and begging. drinking clear water from a creek in dalmatia. or waking up as a child of snow in some soldier's arms in the times between.
rocking softly back and forth i hear the streets rustling, like leaves in fall. there is a moon over manhattan and my eyelids drop heavily over the cobblestones and histories past. churches are ducking away under big towering buildings that speak of loudness and consume and death to the indians.
it is hardly silent in this church and i hear my tears drop inbetween the rumbles and bumbles of the subway in the subterranean. listening to the inside thoughts stumble over each other and rush one another like the people outside the streets. slowly dwindeling down to some humming and finally a sigh. i get to see everything from a distance. the coat i fell in love with and the dresses, the ridiculous electronics and boots and pumps and everything. it all doesn't matter.
the next day i meet an old man on the street. he is buying something to eat and we smile and start a conversation that ends in his loft on broadway avenue with him playing the piano in ways that make my heart stop and us improvising music that resides inside.
he tells me stories about the origins of the blues and the stories of the many faces in the streets.

you are distant and faint now and we shared a good laugh when he asked me about you. he said, this reminds me of that joke of two jewish ladies meeting in a park. the one asks the other, how are you, and she answers with a heavy sigh. when she is asked in return, she also sighs and the other lady says, hey, i thought we agreed on not speaking of our sons again!

he said i had just such an expression when he asked me about you. i do love the roma though. and everything that reminds me of you. the visions of johanna and greenwich village, indeed.

now there is another man in another country who is not aware of anything or maybe too much. it s good to sleep.

i was a child of snow in his arms and we fell into the skies, upside down, into the skies.

it hurts more because i know i will never see you again
i can be patient with others
but you i will carry
like a stone

soldier

The murmurs of an unspoken language flooded the night and his breathing. Frog like sounds through gnashing teeth and his brother killed in Sarajewo.
The self-service stalls of wooden jewelry all across the country. You pick and pay whatever you like he says and smiles, it is a performance called trust. There is a newspaper article on him, he hands it over in his van and it is all wrinkly and you can tell he has lived with it. Later on he teaches me how to accept and not say thank you, we just are he says, that is enough. Barefoot in the creek just right below the wells. Bending down to gather water in our hollow hands and drink the sweet freshness, sweeter than any water you can find.
I see how his gaze is caressing my body, the hands of a sculptour and he knows, he can tell, when he sees it. Honey dripping off his fingers onto my skin. I writh and breath and try to open the gates of eden but it is grey still around me and silent. His hand stroking the side of my face. He holds my cheek, saying softly you need love. you don't need sex, you need love. His voice almost surprised and his embrace caring. Later he will still say goodbye to me like to a woman, recognizing in me what I haven't quite processed yet. The coffee and water and his gifts to me, so many. My songs pervade the night and pierce the silence between his few words. He was a soldier. He was a soldier. He was there.
And with his hands he can make the most beautiful creations of wood, letting it tell its story through his hands.
And his hands have ended someone else's story one day.
And his dreams are grinding and gnashing his teeth and he finds free parking every day because he was a soldier then.
The eyes of a sculptour, the heart of gold, soft like a big bear and the wisdom beyond compare. Simple he says, and points toward the now. You are my girl, in this now.

i can't describe any of this. she must love him very much and i go my ways.
the sun set over the city in a haze while the sound of the dalmatian coast lulled me to sleep.

shaken

something has happened
my heart is pierced by this pain
you have grown weary of hearing it
but your lips and your soul
looking straight through your eyes
your fighting for a life above
the ground
and in my dream i know
that you knew that all i could do was respect
but never stop loving you

i never do.

loss

she calls him with the same name as i did now.
and she is staking out her claims on a man i so loved
melancholy deep blues is fueling my night
so i go and pack up my eyes
and i run towards
the sunset
i had a friend who now is lost.
she followed her way like swallows finding their way back down to africa
she never stopped and we went our own ways
i miss her so

and i feel the urge to make it look all so pretty. to say, that it was meant that way. to say, that it's truly okay.
because, it is.
but sometimes
it just isn't.
some things just really suck the way they are.

and you could call it greed
or not letting go
or you could also call it care
because as it turns out
i really do give a fuck

sometimes

not so easy

things just haven't been gotten all that much better recently.
the weather reflects my mood: too hot and too humid, cloudy; a thunderstorm brewing at the horizons.
I am no where close to perfection in the things I love to do, I am about to lose a job that I grew to like, the economy crisis is now becoming a more tangible phenomena for me.
I just want a break for a change. I can't stand this anymore.

item

they look so good together.
and i still love his face.
know it so well.
and they look so good together.
i remember, when we were walking down the boulevard, and it was so obvious
perfect fit
people would stop and go out of their way to let us know
how beautiful we were
what a present that was
and now
little wing
fly on...

i am so sad, that my heart is breaking. the beauty of her dancing blew my mind, the rhythms swept me away in a swirl of life, breathing and exuberant joy. when i came down from those heights, slowly so, i felt for my phone and called Lilja, to see how they were doing. her man is in the hospital yet again and now needs full care, 24/7. they accepted him in the hospital only under the condition someone came to take care of him because they don't have enough staff. just imagine, what if you had no one?
and then, in a week or so, he will be staying at a hospiz.
my heart is breaking, it is crying into the skies.
how can something like this happen?
i know, i know it. and yet, it hurts beyond words when you know this person. this beautiful soul.
and so it goes. the gypsy cante taking care of the unspeakable, the realm without words.

but you are gone

listening to: Lhasa de Sela, Love Came Here.

The summer is soft outside, the leafs whispering.
love came here and never left
There is no end to this story
No final tragedy or glory
Love came here and never left

Now that my heart is open
It can't be closed or broken
Love came here and never left

Now I�ll have to live with loving you forever
Although our days of living life together
Of living life together are over

There's nothing here to throw away
I came to you in light of day
And love came here and never left.
Your gaze has settled upon a different horizon. I feel the void.
Sometimes a good friend will come by. Knock at my door. And ask about it.
And that's when I realize
Lhasa de Sela, tells it all

You told me that you'd stay with me
And shelter me forever
That was a hard promise to keep
I can't blame you for the bad weather

After all that has been said and done
I won't ask you where you're going
Don't keep in touch, I don't miss you much
Except sometimes early in the morning

Now use your silver tongue once more
There's one thing that I�d like to know
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

I forgive you wanting to be free
I realize you long to wander
And I sympathize with your roving eyes
I just can't forgive your bad manners

Now use your silver tongue once more
There's one thing that I�d like to know
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?
Did you ever believe the lies that you told?
Did you earn the fool's gold that you gave me?

it s hard to say anything. my heart is aching in the infinte and skies are losing their meaning every day a little more. swallows are flying and i feel how i am falling upwards into the clouds.
i love you
i love you
i love you

you took my man and made him
first i thought, uh, oh, just a hairdresser
but you are successful in what you do
and full of love and light and laughter
when it comes to him
so i go ahead and kick my time
lamenting the depths of this ocean
the depths of this unknown.

sick

i feel so sick to my stomach. my heart is physically hurting and all the embarrassment i invited into my life by making myself vulnerable and pathetic is creeping in cold.
yes man. i have failed. many times actually.
and yet, it is not enough.
i will go back and torture myself with pictures i don't need to see.
with connections i should have cut off.

it is the tragedy of his fall that took my breath. i am whincing and whining at night, crying my eyes out until there is nothing left. i haven't cried like that really, since summer of 2006. the whole family, just thinking of it makes me cringe.
under this aspect i should be and am to some extend glad, that d. has n. now and seems glad. with a proper apartment, to which his parents can come visit, with all the works and no sun glasses at night no more.

our story seems so long gone and faded. lets hope, that i will never ever ever ever have to cry for him or about him the way i have cried now.

taking one's life is such a hard thing to do. in every way. hard for the remaining. so hard for the remaining. hard for the soul.

i wish i could have said anything. something. but there is no words, they fail me and i am at a loss to understand what is going on inside and outside of me.

amen.

my heart is hurting.

childlike i let myself fall, getting up again, and fall.
the magic might have whithered in the mean time, maybe you are gone.
i trust in life and get up again, yet again.
i see the moon blossoming
into the dark skies.

horn and hoof

he said i seemed overly horny and i should learn how to hide that if i wanted to be more successful with my guys.
it really dumbfunded me completely. something that i experienced as pure joy of life and moving around, being not so grown up for once and childishly playing in swings and running around came across as needy and desperate.
funny.

withdrawal

as soon as i got what i possibly wanted
i withdrew
scared to pieces

reality
i
fear

you come to me

you come to me in the dark, emerging from the velvet blue in your white shirt that i want to unbutton, your russian soul, your stomping heart.
i can see you and i know you see me. we are two lost souls in a fishbowl, waiting for more. the light is serene and fluorescent, flickering in your eyes. my boss spins the tables with good old music, and we can dance, boy can we dance, they recognize.
the air is soft now and it's daytime. my eyes get lost in focus, gazing into the green, the white, the brickstone red.
you said, jump, if that's what you really want to do, you should always do what you want to do. i jumped and swam, drifted in the current of the quiet, while you went home to sleep finally. because that's what you wanted. before, though, you squeezed my hand upon saying goodbye, i know that we could have kissed and i know why we both didn't try. we know too much. too much of the longing, the magic, that doesn't lessen the heart's pain. you let me play, like a kitten, responding in unexpected ways. boy, you knew how to move.
now you are gone, like a song and the breeze is cooling my face.
you come to me and let me dance through all the pain. you let me dance, leading me and then letting me go. and i embarked on a journey, remembering oh so vividly his face, his voice, his embrace. his love on my soul. in my body, in my soul, oh, swinging freely back and forth about him, with his curly dark hair and eyes, glowing in my heart. your gaze held my breath while i tumbled and fell into the dark, sitting stoicly in the back, watching, sleepily, how i was taken aback by the rhythm and storm.
i know who we were. two lost souls in a fishbowl. two warriors with broken hearts keeping on, keeping on.
let me caress your self and comfort you.
travelling man, stay a while, until the night is over.
i m just a station on your way
i know
i am not
your
lover

shame

in the darkness i weave threads into the fabric that nobody's supposed to see
i imagine you in all your glory of illusion, i imagine the bad and the wild and the ugly. another bed, the same room. the same voice, another body. another soul.

sometimes it's hard to come to terms with reality. with who I seem to be. with who I let myself become. who I am carving out to be. I wonder, how much respect I should pay to these phantasies. I wonder of how much a place for my own I have to look for in this world of forces that seem so unspoken of in my daily life.

I wonder if you could be or actually are someone. and then I think of my happily-ever-after married life that I am also dreaming of, and I can't decide if there is an unknown x-factor that will enter my life and merge it all together.

I am so lost for you.

change

i have changed my life and a serene and strange kind of calm came over me.
sadness now fills the gaping wound that the movie '9to5 days in porn' has ripped open all over again. driving home on my bike alongside the river under the trees and the stars helped to get two or three tears flowing, more wasn't in store for me tonight.
i am bottled up and i have been bottled up about many of my experiences in Los Angeles. There just hasn't been a proper way to reflect and express what I have lived through, seen and witnessed in those three years.
In London still, I was starting from a very healthy surrounding actually, good friends, good family and healthy healthy energy.
it got weird the moment i put my feet on the ground in New York and I started taking a look around, just as Joni Mitchell put it so beautifully in her song 'blue'

'everybody's saying, that hell's the hippest way to go, well I don't think so, but I'm gonna take a look around though'

there is a bottomless emptiness and aimlessness portrayed in many of those people who took part in 9to5 days in porn (a documentary) that i have witnessed in many people i met in LA. it is heartwrenching and despairing. i've seen bottomless pits, abysses of human nature that i will sound pathetic and two dimensional if i try to put it down in words. i have always been fascinated with remittance girl and hermes, both of whom manage to write about two topics that are very close to what is on my mind right now. remittance girl writes about sex in it's many aspects and possibilities or perversions if you will in such a way, that it almost creates a fourth dimension, a very humane and understanding portray of psychological dynamics, soul movements, if you will, behind these aspects. porn can't do that for me. it cancels out what in turn you will see in the eyes of the involved.
hermes speaks about the dark side of the moon in a way, that the glow of souls and the beauty in the darkest places glimmers and rises like a phoenix from the ashes.

i am so tired now.
i want to escape, into a place where there are no countries nor men.

crazy crazy life

my friend from youthful days has been diagnosed with cancer and has been undergoing his first chemotherapy just recently.
my good friend's boyfriend has been going through that since almost two years already, brain tumor.
and my special friend H. just called me, telling me that he found out his bullshit dad who abused him and tried to prevent him from being adopted by his fosterfamily isn't really his dad. he found old loveletters between his mom who committed suicide when he was four, and another man. she apparently had an affair until nine months prior to his birth. now he is trying to find out who his real dad is.
what a burden just has been lifted off his shoulders, you probably won't be able to understand. not to have to carry the genetical heritage of this truly sick man is such a relief. nevermind trying to forgive your own father for all the horrible things he has done onto you.
what a burden has just been materialized in form of cancer in my other friend's life i and nobody who hasn't been going through this, probably won't understand.
it is so sad, that it presses my heart into a clump in my stomach.
like a stone
like a stone
so heavy and hard.

truck ran over me

i am waking up and i feel like a truck ran over me. eventually i peel myself off the blankets, not before serenading B with a couple of hoarsely sung morning songs to motivate. the motivation bit doesn't really work. she warms up coffee from yesterday and i try and be healthy half heartedly with a cup of hot water with lemon juice squeezed into it.
i steal some cream cheese from V for a breadroll that is lying around in the kitchen and make a bowl of cereals that i mix with hot soja milk. super disgusting.
i slouch down to the mail box to get "Die Zeit", B's newspaper which comes every thursday to read my favorite columnist's hilarious column. it ain't that funny today and my head is aching. my limbs are seriously twice as heavy as usual. i try on two dresses, same cut, different colors. decide for the lilac one after a facebook conversation with a guy whom i met via the hospitality club ages ago, from Bulgaria, and whom I haven't met ever since. life is weird.
today is a stay in bed day, most definitely. it is gray and gloomy outside.
nonetheless, i finally get out, return twice to the apartment, once to change into boots, the second time to get my phone that i forgot, the third time i ring the doorbell and have B throw me her woollen jacket down because it is freezing.
where has the summer gone!?
i should bring the keyboard to the office, i stole it, because the keypad of my laptop is broken. it s late though and i decide to go to university straight away, i have been late for this seminar all along and want to get there in time, for once.
it is truly horrific. the subway is crowded, i need way more personal space these days, i am fucking pms-ing and that's nothing to be taken lightly, i promise.
so i try to sleep and ignore the annoying conversations and 15 year old girls and all.
once i am at university i witness a dude falling with his scooter on the street, getting up and pretending as if nothing had happened. probably under shock. reminds me of the black cat that jumped off the fourth floor yesterday, across the street. B and I had a romantic little moment in the wintergarden, enjoying MJ (since I became a fan now too) and some wine. the cat fell flat on his side and lay there as if dead. two guys and we were just super shocked, then the cat starting twitching. i yelled into the night 'hey, fourth floor, get out to the balcony!' the girls living there heard me, ran out and down the stairs. the cat jumped up, when they opened the door and RAN away, but so fast, you wouldn't believe it!
so i get to university and realize, that the very seminar i am always late for is not happening today.

geez. confused people are late usually, and when they are not, they most probably have missed an announcement saying that they don't have to come at all.

such is life. i should stop writing now and start studying for my statistics class.
lordy lordy

good lord

good lord, this is painful, just to support all those lousy falshbacks i've been having i had to go back to that page, to check if i could see something that proves his existence. indeed, there it is, a picture of *them*, somewhere, probably during a hike, or chilling at a place, holding each other's hands intertwined above their heads, stretching their backs out or so it seems.
she: in a pretty SHORT red red red dress. he: in the jeans i bought him and his brown shirt.
gosh, she is so beautiful, from afar, at least, and tiny, she is doing sth with him, that he would have flat out refused to do when we were together, so i suppose she has an amazing and great influence on him.
it hurts, of course.
that it's not me, who can enjoy this, but oh well.
all that i have left is to revel in the fact, that i have loved
and re-agonize the pain of having lost.
such is life,
i guess.

Rock

I met a Man
His name, Rock in the Sea
Living it, as can be.

The inspiration and energy I felt when talking to A. made a sun rise inside, I walked through the city as if to shine.
Everybody knew, everybody would see, I was love as can be.

Something similar just happened again to me. This Man I met today for the second time is probably more than twice as old than me but I know we both fell in love, crushing into the sea.
A flight of an eagle above the clouds, in the sun, souls stay young.
His eyes told me everything I needed to know, our hearts were resonating and whispering like the wind when she caresses the trees or the desert sand. Light and deep in the same time, we couldn't stop dancing, like the tide, entering and retreating from each other's private space.
I feel like struck by lightning, almost ceasing to be, this how it feels when two souls meet, intensely, but free.
You can love someone across ages, race or gender, you can love just the essence of someone, if you surrender
to the beauty
to the beauty
to the beauty

I feel my heart go boom boom boom,
Rocking hard
against my chest
.

Michael Jackson: tragedy of human condition

i am immersed in researching Michael Jackson as an artist, but also, human being, I am distraught many times and astonised at others.
I don't know, what to think of it. Whether or not take myself seriously, how to label my newfound interest in an artist whom I had thought always of some sort of freak and cheap pop star. it's quite starteling, to realize that i lived with a completely cheap and unreflected opinion on someone I didn't know as an artist nor person. The only song that I registered was the Earth Song, and maybe We are the World, obviously, since I am half German and the Earth Song was forever on the top of our charts because we are sentimental environmentalists and separate garbage since ages, before the rest of the world even learned about those issues. not that I am convinced separating garbage is the ultimate solution to the problem, oh no.
But this one exceeds so many levels. I am literally finding myself bawling watching MJ videos, watching interviews, music videos and reading anything seemingly valid that I can find to help me put this together.
I should be preparing for my history exam, instead I am contemplating Michael Jackson until 3 am. No kidding. The thing is, I feel puzzled by what all this means, on a more abstract level.
What does it say about us, about our culture, society, what does it say about the human condition, about art, about life in general. Who was this man!? Or, rather, this being?
What kind of thoughts could be spun to an end, where press stopped pressing?
What if we thought his comments to the child abuse allegations to the end...
What if we assumed he wasn't merely a freak, a psychopath, but that he maybe could have had a point when saying, that the whole world should be like this...i.e. people tucking kids in (even in their own beds, how sexual a thought!?), giving them hot milk and cookies. sure, don't forget to brush teeth. but what if we managed to really see this as not sexual? what if he wasn't sexual with them.
how horrible a thought, that this man, who had never had a life outside the stage, who loved his fans so much and already said at a young age, how he imagined them having a good time in the audience, cross-race and professions, as i heard in one of the interviews, that this man who relied so much on the energy interaction and love and appreciation extended by his fans to him and vice versa, would be accused of child molestation, and just imagine, he wasn't guilty. just imagine, he really just loved them. I guess we could call that pedo-phil as well, in the meaning of, someone who loves kids excessively.
is that healthy?
maybe not. maybe people should have the chance to grow up and be adults. but wait, what if michael jackson would have been just some dude in the Gary Indiana ghetto and never get known. How much would that have changed??? How much of who he was, tells me about his essence?

I have that feeling, that he truly was someone else. One of a kind. Encapturing the tragedy of human condition, or even, of deity. The stuff, that greek tragedies and myths are about. The complete and utter tragedy of being half god half human.

anna's song by marvin gaye

you take me on a ride
to a world
that i left behind
it makes me ache
a little
and why is his voice in my head saying sweet nothings?
i wonder if he's thinking about me, maybe right then? or maybe he doesn't.
it was more than just what it seemed in the end.

mazzy star 2

i think i am ready to paint another layer on your song

>fade into you
strange you never knew<

glad, with what i've got i stumble into your darkness. when i close my eyes and step to the window, i can hear the ocean mumble, but there is only city.
the universes that opened up to me, i will never be able to show them to you, to anyone, to whom, i wonder.
it is the utterly subjective and lonely experience of each human becoming in their darkest moments that defines who we are.
the reflections and detections in human encounters, they weave a tapestry of shimmering illusions into our strand of beauty.
but, music, it can venture into the unknown and unsaid and impossible.

time bends under your voice, flections that echo my feelings that originated in your shoe.
every step you took and every breath, - light like a bird i disappear, with nothing but a few reminisce worthy details in my bag.
there is a new morning dawning upon my soul. i hear the birds and feel the fluttering of times wings, riding the dark waves of a night that left us behind.
new faces appear and fade away, again.
there is music, that ebbs in and out, the day we bought our pots and pans.
the love that materialized in little things such as cough medicine or deoderant.
ah, how i loved you.
all the unsaid, i even loved more.
i think you are and were one of the only people i have met, who could let days and weeks pass without saying anything significant without tiring my interest or curiosity or care. it could of went on and on and on and on just like this song.

this will always be with me, i promise, i know, but it is hard to write these words even, since i am already flown so far and so away.

this is a new goodbye, a new hello, to what lies ahead.
maybe i can show him my heart

aaaaaaah

ah, god, what should i do with this energy!!!!!!
i have a huge crush, oh, uh, oh man!
that s why it s called crush because it f§$% crushes you!!!!!!!!
man !
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

yearn

it is night now and work is calling, bob dylan crooning.
i see my reflection
but more so i feel it
reverberating
from within your soul

argh

gosh. there i sit. man. argh.

i m not tired but i ve only slept 3 hours. and what now!>? geez.
wanna dance but i know it d be a bad idea.
who to follow!? the angel or the little devil right there on my left shoulder!?
f§$%&%
stupid pride that forbids me to call.
stupid thirst that makes me want to.

i just talked about that myself. how for some people that kind of encounter is so rare, that it means way more to them than to me, and now i find myself in the flucking same exact position. no straight thinking. just dumb chasing the fleeting dreams and clouds.
argh.

indeed

it is indeed really weird, to actually see it.
a piece of future cut out and catapulted back into the past.
into a dim camper, cold, and your hands on my leaving burning traces.
i turned away
all the bodies you had touched before and the ones you d touch thereafter crept into my mind and muffled my spirit.
it s just you and me now
now
you said
and
true
you were so right

you were the first person i ve ever met
with whom it was practically impossible to envision your future wife or girlfriend
i was not interested in the slightest to ever meet her
nor could i imagine this ever to end

strange how i can look at her face now
and be
okay

him again.

I will talk more about you K.
I will talk more about how paths crossed and spirals elevated life ceaselessly.
How you led me out, leaving Deep into a crispy clear snowy Berlin morning, lifetimes ago, it seems, 2005. The birds were singing, our ears were still tingeling from a long night of electronic waves crashing on board. You held my hand, lightly, the virginity of the streets as we walked down to were I lived. The brunch and the moments of no talk. Your philosophy and take on life. How you breathed the fresh air and how I knew, that I'd be alright, alright without him. That me too, I was to venture into a land full of surprise.
A light kiss only at the metro station. Light footed you disappeared. Little did I know, if ever, or at all, we'd meet any other way. But the spiral took me longer and higher, and I would have never even written fiction about you.

I will write more about Los Angeles' dirty streets later... The insanely expensive keyboard my sister bought and on which Stevie Wonder had played before.
This is all gone right now, but I feel it, all the same, beneath my skin. And I felt it with you. I know you have seen the change. And I appreciate you for that. I do.

Your hands left me in a maze. Amazed. Trying to find my way out through all the new ways and paths that they opened up to me. All the possibilities of which only very few will come to fruition.
But knowing you is such a possibility in itself already.
Punctually you have appeared in my life, quietly opening doors for me, without even knowing it. By just being you and enjoying it.
And even though you don't open up and keep the walls tight with the same smile with which I protect mine I have seen the glance in your eyes and your words that were full of wonder and surprise.
You know that I have the power to push.
And I know that you have the power to inspire.
You know that I can be, after all, very critical of art. And you know that I support you effortlessly.

There you are, boy, in the shades of the morning dawning upon our battlefield of love.
The intertwined blankets and my hair all tangled.
Your arms holding me, all of me, caressing the landscapes and honoring every cell.
Exploding the well.

sam cooke

where do they end
the smoke rings i send
....


i know you knew it.
otherwise you'd never been acting so defensively.
so it's okay i guess
we do things that are irrational
throughout our lives.

everybody around us knew too
they knew
and didn't understand why
you didn't
nobody did
why in the world i stayed
for so long

so who am i to blame anyone!?
i have to look at myself again
and ask myself, why, why
don't you do something that is good for you!?
why don't you
why don't you
why don't you
do
something that is good
for you.
.

1st of June it is

So - the big question: what could be!?
can i be straight and do what i said i would?

he called me his angel
and the answer to his prayers
and while many girls i know would have rolled their eyes at that
i knew it was true
because for me too
there was
magic
and we danced.

i missed the moment of departure
i stayed for a little too long
my elusive fairiness turned into songs
and he said, you love to sing, don't you
and i said
yes

i felt guilt all of the sudden
i felt sorry for him
i felt sorry i couldn't be
the answer to his prayers
nor his angel
but only love
would be
in a fleeting moment

thief in the sky

Carina Round
thief in the sky
and how i see it

she set everything to private
maybe
finally
and i wanted to disappear
melt into the floor of virtual reality
when i realized that she now
could watch me come
and go

like a tide
ebbing
in
and
out

my heart grows heavy every second
i see their faces
and curly hair
so young
playing music in the subway halls
with fervor and passion
so
so
so
young

she took all the place now
filled it with
demands and
i guess they call it
love
he is trying
it counts
maybe it's right
but she is not the
only
one

oh he's gone now
baby baby gone

i guess i really need a new man in my life. it sucks to fall back onto that. feel that love surge. it can't happen to me now.
see, i moved on already. it's not supposed to be that way.
don't mean so much
to me
dammit

mixed up

I can't stop thinking about you. Who I perceive you are, but like a scheme only, far away. Shadows upon my hills. And then there is your way of laughing and taking me into your big arms, all of you, it's so wide and strong and I feel safe.
I can't stop thinking about you and that really upsets me. How could I develop such feelings for a stranger, that you are, after all. Friendship runs deep, but anything else has never blossomed. I feel that it always had been just too early for anything more than just that sort of a friendship.

Then I wonder, if you are too intellectual. Why you don't play an instrument. If you are too serious. If you could ever understand my love and appreciation and my being drawn at times to the dive bars, to the dirt streets, the jazz bars and the way of blues.

But then I remember your laughter. And it makes me warm inside.

he wondered forever
what could have become of him and his music
what if he had tried harder
what if he hadn't fallen into the void
we met ten years later and were likewise fascinated
I was taken by the fact that my hero from long gone days was so tangible and real all of the sudden
He was taken by the fact that this woman that I had become once had had a crush on him, personally as well as musically
We met at the opposite ends and did not realize the distance inbetween
at night he touched my hips almost as if acidentally and he showed me the songs he had recorded, sometimes he also would listen
his mannerisms and little quirks were 33 years old and his stories never new
almost embarrassed for his insecurities I tried to get away from him
his car got towed because of me and he came back in december
my life exploded and I started to show him my cold shoulder for lack of courage to tell him the truth

that I really really just couldn't stand his mask and his searching

old fashioned dream

Lost in some old fashioned dream
holding together the past and me
where I stand is dark and I try to let go
who I was before
...
returning to the scene
returning to the ways that had carved themselves into my soul
she was upset, naturally, marking her territory like fundamental settlers in the Jordan land. I just knew that my heart was pounding like an iron fist from inside against my ribcage trying to make its way into the streets and bleed again.

it is, that I really felt so insanly much love.
it is, that I really have loved you so much.
it is, that you asking about me still means too much to me.
it was, that I was lost in some old fashioned dream.

deep melancholy engulfs my soul like giant wings of the queen of dark embracing my heart...
i dive deep down into the abyss of my own nightmares, my melancholy, my sad.
i let myself sink without regarding the multitude of pain and suffering that surrounds me every day.
only for now let me be smaller than small and petty.
let me be in a nutshell and cry a river, that will join the deep of the oceans one day.
where the music plays at the bottom of the sea.
with a whispering
with a whispering
with a whispering
of sounds.

dark

Oh gosh how I miss you and your dark words, always at the edge and up to date what was happening in the most obscurest trends of music....
Oh gosh how I miss you. And I can't call you or talk to you or write you or find out about you. Because we have gone past that point. We talked on the phone and agreed that it would be best to dive away. Into the vast ocean of oblivion, following each our own paths, winding into obscurity...
Gosh. How I miss how you loved me. How you looked at me. How you stood in this world, broken yet so strong and courageous. Hiding, at times, then rising up again.
I loved you so.
I loved you so.

Tonight I am sitting on the boardwalk somewhere in Berlin. Pieces of music waft through the air....I fall asleep...ebb in and out. Completely exhausted from work. So tired. And I don't know, where I am headed, and I don't know, where to go.
I miss the moments of silence in which we both just knew.

intrinsicately
i wave threads through a golden loom
i have no qualms about all those moments that fell off my shoulders like a neglige
you hesitate because yet again you were smarter than I
because my longings tear me apart and blind me like the fresh morning sun
so i run through the nights
it is still dark most of the time
and i hear the flaming sounds emerging from his lips into the starlit night sky.
i smell the blossoming
i feel the spring
my chest is floating
limbo
i am lingering in the middle fields of sorrow
playing my cards as best i can
as time drops off my hips like
dew escapes your eyes
early one morning....

just as the sun was rising.

what new chapter, please!`?

melancholy washes over me. good ol' friend, you.
blue!
so i listen to the band. and i try to amuse myself. eat a cookie or ten. and pity myself.
this is nothing compared to the depths of ocean wide blueness i have witnessed before.
but you just took the light from my eyes. took away the light summer breeze, that was refreshing my heart. now we put all the cards on the table but we also can t play no more. i might have had some good cards to deal up my sleeve but no, you wanted it all clear and right.
well, there, you can have em.

i m tired. my eyes hurt. i think i gotta go back to work now.

the bright side of the moon

Folks, it is summer time in Berlin. I start to appreciate the glory inherent to stark seasonal differences. As hard as it was to drag myself through the wintertime and the last soul-wrenching gray days in the city, I enjoy the sun, the mild fresh wind and my naturally exploding enthusiasm about all that, enormously.

I remembered today, that he lit an incense as i was lying on his bed trying to recover from a stomach ache that I assume was due to my being so nervous to actually do the language tandem with him. He asked me, if I was okay with incenses as he brought me tea to the bed, putting up pillows for me to be more comfortable. Then he showed me pictures of his family and offered me strawberries.

Life couldn't be any better... They say anticipation of happiness or death is respectively the best or the worst feeling, but I really don't care about anything like that. Who cares, if it won't evolve into something I secretly hope for! I sure as hell will enjoy this spring of my life.

Aloha!

dawn

it's dawning
birds are singing
breathing this fresh air foreboding spring time is like drinking a very refreshing lemonwater.
I listen to www.myspace.com/thecurseovdialect "broken feathers" and reminisce of the now in which I am.
She wrote me again. She answered my mail gently and fully of bloom. Forgiving maybe just as I am trying to walk the road of redemption.

She took from me violently and without concern. She tried to apologize, ready to take on the karmic consequences.
But I couldn't accept her in his life. Up to now. Now, that I see how she held out. How she cleaned up and was hurt and was going to leave him if he didn't change around.
Her birthday is two days before mine. She wrote back, something that not many girls would do. She reached out, just as I always dreamed in my hidden hopes of healing. She is with the man I loved.

I think it is and will be good.

God bless you with love and growth.

Let's let sun shine on it and time pass.
Maybe one day we can share our life experiences again. For now - till then.

k.d. lang and LA

I only now discovered k.d. Lang, by watching the dance performance Mazurka Fogo by Pina Bausch which Pedro Almodovar, on the other hand, used for his movie "Habla con Ella".
Wow. What a chain of incredible artists in their own right.

K.d. Lang said something about living in LA in one of the interviews I watched.
I totally agree. You are at the beach, the mountains, the desert in no time. You can keep it private if need, there are lots of trees, depending on where you live. LA is an amazing city, really.
Good for us, that not everybody gets that.

warrior of light or: to abdict, to abstain from, to do without

Sometimes I get so caught up with daily life, emotions, burdens... and forget, what I truly want.
What it really is I am about. Just because I am curious about the dark side of the moon doesn't mean I have to go there all the way. This is a world which is tumbling alongside the edge of a deep abyss of fear and insanity. Since I am a little child I know that I am on the other side. It might sound pathetic but I really feel I want to become a warrior of light. And there are wonderful people in my life, who remind me of that. In my personal relationships I tend to gravitate towards guys who have seen the other side. The dark side of the moon. Who went there halfways or all the way. Naturally they are attracted to me too. As my dad says, dark and light attract each other to form the middle, to create colors.
I am interested in healing. In growing. In creating. I know that destruction is part of it. I know that destruction and growth have to be balanced.

But for myself, I truly want to find the middle within myself. I want to learn and excercise. I want to learn how to abdict, to abstain from, to do without. Get stronger by doing so. Start little. With sugar. Wine. Never ask of other people to do something you haven't done yourself. I will never be able to reach out the hand to someone or take a hand from someone who is reaching out to heal, if I haven't battled my own addictions yet.

And yes, I am intrigued by the life of colors and richness, the abundance. But, and this I have to say, I sympathize way stronger with figures like Gandhi. It's so easy to forget. To be comfortable in our own petty lives. Make it comfortable. Find excuses and be alright. There is nothing wrong with that. Or IS THERE!?

I am thinking of my sister's friend Alina. She is a follower of this blog. She has an amazing photo-blog, check it out.
She is someone I know, who is BURNING on both sides, because she just can't sleep. Knowing of the injustice and wound and crisis in Palestina.

I have shielded myself from many things in the past because I burnt my candle on both ends at a very young age. I suffered physically from environmental destruction and social injustice. Children being recruited to be soldiers. People "disappearing" in Argentina and many other countries.
It took a toll on my heart and it does sound pathetic but I suffered.
And I have shielded myself for a long time now. I had to, or so I thought. I came up with great explanations as to why. I had to, naturally, since I have to look into the mirror every day.
I guess, maybe, one reason was, to be able to invest in myself without dissolving into the insanity of these problems and tragedies.

But again and again I feel the time approaching in which I have to step out again.

From this shelter
this nest
and not fear

the dark side of the moon

what i am missing is: self discipline. i learned to listen to my body so well, that sometimes i let him dictate my doings. that's real bad news to me. I realized that early today in the morning and there needs something to be done about it. I realize I have a similar lack of discipline emotionally. I so have to learn how to hold back and not just react upon my extreme emotions. There needs to be some kind of rule. Like no calling or writing before at least one day has passed after the outbreak of an emotional volcano in my soul. or such as, I can only do something after I wrote a song or painted a picture or wrote a poem about it. At least that will keep my creativity going.
I am so tired of being in-efficient and slow.

Slow is good, but only if it is your real pace and not some freaking physically dictated illusion.

On a different note: I would like to go to Cuba. I would like to be in love like I was with the pirate prince. Okay, okay, I admit, today I did feel like I wanted to be with him even. But gee. That's the whole point of the post, right, that I want to learn how to regulate these kinds of feelings.

So....later alligators!

Emeralda needs to become Piranha again for a while

i tried

maybe not hard enough, but look i tried.
i grew. i learned. from all this.
i learned to appreciate the qualities of the exex that i couldnt fall for. it seems lifetimes ago. way back, first round berlin.
now, see, i finally was able to feel a crush again. it was tingely and beautiful. a great guy. the kind of guy that knows how to dance, smile, cook, who worked the first year berlin from 9 to 6 and studied german at night til 9 PM.
that s the kind of guy i want to go for!
but there is this other person. popped up in my life. great conversation, great energy.
and i couldnt stop laughing yesterday when i chatted with him and found out mor about him.
yet, it made me angry, a little bit. or annoyed.
because: this is the kind of guy I am trying not to get involved with anymore.

how come those guys are drawn to me? what is it in me, that attracts them?
the ones who have lived or still live at the dark side of the moon.....

dying

What makes one death worse than the other?
What makes one death more lamentable than others?

People die everyday. It's more unlikely than not to die of illness, accidents, stupidity and fatal circumstances instead of a peaceful death of the kind that you fall asleep when you are old and just never wake up again.

It is hard to say good bye. We cling onto that life. Religions have emerged from that dilemma. From the fear and from the hope for a surviving soul.

We see how frail physical life is and dream of more.
But souls die too. Sometimes more.
Calling their bodies to follow them down into the canyons of dark.

We cry upon the arriving caskets. More soldiers dead. But they signed up for it. More so than my friend who just got cancer one day and now looks like he is a dead man walking. That makes me cry. Naturally, because he is my friend. But maybe, he signed up for that too. Who knows? Who knows.
If my friend came back from combat, wrapped into a flag, I would lose my mind over it. I would lament and maybe I would become pacifist. Right now I rather would like to become a scientist and find the cure for brain tumors that keep growing.

Sometimes I feel like we are ants. Every one has a life and the right to it.
But if you don't die of war, murder, illness or accidents you still might lose your kid to drugs and violence.
Maybe you will lose yourself to drugs. Even if there is no war.
The death would still be just as horrible.
Some people die before they were born. Abortions. Miscarriages. People fight over lives. Who will inflict a burden on who.
Some people do get born, onto a trash hill and all they will ever know is their ghetto. Some others get born and discover they never really wanted to and they jump and kill themselves. Some others take people who do want to live with them.

This is a crazy world.

This is a crazy ant hill.

And sometimes I just don't know what to do.

mazzy star

There was this feeling of belonging together. The smell of tar in front of 7/11 on Santa Monica Blvd.
Our reflection bore the sign of melting into each other, four AM and the long and winding road and a heart of gold.
We were friends in crime, shopping for O-juice and sprite with only a blanket wrapped around my naked body, rocking the camper and the rich suburbian gardens, making love in the car, your fingers drawing patters on my soul.
I miss making love to you. I miss that sense of belonging. Of rocking the world together. How different that was from picking you up from Mel’s after all your other friends had left and you told me I was the only true friend you ever had as we walked up Highland from Hollywood Blvd.
It makes me cry, naturally.
Still. I think it’s strange you never knew.
I think it’s strange you never knew.

And I can’t write this to you. I can’t burden you down with this truth. With this sentimental piece of shit. This chain. That would tie your soul down just as it ties mine down, sometimes. Anchoring me to the ground. The wells of pain. Of knots in the throat. Of wild and raging hope. To rediscover. Recover. Recover the lost. The dead. The ghosts.
The moments. Retrieve the moments. Of lust. Of love. Of partnership and walking. Together. To the rhythm of our own drum.

It’s hard to breathe sometimes. The last moment of love. Flickering in the dark. It was Tony’s birthday. We were at Santa Monica beach with my family and you looked in my eyes and I felt the burn creep up my skin. I knew you felt it too. It was a deep split second that passed. We could have left them but we didn’t. You took my face into your hands but you wouldn’t come with me to the water.

I can’t call you.
Weigh you down with my voice. My longing. My loss. My love.

the hunter

So you like to be turned down she says.
I laugh, hysterically maybe, hum and haw...
Well.

I like the not so obvious. If I was breathtakingly beautiful I would enjoy looking at myself in the morning. Just pure joy of estetics. But I would probably never go for all those guys who are so obviously losing their shit over my appearance. I would go for the guys who could have anyone but truly learned to care for what is behind the facade. It would be a matter of personal survival to me.
I am not that mind blowingly pretty though. I have a different handicap: I have many talents. I am very personable. I have a lot of energy. I impress people more often than not with my skills and experiences.

This sounds so horrible just writing it out. I feel this burning disgust pressuring my chest just reading it. Hopeful to re-read this later and say, oh my gosh, I was so full of shit.
But oh well, I have reasons to say that and even though, luckily, I don't leave an impression in certain scenes and circles, it happens a lot.
I dislike people...no, I don't dislike them for that, but I lose love-interest for guys who are easily impressed with me. Who tell me how much they admire me and how amazing I am and all that stuff. People long to hear that but they want to hear it for different reasons. I don't need those kind of compliments because I am used to them. They are what 'OMG you are so BEAUTIFUL' comments are to beautiful people. It flatters, but you are annoyed that yet again, they couldn't see any further.

I like P. because he smiled and flirted with me but didn't go for me in a very obvious way. He is busy with his own heartbreak. I didn't blow his mind that much. Anyway, not enough to cover up his pain.
And I am still interested.
I fell for D. because he let me just be. His words of adoration, later on, meant everything to me. Every little compliment from his mouth meant the world to me. Because he saw right through me, in some ways, he told me not to bullshit myself and take the easy way out. He didn't say: Oh, gosh, you are so talented Piranha, you impress me more than anyone, I want to be with you. He just wanted to be with me. The real me. So it felt.

I don't want no guys who are amazed by me. As stupid as that sounds. Because for sure I want to be adored and admired by my love but there needs to be equilibrium. I just don't want to be merely satisfying someone's fantasy of being with someone LIKE me, who does this and that and that. I want to be worth it stripped bare of all those things. Not saying that character traits don't matter. Or social skills. But the way they are appreciated and consumed, does.

summer 2008

the howling of the wolves
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again

I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing,
trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly
escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside,
rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like
ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it..s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone

544

the morning in 544 12th street, the walk along the bluff and the bus - it was hard my breath hard to regulate your hands lying, crying, telling a truth of fading times.
- i left with the shambles of the dawn -

I wake up and really don't want to.
Okay, so I get up. Straight back to working on that paper. But first, let me say this: Piranha: be aware of how much attention you give to people. Either they do it anyways, or there is something about you, but either which way, they will open up to you, invite you to look into their abyss of human condition and share with you such deep things that the next day you will feel hung over not from sweet wine but from stories that are not yours.

aggravation

some people just talk too much. i am so aggravated. and some talk too little.
i might be really missing out on something important here...like, refining myself, for example. but boy, I'll just suck that one up and leave it at that: can't you people just be straight for once? to the point.
say, "hey, we need to collect more money" and we'll do it. don't tell me how stressed out you are about the situation, when everybody already left and your little hints in the middle of action didn't get through to my elephant ears. I am not that sensitive really. when i am in the middle of a swirl I don't understand your eyes talking to me in silence. damnit.

the funny part is, those, who talk too much don't get it either, when I am straight.
I say, please, gentlmen, don't discuss this here and now, it's late.
What happens is, they explain me why they discuss this. I say "please, this is not the time and place" and then he says "young Germans are more interested in the superficie of paintings whereas people like us are interested in the depths."
but he really didn't see how the exhibiting artist was swaying back and forth, almost falling asleep while trying to listen to him.

i am so aggravated right now.

brave new day

it's weird how I woke up after only four hours of sleep. the sun just went up in that very moment and I guessed right, north is somewhat to the right of our apartment so we are not entirely facing north. we still wont get any sun shining in our faces but at least into my balcony.

i am on a ridiculous coffee or adrenaline high.
trying to write a paper but really running in the park with B in my mind. I can feel the freshness and the thump thump of our steps running next to each other.

it's hard to get back into intellectual routine, really.

the love crush has cooled down. chilli it can get, indeed, when you only try and ridicule yourself enough. it would still be interesting to find out what the truth is. there might be something about that sincerity thing his best friend told me about. he said that Germans or Berliners for that matter are more sincere than for example, his fellow Spanishmen. I wish he would just tell me something in response but maybe he really doesn't know what to say. Stating how glad I was that I met him and really didn't expect anything else to come off it was maybe too much sincerity to handle. who knows. Maybe I just should have tried to write in Spanish after all.
lol

oh, oh, brave new day.

on thursday his myspace update read that he felt stalked...and then, froggy.
i wonder....who by=?!"_ahahaha. muahahaha.
ha.
word....

you know, if you ever wonder what NOT to do when you crush on someone, JUST ASK ME. DONT HESITATE. I have it down pretty good by now.

broken inside

{that what makes me feel at the edge might be an ordinary inclination to a bi-polar disorder. maybe i am really just tripping. it is literally heart-wrenching to go through such intense emotions.
sometimes however, a very respected person tells me to be aware out there - that 'not many people know how to deal with such honest and raw emotions that you show'.
he says I am a friendship-person.
this might be an explanation as to why i got so hurt when they backstabbed me and why i tend to crave forgiving so quickly.}

I am broken inside. Fear's cold claws grip my heart and clench it tightly.
I fear the continuation of what promised to be oh so good.
The mind backflips. I just can't shake that cosmic blues sometimes.
Yesterday only I lay panting on her couch, trying to deal with how good of times these are. The utter mindfuck, the ultimate punch to throw me over the edge.
Living at the verge of falling and no security nets no where except for in the chimera and pipe dreams that hold me hostage when I lie paralyzed on my uncomfortable futon trying to grasp my life as it is dwindling and fading away.

The broken spasms call me to their underworld of letting go, drowneded pain and forsaken sorrows.
Listening to old, old memories of oh so meaningful love. The refuge from past wounds that just can't be mended. The impossible questions that can never be rendered nor resolved. The what if's, the maybe's and the don'ts. Her broken heart shimmering next to mine and his broken words. My strife, her loss, your lost soul wandering the fogged up world of phantasms and nitty gritty every day work.
Survival.
And new challenges that can be still lost
If I keep
letting
go

roadtripping

her pressed against the car and the wind is blowing.
thoughts of the once beloved drift and fade -
she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and sighs sweet affirmations in your ear.
the sky is wide, heaven far and the vastness of the land overwhelming.
small little dirty motels remind you again but you push the thought aside and feel strangely moved as you watch her squeak happily as she drops down on the freshly made bed, spreading her legs like wings.
short and painful, the regret and the guilt, you on a roadtrip but not with the once beloved one.
it's her now
and she is warm, she is real, she breathes in your hair and presses her cheek in the dent in your chest. she lies her head on your shoulder like a child and she is a woman and she is wild.
you pull out the bottle of redemption and remind yourself why you took her along. why she took you along. why you are doing this. making up for past wounds. for twists and turns and because she has born with you.
so did the wild child
but
she is warm and she is real.
you have to forget all this. you have to let go. the wild child is happy now, wherever she goes.

right is wrong is right is wrong is right is wrong is right is ... is?

In a way it helped me to work with loaded people. I learned to deal with it. And also, I learned to allow myself to indulge, a concept that had me guilt-ridden all along.

But, today, I read in a magazine (that I usually enjoy to read) these short interviews with people in Berlin about what they just had bought and why.
It didn't occur to me, that you don't have to be THAT loaded in order to actually buy relatively expensive clothing. Or key-chains for that matter.
A designer KEY-chain (a KEY chain!) for 81 Euros. The guy said style was important to him.
Good Lord, gracious, where do these people have that kind of money from?
How do they come to spend it that particular way?
A watch for 3600 Euros? The lady interviewed stated she didn't need a watch in particular but she really liked that one so she bought it.
SO SHE JUST BOUGHT IT.
I also just bought a nutbun today, for 1,50 Euros and one beer for 1 Euro. I mention this because it was awkward how I justified that towards myself and my friend. I said, well, I could have had a Falafel with that money, and it would have been dinner right there. But I indulged.

They fired a lady from a supermarket chain here because she took two refund tickets for deposit bottles (in the worth of about 1,30 Euros) that some customer had lost and took it for herself.
She is a mother of three with two grandchildren and had worked there for 31 years.
Her colleagues told on her.
The whole thing was taken to a higher court and today the result came out. Guilty. She can't sue that supermarket chain for firing her.

Because, if you take 1,30, 5 or 100 Euros isn't the point here. It's that you take it.
So I guess indulging in a 1,50 bun with literally no money really is just as bad and irrational as spending 3600 Euros on a watch.

I really just can't get over it.
They looked like NORMAL people. I guess I am really not normal then!
I must be really poor and broke, in fact!

It must be good for the economy also, but I wonder if there is anyone out there who has thought the thought to its very end. Does the economy really have to always grow? Isn't there some sort of way out???
It's like cancer almost.
I am really at a loss
to know
right
from
wrong

broke again

the new month even hasn't started yet and all the money i have for it is gone already for rent, insurance and phonebills.
great! i guess it will be the time of the year to do a 'religious' fasting ritual. I think in Christian tradition there is a fasting time from carneval time (RIGHT NOW!) until eastern. That's EXACTLY the period of time I've got to bridge to get by. I'll have some money to buy food from my assistant job, so I'll manage hopefully. With God on my side :)
Note to self: don't buy handwoven baskets in second-hand shops, don't buy food when you're out and about, don't buy, ahem, yeah, food. and no partying, but it's not like I've partied at all lately. I've been just invited to all these events. Gee. ;0)

It's also time and take a chance to start getting fit and lean and more disciplined! no more indulgent desserts in our house! hm. maybe only here and there?
:)

hard not to

hard not to write.
her hand on his legs, barcadi bottle. soap and skin singing like a dying swan, you in my arms, my touching your soul, how it felt, how it felt, when we were.

dreams buried, in shatters and fragments. she is fucking good. damn.

he spit his venom into all directions, i asked the wrong question and suddenly i was no friend no more.
there are people who can't take a wrong step. who can't take a wrong word. who can't take a wrong question.
we are so frail and fragile against these towering walls.
we have to learn to be upset. outraged. outspoken.
it hurts. it hurts when your actions are counted like pennies and intentions don't matter at
all

some friends we just have to let go
like lovers

maybe i really just wanted
to get something out of it

competition

other than my sister I slow down when I run into competitive situations when tension hits a certain degree.
I want to be loved maybe, just the way I be.
I think maybe I let it all slide. With a veil of salty tears I swept the ashes behind my dreams and let everything down.
Too many words maybe
disguised in intentions
dreams are still swirling. Life is taking it slow with me.
And I am thinking of different situations, such as driving over the hills into the valley, those Romanian clowns at the street side, the truck and later my broken car.

I got to take it easy. Grades don't matter so much except for you need scholarships.
My natural reaction is to say: I don't need anything.
But still, I am hiding behind this screen and fear the outcome.
Too many jobs and too little capacity to go without sleep anymore.


...the way he put his hand around my face echoed inside. reverberated in my soul.
i don't know who he is but his smile pierced me like an early morning ray.

Aye!

I can't hold it back!
I am gone like the murmurs of times
past
Ah, what a sweet dust covering my soul!
Don't
you
want
to
go
for
love

exception

I know I said it was gonna be over. But then there is a night full of dreams filtered by white.
And you go and can't belief your own eyes.
THE LAUGHTER IS SHAKING YOUR BODY LIKE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE
Listen, did you hear the sound?
Mostly I hear the echoes of my thoughts.
The dolphins swam with us...
What, what, you can't belief the thread?
Robbing up to the beach, sand against your skin.
Laughing in a whirlwind like swans singing on their way to meet death
Seegras on your head
Hair you flow away
Things sound so sweet when love is knocking against your innermost doors

Once, once, once
upon a time!

The hills of Berkeley, so familiar, you don't even have to exit the street

There was peace behind that veil of tears. You can't understand a word of muttering but life's winds are blowing gently, caressing your tortured skin.


Once, once, once upon a time, beneath a hickory tree.

Do you remember the hole in the bark? The nest for unknown stories untold.

Paco, the winds whispers but you're far gone.
Liking the course things take. Violins playing, bestowing meaning on your dust.
What, if you never been gone?
Ah, let me sing it once again!
In the midst of nothing! And you sway, and turn, and quiver and turn!

Once, once, once UPON! A! TIME!

The lead has gone.
Vanished
Only you. In the gray. Mist is covering your tears. Streams ceased in further times. Lightning upon your soul. Give it a chance to come. Break through. Burst in thousdand colors! AH! THE LIGHT!
Darkness is covering my soul, like layers of dirt. Piled on my streets, Gathering from ancient crusts, living up to my mares, of older times. Living up to my dreams of forsaken souls. Giving them peace in Hades, giving in to the crows, knocking gently on my chamber doors

Edgar Allan Poe

She was so sweet, against the obscurity
of vanished dreams
manifested in our lives
hard to take
hard to give
Listening to the grief
taking place in our midst
giving gently pace to forbidden melodies
murmurs of our time






can you give me one more, one more, one more, one more
of your good times

You ain't goin nowhere

Southern France 1995, a summer full of blossoming hopes. My body lean and strong, gliding through the waves, surfacing only to get a fresh breath of air.
Hooray, ride me high, tomorrow is the day my bride is going to come...
Dad listened to his Dylan Tape on end and the midsummer night storms washed my dreams ashore. La vida esta muy muy muy extrano!

alone

his dishes were dirty, piling up in the kitchen. foot prints all over the floor and the trashcans stinking. the mattress of his bed halfway slouching on the floor, the frame broken. he had run out of filters and papers again, talking to some Musician in Kansas City on skype.
I made pasta out of the few ingredients I could find in his fridge that weren´t rotten yet. The coffee machine was broken too and the cupboards unbelievably sticky and dirty. Official letters spilled over the kitchen table right next to his socks hanging on a laundry rack. Job center. Unpaid bills. Rent two months behind.
You need a label like us he says in the other room to the guy in Kansas City and then a couple of words in my language talking to me, maybe to impress him.
Can´t get to see his kid in a way that would make a normal relationship possible. And the laws are so fucked man.
He´s a hustler, baby and you know it.
later I sink into oblivion on his insanely comfortable black couch. talking about this and that. his kid. the laws. about America. about Europe. the differences. about, when it is time to leave.
and suddenly, like clouds being torn by a ray of light pushing through his attention focuses on this one question. never have i heard him listen as attentively before as I try to explain what it is like to perform music and feel this certain kind of energy flow and exchange.
i can´t explain.
this man is a wreck.
he is a mystery.

the bright side

it isn't so easy to live with people. all these different fucking emotions. really.
always cutting wings because we are so damn scared for our own space to whither and die. never indulging in trying to experience the new, the other, the idea.

but he took my face into his hands and smiled
like cupid
melting my ice

like smokerings curling up behind your shoulder

Raven black boy
Curls in my mind, like smokerings at the bay
At the Egyptian Theater
Youcame after many eternities of waiting
Insecure just as I was
Walking up to me
I closed the laptop
And my eyes
Trying to remember
Who we were
Who we were
In that night

Highstreet

i know it should't be about competition, but you still beat most of them, Emily.
I am in Kreuzberg.
It's evening. Massaged my friend. Damn. I really do love this work.
Now I am listening to Emily.
And the streets are rough out there.
Met this lady at the Falafel store. She was a connecting thread and things fall into place.
Watched people come and go, up and down the streets.
Some artists create this installation in a viewing window. Red, red, chaotic.
I am thinking of the English German girl in the U9. How fucked up she looked like. How truly fucked up. And she smiled finally, and she gave me one of her "Nimm 2" candys. We smoked a cigarillo at Osloer Str. and exchanged stories. They are making coffee in the oven where they lit a fire. No electricity in the house.
Homeless since May or so. Loves Berlin. Been here since October 2007. But she is only 19!
Her eyes so blue, light, with a dark ring around them. Intriguing. She put her hair out of her face and tried to brush it with her fingers when she noticed I smiled.
Things are weird in life.
Definitely.

disappearing

i am so disappointed now, i can bareley breathe. i try not to, but i feel it rolling in like high tide.
i feel like it washes away the restraints. the last hopes and beliefs. faith. and yes, strings losen and they break apart. porose and rotten.
yeah, there is some sense in there, sometimes. and yet. it's good to have the other perspective. the utter fucking betrayal. yes man, we are human. there are artifacts. the human condition isn't tied to instincts and fucking fate only anymore. maybe in a bigger sense, but in the daily game, there are choices. there is freedom of choice.

i guess that goes only so far as our current conditions allow.
i am watering down my own anger
i am watering down
down
down
down

i love you

it is impossible to know why or how
even though
i have heard the theory, for sure. psychology, sociology, pathology, folly.
we failed in practice
and yet

i

love

te iubesc.

alexandra leaving

sometimes I have to go back. listen to that song again. feel myself again. remind myself of those times long gone and faded.
the moment you walked into the room, so definite and declared. the lines drawn and in my arms your eyes broke and my heart quivered in unimaginable strain.

'...do not say the moment was imagined to not stoop to strategies like this...as someone long prepared for this to happen, go firmly to the window, drink it in...
exquisite music, Alexandra laughing, your first commitments tangible again...
and you who had the honor of her evening and by that honor had your own restored, say good bye to Alexandra leaving....say goodbye to Alexandra leaving with her Lord....even though she sleeps on your satin even though she wakes you with a kiss..do not say the moment was imagined...do not stoop to strategies like this...
as someone long prepared for the occasion, in full command of every plan you wrecked...do not choose a cowards explanation... that hides behind the cause and the effect....
and you who were bewildered by a meaning, who's code was broken, crucifix uncrossed...say goodbye to Alexandra leaving...then say goodbye to Alexandra lost'


still, at a loss of words

King Harvest

King Harvest

Driving the old silver Toyota. Broken window. Blankets to cover myself up during night drives up Topanga Canyon or the Hollywood Hills to the Valley.
Gallons of water in the clamped trunk for the thirsty broken radiator. And King Harvest will surely come on tape. The crackeling sound of the old tape and the blistering palmtrees in the wind. I can't forget what was, I can't ever forget what was. Can't forget my second home. The delighting naivite of West Coast folks, the refreshing superficialities that build and build until they accumulate in a big deep well.
This it is.
I can't get over it. 404. 101. 110. Sepulveda...the Massage Place and the Serbian Metro Diner in Culver City near the Jazz Life Music Restaurant with Caribbean food.
I probably never will. The taste of the Magnolia Trees in the meadow.
It's where I left my heart, where I grew up, where I loved to the moon and back.
...pretty soon the carneval at the edge of town...King Harvest will surely come.

crush

sweet sweet
little crush
hush, hush
lullaby
does he know it
i don't know
daisies are sleeping
winter is towering
sweet little laughters
good moments and faith
my little hand covered held warm
sleepy sleepy
hush lullaby
sweet little crush
makes days fly by

setting sails on the frozen seas

nothing like a sun filled morning.
my breath crystallizing in the frosty air, I throw my hair back and start walking down along the creek. ducks, ravens, puffy snow heavy on the branches....mysteries of a long night, mingled in one powerful image penetrating my eye, my soul, my mind.
it is weird, and i maybe i shouldn't talk about this. but it feels as if things are closing in. maybe it's too early yet to even think of it. maybe i should just let the feeling float on this eternal sea until it manifests in action.
but i want to sing a little melody. together with the robin. greet the newborn sun and leave the death of a freezing night behind.
traces are frozen into the snow. dogshit. footssteps. of men, women, children. of wheelchairs, bikes, tricycles and cars. trucks, taxis, busses. and airplanes posting their marks into the clear sky as if to write coded messages for skilled eyes to dissect.
i want to sing with the robin. with dylan in 'you're a big girl now'. "Bird on the horizon, sittin' on a fence,
He's singin' his song for me at his own expense.
And I'm just like that bird, oh, oh,
Singin' just for you. "
but even that song is gone now. it's new territory now. like that ice on the fjords in Sweden and Norway on which Chris skated the other day. The whole morning. On the frozen sea. the throbbing feeling has faded. there is ice covering the wounds.i slowly recover. see old ropes, rotting and decaying in the gray inbetweens of our incapabilities to cut them clean.
i let them go. let the ship sail.
say hello to the world for me.

i was sitting in the green chair, across the room from you.
you, on the violet white blanket with flower print. your sister gave it to me.
our bed.
the window, and soft, the green behind the screens.
cloudy, your hair, and soft your playing, sitting there, but gone with the wind.
i watched the light around us and the warmth.
stark and clear a thought grew inside: this is the good old time. now. and i will remember this forever. this moment of you, and me, and the beauty, so pervasive.
it was a moment made for eternity and doomed to fleet and whither then. dissolving in the salty streams of life.
it was the beginning of the end. like bells ringing beautifully the night to sleep.

excorcisms

his insecurities made me ache. the self conscious nervous laughter at all the wrong moments dooming the situation to feel uneasy and secretly I cringed inside.
only when pretending to be asleep I could let my guard down a little and just enjoy the closeness. daylight made it impossible however. his close drawing in, his inability to listen and wait and sit back to watch things grow left me deserted in my own confusion. already as we drove down the autobahn i felt it wasn't LA and it wasn't PCH or 101. A weird kaleidoscope of things had swirled me around. A weekend with the quality of the eye of a storm, sweeping my away into the big stream of life, rushing me to the seas.
But he was the X. The unknown. The incomprehensible. His interpretations sucked the reel away. My mind formed around the feelings, leaving my wounds and love and attachments wash away as the music got pushed against the four corners of the room and through the locked door. Only for a few moments my ghosts and demons lingered, getting all tangled up trying to manifest just to get sucked away in the very next instance, dissolving in the wild.
his insecurities, his wounds, his broke.
too much to care for. too much talking. too much reflection. too much light. too much of everything.
i just had to hide. i can't break through this one. it only works when it's meant to be. and torn walls can build up in disguise, within the protected.