My Needs

It bugs me so much
It trembles my rocks
It chokes me to death
It breaks my locks

I am broken in
I am exposed
naked burried in the
heap of rotten meat

Can you give me the clothes I need
Can you weed my garden tidy
Can you kill those nagging rats
Can you loosen up these tight ropes

I want to ram myself inside your bones
I have to drink your blood, breathe your breath

Resurrect me!
Glorify me!

Stepstones

What is it that bothers me?

Happiness goes in and out my soul the way she likes it.

What is it that bothers me?

past present continues future questions doubt.

What is it that bothers me?

What would it be like, if I blindfold myself?

Way to Perfection

Why can't you be more like that?
Why must you think this way?
Why can't you just be more tolerant?
Why can't you just change your way of thinking?

It is not me that you want
It is not me that you need

Because I can't be more different than that
I can't think this way
I can't be more tolerant than I am now
I can't change my way of thinking

questionmarks

why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
what is going on
what is wrong
who is wrong

Is this what I want
Is this what I think I want
Is this it

what is going on
what is wrong
who is wrong
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad
why do I feel so bad

this afternoon

egoism egoist egocentric egotistic

I undergo hours of journeys just to be with you
I work overtime to afford more than just a weekend at your side
I am willing to spend the night at work just so I can stay a little bit longer in your arms
I told my friends that I want to concentrate myself to you
I; I; ME; ME; ME!
echo throughout the land

egoism egoist egocentric egotistic I AM

Swallowed Rage

Oh how I wish to wash away all of those conjuring thoughts full of thorns. Sometimes I believe that I am capable of crushing everything bit by bit into the smalest mollecule....

I do not know if I am really able to be that cruel. The thought is there, though.

Walk on by

Days are streams of consciousness, which mutilated into shreds and particles of juggled dreams. Months constitute of racings of blurred days; the fastness awes, the vastness crushes.

I am shoved through many mazes of woods, rivers, and streets. The flying smoke of the fox in the woods lulled me in my wooden cradle; blanketted my shivering core with its redwhite silken fur. I lingered into the river and was pushed by the slithering two headed serpent through the blazing water. Closing my eyes, I inhaled all the fluids and the ray of light into my lungs. At this moment I reached the mouths of the uncountable streets and begin my bewildered journey of trials and errors. I am still here.

Swaying in between

days are streams of consciousness, months constitute of racing blur

Divine Conversation

I want to pray again.
I want to face That Source of Energy with all my soul
I want to.., but I am afraid I am not entitled to,

with all the sins I have done and which I am going to do.

My Blessed Being

I am happy

Am I happy?

I think I am happy.
But if I am happy, why
am I questioning if I am really happy?
Or is it just a feeling of hesitation
which is covering my contentment?

I must be happy now.
It has supposed to be happiness.
It has got to be joy.
I did laugh
I did smile
laughing and smiling

I did

So if I have had all that, I guess I have achieved that exuberant state... Have I?

Pressure

Images

NICE WARMHEARTED bogus FUNNY INTELLIGENT INTERESTING PRETTY feigned SMELL GOOD EASY GOING PLEASING EARNEST illusory CLEVER EXPRESSIVE TALENTED false DILIGENT FUN AFFECTIONATE HONEST KIND SENSITIVE WISE sham MATURE LOVING :

The jewels shimmer most brightly in November.

Natzweiler-Struthof

Ghosts were everywhere there. It was cold and white. I could not trust even the land I stood upon. I could not find an unharmed road to walk on. It was a vast expanse of land, cultivated to satisfy the appetite of the strong. Every inch of the soil was spoiled by blood. The air is full of ferociousness; you can inhale cruelty. I could not stay too long. It was like being jammed inside a freezing, narrow box. You could not move; you just crouched there searching for some light, trying to breathe properly.

I saw them, piled on the snow; towering to the sky; as if trying to make a ladder to escape the electric fence and the maschine guns. A tower of cadavers 800 meters above the sea.

I saw them, hasting in a centrifugal motion leaving the chimney of fire. They did not want to stay there, neither did I. But I could walk out through the gate alive, most of them could not.

My Time Table

What does it like being 30?

As I was 6 I wanted to be 13
(they were so cool I wished to be in their gang in the junior high)

13. Pimple face, outsider, stork, too skinny; member in no gang.



As I was 13 I wanted to be 20
(my neighbor studied chinese literature and could speak the language perfectly...She's tall and pretty and smart, and she already had boobs!)

20. Still too skinny with zits here and there, lonesome, low self esteem; studied german literature, troubles with the grammar, the tallest of the whole school and whaddaya know... a pair of boobs!!



As I was 20 I wanted to be 16
(I wished to be 16 and careless and free!!)

As I was 24 I wanted to be at least 20
(Oh no, I see more wrinkles under my eyes!! Where can I find a good anti aging creme?)

This weekend I will be 26

I freak out

Ginger Milk

2 lt. Milk
300 gr. hoed Ginger
Palm sugar and/or normal sugar (as you like it)
Honey (if you want to)

Put everything in a pot and let it simmer!

Go to your library and choose one of your favorite books. make your bed ready. Read the book while sipping your ginger milk. Play your favorite music on the background. Look outside the window and be thankful because you are warm in your bed reading a good book and sipping the yummiest winter drink ever. The world outside can ravage with its coldness, for all you care!!!

Have a cozy evening!

Despair

Say you need me and I will come to you
Cry out you want me and I will run to you
Lie if you have to and I will believe your words trully

I will not question I will not doubt
I will be dumb I will be naive
If that is what I it takes for me to be in bliss again

Let me hear the soothing sentences
Let me swallow your make believe wholly
Let me praise your utopian existence

The tip of an iceberg is all I long for
Nothing deep nothing sincere
I will numb my sharp feelings

With all my heart I will accept
all these superficial escapes you offer

I will be dumb I will be naive
If that is what it takes for me to be in bliss once again

I Will

I have to wear my mask more often. If they like me better that way, I will. I am too hideous to bee seen, too grotesque to please them. I thought those times have passed by, when I had to wait behind the line and could watch everything from my dark corner. It was really wrong to allow myself to spoil my soul with these delusions. I have never been a beautiful swan. Once an ugly duckling I will stay being one. So I will soothe the world with my mask. I know where I belong, so I will face the sun with my covered face, so that the world could stay intact. The uglyness of me could horrify the calm blue sea and turn the peaceful waves into a fearful tsunami and kill so many innocence on earth. I mean no harm. So I will wear my mask more often. I will.

Living Out Dreams

Yesterday the thought came to me. Another relationship bit the dust; and the thought came to me: where is true love? Is there such a thing as true love?

A year ago I was still this little, naive girl who saw the world through her pink glasses. I believed that people are basically good, that we can always trust others. I knew that there are bad people out there, but somehow I trusted it that they didn't exist in my own-built-world; they couldn't exist. The worst thing is, I believed that there would come the time when I meet the one who will love me with all his heart, the one whom I can love back also with all my heart.

I thought loving someone means always doing it with the whole of your energy, like Elizabeth Browning said in one of her poems, " [...] with depth and breadth and height my soul can reach [....]" I believed her fully. I believed it would come in my way. I always imagined how beautiful it would be, to be able to pour someone your love that way..., to be able to experience it; being loved that way. So everytime I thought love is coming in my little path of life, I thought, " hey, now it is your turn, girl!" Then I would start to live out my dream. In the end (there were unfortunately always ends) I eventually realized that I was just dreaming my love life. In the end it is just me with pieces of my shattered dream.

I am the product of trashy love songs and poems! They mislead many people like me! Urging us to believe virtues, which actually just exist in the minds of simpletons.

Really, they should ban such arts!

Fun(ny) Love

It is a community where love is a commodity.

It is just fun and nothing but fun. If it makes no longer fun then you can go try and look for another fun in another place from another person. If you don't play their game, you will end up being the ball instead of the player. You can stick to your principles and enjoy yourself being tackled and or kicked around the field. Or you can play their game and forget who you are and your root and history.

It is another side of the planet. They have different rules. It is the place where you ought to eat or be eaten. It is the location to eat more than you can chew. You just have to ignore it if you choke. Ignore if your food is sending you to meet the skeleton with the scythe. You can still be a zombie and continue to eat delicious food! There is no end to fun. Fun is life. Fun is love.

Hail to capitalism!

On the Battlefield

What is wrong and what is right? Are there still any standard answers for this ultimate question? This is a battle. I am standing in the middle of the field with my weapons on my back. My lover is my greatest enemy. My enemy is my beloved lover. Just like Penthesilea and Achilles. In the end she killed him and ate his heart. Eventhough it meant that she also ate her own heart at the very moment. So she died when he died.

Inside Dreams

I feel like I am walking in my sleep. Or perhaps in someone else's sleep. It is very surreal here. The days are hot and fuzzy blue. The nights are dying cold but full of day's light. I don't know this city. I don't recognize my home, my room, my bed. Different. Unalike. They are aliens in my little world. A few times I caught myself trying to wake up and get out from this particular scene in order to find something I am familiar with. This turbulence of dreams are holding me a prisoner. In the dream of dreams I am drifting like fog above grass, moving slowly, taking my time to put my marks on many corners: "This is my territory!", I'd say. What is surreal could perhaps be sur(e)real.