You are a dream to me

You are a dream to me, and with your surreal self I wrap myself.

Falling Star

I looked at the sun shining through the window,blinding me, and involuntarily wished for you as if upon a falling star.

Wish

Coulours flash behind my eyelids, and I cease breathing, if for a moment. Your lips give a kiss that emits a shaken exhalation that shivers from my jaw straight into my heart. I have never felt so satiated, yet I have never been so greedy.

When the sky bruises

When the sky bruises, and the patterns that dot the canvas of our eyes appear, I see you in the constellations; I see you and me dancing through glitter - through stars. Will you tell me what this means, will you tell me everything? I kiss your eyelids goodnight, and through molten colours I fall, back back back, here I am, back to your future that I call present.

What or who are you accustomed to, dear?

What or who are you accustomed to, dear? Knows you not that they lied, when they told you’ve nothing to fear?

Were I ever to reach

Were I ever to reach my heart's content, then perhaps, perhaps, would I die with a frown upon my face.

Wave

I am a wave of the sea, rising and rolling, falling. Only to start again. Monotony heightens me, diminishes me. Only hope keeps me going, for the moment I will finally taste the sand, for the moment I will break on the shore of some beach - or perhaps the rock of a cliff. For that fatal taste of life, so different from my one, a time of pure discovery to lie me to sleep satisfied, at last.

To Have

To have what I desire would mean to relinquish what I yearn for, what I dream. To have it all, would be to have nothing, to be but an overflowing vessel of salt water - a sea soon dryed up.

Tickle

A whisper tickles my ear, a kiss on my neck, and I giggle. His hands now at my waist, one sliding to the small of by back, the other rising to the nape of my neck. With his hands he presses me to his pelvis, lifts my face to his lips. the jarring and playful licking, nipping, of tongues at kissing.

The Whisper

A whisper of a word, light as the silent fluttering of bird's wings, caught in the air's web. you try to decipher it but by now it's been carried away, gone too soft for you to hear. no matter. you lie on your comfortable bed, all alone, feeling content and lazy. You stretch, arms over head pulled tight, toes spreading apart from each other for a few seconds, your back arched. You're still in position when a chill tickles its way up the middle of your back, reaching the tight skin behind your neck. Immediately, you react by curling up like a ball on your side, and then you smile, closing your eyes. A memory of a lullaby haunts you, eerie yet enchanting. A lullaby you used to know so well but that now you remember only in fragments. You start humming along to it, letting it grow inside and out of you, letting it take over your mind, body, and soul. You're about to open your mouth to let the sound permeate the air, when a soft sound - one of a wind-chime moving - stops you. You open your eyes, and snap to a sitting position. But there is no one in your bedroom. A draft must have made the wind-chime at the foot of your bed move by itself. But by what was it caused? You had no windows open, no doors open. Another whisper. You had just reached out to steady the wind-chime, but now you stiffen in fright, telling yourself that if there had been someone in your room, you would have noticed before. Right? You close your eyes again, trying to gather courage to turn around and look around the room again, to convince yourself that you are right. When you open them, you brace yourself, and look around the room. No one there. You give a shaky laugh, scolding yourself for being silly, and are about to lie down again, when you hear the whispering again. But this time, it's much louder. You still can't make out the words, but you realise that whoever it is, is singing out a tune very softly. A tune you recognize. A tremble takes control of your body. You hadn't checked under the bed. Again you try to prepare yourself, and figuring that it would be much better to get it over with, you look down underneath the bed without thinking too much about it. But there is no one there. As much as this is a relief, you are still frightened: the singing has maximised in volume and it's not stopping. Your legs feel like butter when you stand up to check underneath your other bed. But once more, when you look beneath it there is nothing. Where could this person be hiding? There is no where else in the room...yes, there is. the closet. Tasting metal in your mouth and perspiring so much that your shirt sticks to your back, you slowly turn to look at the mirror that covers the closet door. A scream erupts from your body, disfiguring your face.

The pitter patter of rain on an umbrella

The pitter patter of rain on an umbrella, as I watch him come towards me, to open the gate. The pitter patter of rain on the umbrella, as I do all I can to not let it drop on the floor, to swing myself upon him. The pitter patter of rain on umbrellas, as he stands beneath his, and I mine. The pitter patter of rain on umbrellas, as suddenly, they both lie on the floor. The soft breaths and gasps, as we both taste, thirsty for the elixir of our souls. The drowned sound of clothes falling deafly to the floor, of rain blossoming from drops and falling into rivulets upon our skin. The silent sighs, as they turn into calls of victory. My hot tears as I sob, as I fall back into reality, me on one side of the gate, and him walking away from me, forever.

The Frontier

Our toes touched, our bodies a breath away. As we stood facing each other, sharing the tepid air, unity was the only feeling, interrupted by heavy, nervous breaths. To reach out, to taste the tempting fruit - or to shy back, scramble back towards childhood?

The End of Paralysis

"There you are!" suddenly, I was gripped by the arm, and I turned around baffled. "I've been looking all over for you, you know!" The person speaking was a girl, auburn curls bouncing around a soft face. I had no clue as to who the hell she was. "Sorry, you got the wrong person," I said, turning around to leave, jerking off her hand. "Oh! You sure do love a joke! Now don't be silly, and help me with my shopping bags, won't you?" Now she was holding on to my arm so tight, I could hardly feel my hand any more. I frowned at her. Leaning in, she said, "There's a guy that's been tagging me the whole day, please, just play along, maybe he'll let me be." The whisper sounded like something right out of a movie, but as I looked into her dark eyes, I couldn't help but believe her. "Ok." I said shrugging. "Right!" she said, once more speaking loudly. "Let's go to the library, we're late, and if we don't get there soon, we'll never finish our history project." Saying so, she started marching me to the town library, but not after shoving about five bags full of god-knows-what-girls-buy into each of my hands. And she still had some to spare for herself. Incredible. I actually had to go home for lunch, or at least, I thought it was lunch hour. I wasn't sure. I'd long lost my watch, and anyway, now that it was summer, I didn't really need to look at the time. When I was hungry, I went back home for food. And that was that. Mum and dad were never home anyway; mum at the women's charity association, dad at his golf club. So it didn't matter when I got home, just that I did, before they were back home. Which was usually around dinnertime - when the sky became a hazy indigo- or not even at that time at all. If I was lucky, they would call me, and say that they were eating out. Then I could stay out more, wandering about the town's streets. Preferably the secondary ones, where there were less people. "Are you coming in or not?" The girl was standing right in front of the library's huge oak doors. When had we gotten here? I'd been so busy thinking about I'm not sure what, that I hadn't realized we'd reached our destination. I nodded at her, and followed her in. Immediately she walked to the back of the many bookshelves, looked left and right, and then went left, heading straight for the plushy pillows in the corner, where no one else was around. I followed her, the bags loud in the silent library. When we reached the corner, she settled herself onto the biggest, plushiest pillow. I remained standing, looking at her. She stared back. So I put the bags in front of her feet. "See ya," I said. I really was hungry. I wanted food. "Wait, don't you like libraries or something? By the way, thank you SO much! I0 mean, gosh, what was UP with that guy? he kept on following me, and once he even snuck up from BEHIND me and whispered in my ear. I didn't quite catch what he said, but really, what a creep." She said all this extremely fast, as if her brain was going too fast for her, so that she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Uh, well, they're okay. You're welcome. I have to go now..." I started leaving again. "I said wait! Let me present myself at least, and you tell me your name. It's only fair that I know the name of my saviour if I'm going to thank you properly. I'm Tisha." She held out a hand, and I looked at it a while, considering replying. I could have saved myself by ignoring her and leaving. Since I have a thing against people. They're so useless....but I reconsidered, and reached out with my hand, taking hers. It was soft and small. "Luke." Shit. Now I was going to have to talk to her. "Oh! What a nice name! I've always like the name Luke. I've even considered naming one of my kids that...not that I have any kids, but you know, in future. That is, if I get married. Not that I have anything against single mothers, but I'd rather have a kid if I'm married. You know what I mean?" "No." "Oh. Don't you like kids? And could you please sit down? My neck is starting to hurt from having to look up at you. Go on, sit. I wont bite." An image of me running towards my favourite hiding spot, in the small park by the fruit market flashed trough my mind. But my body wouldn't cooperate with me, and instead sat down. As I did, she opened her mouth to speak to me, but her cellphone rang, shushing her up. "Hey!" She greeted cheerfully. She chatted of this and that, I'm not exactly sure of what, I couldn't bother to listen. The rumbling of my stomach was too loud. I looked around me. Man, I really washungry. Why hadn't I gone home? "Sorry, that was my sister. She said mum wanted to know if I was going to eat home or not, but I told her I'd stay out." "Ah." "You're not very talkative, are you? Oh well, I guess I can talk enough for both of us. Do you have any siblings? I've already told you I have a sister, but apart from her, I also have another sister, and two brothers. We're five. It's quite chaotic, so I guess mum'll be happy I'm not eating home, you know, one less mouth to cook for." Pain cut through my mind, the coldest of steel, sharp to an impossible fineness. "No, I'm a single child." "Really? Wow, I wonder what that must feel like." The pain went away and I let out a whoosh of air. "So, were would you like to eat? I'm so hungry, I could eat an elephant. Wait, actually no, I like elephants. I dont want to eat one. I wish I could have an elephant though. I'd name him Bo. Isn't that the loveliest name for an elephant? I say we eat at MacDonald's, I havent got much money." "What?" "What do you mean, what?" "We're eating together?" "Have you had lunch yet?" "No." "Are you hungry?" "Well, yes, quite." "So am I. And since now we're friends, I thought we were going to eat out. So we could get to know each other more." "We're friends?" "I guess we aren't yet. Why do you say the word friends as if it's something weird? Don't you have friends?" I shrugged. "Oh well, whatever." She tossed a curl back. "So, you fine with the Mac?" "Ehm...ok. Why not." Who the hell was she? And why had I said yes? She was a maniac, and she wouldn't shut up. "Awesome." She got up, hands on knees, and then she took some of the bags. "Get up, I wasnt joking when I said I was starving, Luke." The way she talked, you'd have thought we'd known each other for ages. "Oh, and take those bags, I really can't carry all of them at once, my arms ache."

The disarming thought

The disarming thought that I might once more be falling down deep, inexplicacably deep, in love with the likes of you brings a smile to my face, and a blush to my neck, makes me shift uncomfortably, and makes me yearn to change my mind once more.

The Cape

In a flourish, he entered the room, cape fluttering at his hind. He was a stranger to all, but that was not the reason why they all turned to stare. He had a certain air about him, a certain importance. The way he carried himself was somewhat unsettling: the gracefulness of his movements seemed to belong to another world, none had seen a man walk like that. And yet the grace was not effeminate: on the contrary, the women seemed unable to look away; they were eating up his virility with their eyes. He was tall, and by the way his cape hung on him, most probably thin or perhaps well toned. His jet-black, straight hair appeared to be wind-blown, standing a bit on end, attractive. But what was most intriguing about him, were his eyes: the deepest of colors -

The Borderline

I wait for you on the borderline, teether between what is called Sanity, and what I once believed to be my true world. Where are you? Did you get lost in that no-man's land I was forced to abandon, or are you out with the Healthy, out with all of those who do nothing but pretend? I've been looking out, day and night, but I cannot find you. If only I could go further than here, without the fear of never being allowing back into the other world. What if you are not in the world I venture into? Does that mean that we are simply not meant to be? I will stay here a little longer, keep on waiting. Then I'll allow the wind to choose, to push me into whichever reality it thinks suits me best. I will sit here cross-legged, half in, half out. Waiting for you.

Supernova

The world floats, and I flounder, not wishing to sink. Music is no longer a sound as it becomes a white explosion, the volume so loud. My body is and isn't, glowing light trying to undo my skin from the inside. The pain is searing, and I scream wordlessly, the heat too much. Supernova. All gets sucked in just as it expands infinitely, and I am a blackhole, cold and empty, there and here and nowhere. And so I cry an invisible flow of tears, whatever action that makes me a being pulled away too quickly, never with me long enough to call mine, until I am merely a mind with snatched thoughts, and then, inexistant.

Spring

Flowers blooming, opening up to the sun, letting out the fragrant smell of their insides. Oh, what a lustrous time spring is! The air is fluffy like cotton, a gentle touch to the senses, an invisible cloth that blankets us. Kisses stolen, kisses thrown out generously, breath against skin, breath in quick intakes, taking in the smell of another, hands grabbing and pressing another body against ours, trying to fill up all the empty spaces. Collapsing limp, chest heaving. Laughing makes it worse, but you cant help yourself, you are giggly to the bone. Someone tickling you.

So tell me, how does it feel?

So tell me, how does it feel? The top ten list of things that scare me the most, and then I choose to celebrate the worst.

Somewhere along the road

Somewhere along the road, I lost my soul to a spirit in the glass. She promised she would keep it safe forever, before vanishing, leaving me with a mirror that reflected nothing back.

Seed

I ran my hands over my stomach, my hands sunflowers. I turned sideways in front of the mirror, so as to view my profile. A nice bosom, a small but curved bottom. My countenance was erect but relaxed. No other curves invaded my image. How could his child be growing in me? I inflated my stomach as much as possible, managing to achieve only a pathetic swell. Then I lifted my shirt, and looked at this pretend baby. Pregnant. My hands fell to my sides, and I walked up close to the mirror. As I looked at my face, I saw nothing that would betray my state, nothing but large, frightened eyes, wells of despair and hopelessness.

Searching for You

My mind expands into the void, attempts to achieve the impossible. It tries to reach you, to find you with its tendrils, to embrace your essence and drag you back in, so I may know you, pick apart every detail to create an emergent whole. But the solid barrier formed by my body cannot be overcome by such a vapour or liquid, be the mind whatever it is, and thus I cannot even yet dream of ever knowing the world, let alone you.

Safety

She huddled her limbs closer to herself, tucked herself and her breathing into the nooks and crannies of her body. She would hide from him, she would hide from them, she would hide from the rest of the world. Far, far away, deep in the burrows of her mind. Safe.

Ruins

He sat on the sand, leaning against the gray remains of a once upstanding building. His clothes vile, grungy, rotting. They hung on his frame, made smaller by a famine that couldn't quite hide the majesty of his bones. His ample shoulders, the long legs that attributed to his amazing height - all seemed double without meat to widen him and make him seem shorter. Hidden behind another ruin, she watched him. He seemed unable to settle his own gaze on anything from the real world, his eyes flitting from one imaginary something to the next. Dark eyes glittering with an irrepressible ire, attracting all the attention from a gaunt face almost skull-like. He used to be handsome, she knew. Yet none of that charm could be traced in that man whose lack of shaving had let stubble grow into an unshapen beard. His hair too, was unrecognizable. Once, it had been well-kept, the pride of a man who knew he always looked better than most. Now, it was but a tangle of knots upon knots, straggly and filthy.

Roselein

Roselein, Roselein, Roselein rot. How young and beautiful you look today. How beautiful, how young. So unlike me, old and wizened by pain. You probably do not think so, but soon, oh, too soon, you shall be like me, world weary, tired. Your silky red petals brown, your fragrant smell gone, your proud stance slouched. Life is not easy, and it spares no one. Roselein, Roselein, Roselein rot. you probably dont believe me. I bet that you're thinking you'll survive, after all, the chilly weather spared you. Why shouldnt life? but rejoice not, my dearest, for the winter is to come. And who has ever heard of a flower that flourished in the snow? In the cold? In the darkness? Not I, not you. Roselein, Roselein, Roselein rot. Soon - oh, too soon, we'll say goodbye.

Revenge

I am running in circles, a hyper squirrel, a dog with an itch on it's tail. I grab my head in my hands, grab fistfuls of hair and pull, frustrated. Like ghosts, memories of your smile, your laugh, your touch, and your kiss mingle, rub themselves eerily on me. Or are you really here, taunting me with your invisibility? I snatch at air that in truth is no denser than the rest that surrounds me, moan and dive headfirst onto my pillow. The bed creaks in protest, and I decide to fight with it, kicking it hard with my feet, elevating my legs as much as they can, despite my stomach-down position. Then they hurt and I stop. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, and I hate hating you, because in truth I still love you, but I'm not going to admit it, not even to myself, which makes me a hypocrite, because I just did. Which makes me hate you even more. I look towards my bedside table, see a silly decoration of an angel made of glass, smiling. A present from my aunt, last Christmas. I pick it up delicately, trace my finger over her contour. I like the noise it makes when it hits the wall far on the other side of the room, the way the light jumps off it's remains, all over the floor. It reminds me of sea glass. Carefully sidestepping shards on my tiptoes, I walk to the window, climb on the window sill, press my face and hands against the pane. I look down on life, and imagine opening the window, my body gathering speed, the feel of concrete against my skin, muscles, the vains rupturing, the bones breaking. I try to imagine in what order all of this would happen, but passively. I'm only on the third floor. I hit the window with a flat hand, but the people down there don't notice. Nobody looks up at the girl who is trying to think of all the reasons why she shouldn't be with him, and who isn't afraid of any of these reasons as a normal person should be. I'm thinking he should be afraid now. He left me, and now I hate him, even if I love him anyway. I jump from the window sill, land on bits of the angel. Small red drops come from me. I get up not caring, deciding I need a plan.

Return

Let me go again, let me go right back to the beginning, where we could still tell each other we loved each other, rebound after rebound. And so I listen to this song and realise what words I've substituted and inserted, and feel like I did back when I was in love. Why do they all ask me of him, ask me of my future? Why do they all expect me to love, when it is one of the last things I wish? Why do they all expect me to be volatile, to be passionate when I do not know any other guy worth knowing, have no desire to befriend any other at all? I am too tired, too bewildered still. There is nothing more I can do for now, except wallow in the aftertaste of a kiss stolen from my very own lips.

Rebirth

The pungent smell of grass fills me, and I can feel the cloudless sky without opening my eyes. I can hear the wind teasing the flowers that stand hesitantly on their fragile stalks, and I can taste the dullness of a bee's humming upon my numb lips. I no longer fit in my skin, and I yearn to peel it gently off, to extricate myself so I may finally stretch.

Purple Rain

Purple rain, as dense as blood, washes over me, stains me. I am getting soaked, but instead of searching refuge, I remain where I am, staring down at myself. The drops fall on my white cotton shift, blossom like terrible dark flowers. Soon, the flowers overlap each other, and the white becomes almost black in the semi-darkness of the sky. My nails look surprisingly light, compared to the shade my skin has now acquired, but they too, have changed. They are fuchsia. I smile a small smile, because I think that's a bit funny. The rain is plastering my hair against my face, so I push it back, my fingers deftly waving it into a braid that reaches my hips. There. That's better. I can't really see much, but I do know that I am in the middle of a field, the woods flanking my left, a small brook singing on my right. There are mountains beyond the brook. But I can't see them now. This makes me feel small and alone, so I sit down. The earth and grass squelch as I do, and mud splashes onto me, but I don't care. The rain washes me clean soon. It feels weird, the rain. As it's viscosity slides down my skin, it is warm, slightly sticky. So I lick my arm, wanting to taste it. It's familiar metallic taste makes me gag, makes me regurgitate what had come in, makes me pant in shock, makes my eyes open wide in fright. I scream, the mountains echoing my voice.

Promenade

I promenade through the wild garden, picking flowers, weaving them into an intricate and overflowing crown. The ripe reds and shouting pinks and singing purples clash cheerfully with the burning oranges and blazing yellows; the few mezmerizing bluebells splashes of sky in a fire. A few leaves and vines poke out here and there, and I am as much part of the color in my azure summer dress. Strapless, tight at the bust, loosening in feather-light cloth till right above my knees. The rest of me is bare, my skin tanning gently in the early summer sun. Soon, I finish my crown. My black curls preventing it from sliding off, I don it. Their gentle perfume woos me, makes me smile like a fool.

Oh, Muse!

Oh, Muse! If only I could feel the sure pressure of his hand against my skin, rubbing away the cold. If only I could feel the tickling warmth of his breath against my skin, as he comes closer to me yet. If only I could feel the amazing safety of his arms around me, as they banish the loneliness. But my dearest, wonderful, thoughtful, amazing, Muse: You give me the gift of inspiration, of imagination, of creativity, of dreaming. And though I can't thank you enough, I can't help but wish, that for once, you'd give me something more substantial.

Nausea

Oscillating, vertiginous, even, despite the fact I'm on fours. A new wave of nausea rocking me. I collapse onto the floor, the surface ondulating, rippling, tilting from one angle onto another, each degree tipping me closer to the descending edge. Spreading my limbs, my hands are flat, sweaty palms with fingers clawing the tiles. Maybe, if I keep holding my breath, it'll stop.

Mirage

I walked towards school, but felt a prickling, a magnetism pulling me back. Everything became white when I turned around, all shapes disappeared, all contours, all smell, all sound, all taste. I was on solid ground and in space at the same time, and behind me the school had disappeared too. When I turned away from where the school had been, I saw a figure standing close to me - so close. With a hand he reached out, caressed my cheek with a finger. His sad smile filled me with nostalgia, and I pressed his hand to my face with my own. I shut my eyes, taking in his essence with my skin. It was overwhelming, when he pulled me to him, and our arms curved around our shapes in echo. The memory of his scent, the temperature emanating from him, the weave of his clothes, the solidity of him. I looked up at his face, and as our eyes met, images flashed, good and bad. Something started pulling me away, and as our hug dissolved, our hands slithered down our arms, fingertips lingering against one another's for a moment more. A candle was blown out, and lit once more. I was back where I had begun, that moment of eternity doubtful in it's vanishing existance.