Void

That void to fill

That unables me to feel

I cannot be healed

Unless I get fulfilled.

A womb and a heart to fill

Batteries refilled

Bliss in a field

wander through the hills

Couldn’t be ill

Throw away high heels,

Throw away highs and lows,

because now! He knows.



Abandon

Useless and fruitless

Though harmless

Understanding and

Undertaking

How much more do I still have to cope with?

What more am I going to go through?

Always the wrong guy

For whom I whish to die

Good riddance, I say

Barefoot dance in the hay

Overwhelmed, mesmerized

But grieving and unorganized.

Upset, up the stage

Of my own acted life.

Affected, effectually dried out;

My bosom ripped,

a sunken womb;

I’m making my way through hell

Wasting away, until I hear the ringing bell
 

 



Ténèbres

Fi de dentelles et de soies,

La ballerine se rhabille.

La toile trop rêche sur son corps

Sa langueur n’a su faire

Battre son coeur

L’Homme l’a dévorée

Cependant elle patiente,

Délaissée, brisée, pantelante,

Haletante, cherchant l’air

Perpétuellement aux abois.

Laissée à se contenter de vétilles,

Elle n’a pourtant pas de rêves dorés…



trifle

You’re such a man of taste

and I wouldn’t make you act with haste

the more I seem to get close to you

the more it seems I’m pushed away from you

ou’ve revealed so much in me

You’ve become my addiction

So tell me? What’s the recipe

for me to become your obsession

What does it take you to get interested in me

Peut-être que pour toi je ne suis qu’autrui

You have invaded my world, my heart,

and soul; your passion for art

would make me want to be your canvas

But I live in a pragmatic world, and alas!

I know I’m but one of your many distractions

and Lord! I wish I were just a bit more

i’ll be dancing and laughing and dancing. No chore

could stop me from trying to have you love me

until we meet and get to that chemistry

that I wish is going to happen

unless you want these lines to remain forgotten



Love and lust

Love and lust

Like luxury and trust

You’re but a dream

My shiny sunbeam

Let me enter your world

even if my hair is curled

I’ll breathe your skin

and make you my king

Sure you can’t imagine

How much I’m suffering

You’ve been my saviour

and I want to try the flavour

of your lips lightly pressed

on mine; feel my breast

and let yourself go.

Lay me down on a bow

I ain’t an enemy

I’ve been a muse

with a hell of a bruise



Untitled

Angels descending

Like Orpheus

In Tennessee

So dark they couldn’t see

How miserable

A creature can be

Sweet music is soothing

But life’s noise is terrifying

I do not belong on earth

Wish I wasn’t given birth

My craddle like a grave

On a road still to pave

Scars unseen are never

To be healed

Such a burden to bear

and a life of dispair



Who art thou?

I got in touch with you

And you’ve turned

My world upside down

I’m all topsy-turvy

Always think about you

In your neck I would drown

In your eyes I would learn

With your hands I’ll figure

Who I am and what I’m here for

Your lips on my breast

And there I could rest

hear you breathing

Longing, wishing, wanting

I’ll be your canvas

and your hands like brushes

would feel my skin

and bones like cracks

I’ll be your playground

And then you’ll make me

Come alive

 



Maid at Sea

If i met you,

would you know?

the mermaid has faded

the fairy’s not that fair

What if we’d done it?

Would you lust for me

that much?

Would you kiss my neck

and beg me to be yours?

Would you hold me

And dote on me?

The time has come

For me to live

and stop seeking

the course of love;

Take me home

And love me

In whatever way you want

Let’s get abstract

I long for your arms

Your shoulders and

your scent



How I faded

Fears and new years

Like beers and cheers

How can I feel good alone

And lonely in a crowd?

A crack on a bone

I’m hurt and loud

 heart like a pit

Where the water has dried

swallow or spit

has not made me a bride

A lousy writer with no bucks

That indeed sucks…

Here’s a terrible song

Who’s gonna be interested

I could show my thong

But then would be arrested

So what’s the point

In writing when smokin a joint?

Popping pills and

Getting thrills

Take a torch

and tread to the porch.

Packing things up

and don’t forget the syrup

What I need is not a map

neither cash nor a snap

But indeed something

That’s thrilling and exciting

Leave it all behind

Even if it’s still in mind

I’m engaged in a race

To find some new place

I long for perspectives

and new promises

I don’t belong here

For some it’s hard to hear

Even if my heart belongs

to him, he knows I long

To get my share of happyness

Blissfulness takes so long

I must leave this sadness

Get the way of my own

Get rid of those bonds

and find a nice little place to own

 



Fruitless Moon

And so there I was, bleeding and miserable in bed. Knowing that life had failed me. Half broken-hearted and insane, grieving, weeping, and hurt in my inner self. Alas, nothing was left to mourn upon.
As blood was dripping and flooding, I vaguely knew I’d never be the same again. His supportive words, but an eccho as I crawled on the floor. Alone and weak, crippled on the floor. Physical pain, that I can bear. But what I’m going through now is just too much to overcome. Grief can actually take your own life. A part of me has died, has been cruelly killed.

And though I can breathe, I bear death deep inside and it’s not tolerable. I can not accept. How would I go on like that?

Next thing I know, I’m on a cliff. the city down there is busy and lively, no one can even notice how death and void are devouring me, gnawing me. I still cannot understand why one can inflict so much suffering and torture.                                                                           Can he figure out what it is like to be carrying death. I’ve dated death, i’ve kissed him and tried to get along with him, getting closer and closer. It took me a lot to finally accept it. Some would never know, some would never understand, some would call me a murderer, a selfish coward who did not stand to face the butcher. I figured I did not have the choice. Don’t we always have? Let’s say it’s for the best, but I could never forget my seven-year-old scar



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