Night out

  The soul is too great a burden to bear. As we were cursed with our own tortoiseshell. And we’re so eager to find another body to pry open and stow our burden somewhere between its greenest places. The funny thing is that we’re so much happy to beckon someone else’s soul in. Until we wake up their ghost. Until we forgot where we’ve put ours. And until there’s only one standing. This is the process that men and women are willingly trapped in. This is the process of love.

Mary-Miscarry

  On your first step, the one you’re going to print for the family photo album, I will break you. Then I will let you out of the mould. Let you grow up. Make friends. Love. Make love. Dream. Let life catch up with you. Order your coffee with sugar. Drink your coffee without sugar; like you should. Get on the train, have your own family. Get all dressed up. Spend your night in. Trash black and smoking christmas trees. Get depressed. Light up on meds. Grow sick and tired of the faces around you and long for them when I finally let you die of old age.

Mia

  From the time you’re born, you are not responsible for what you will come to be. You wear your mother’s choice of hat and your big brother’s belt, tight around his trousers as you’re trying to mimic your father’s smile. The tough part is to understand that and to become free. When you’ll start seeing and hearing things that were not there before. This is called being an adult.

Four walls

  Sometime, somewhere, we trapped our own existence. But there must have been a door there in the wall, when we came in. You see, we’re told such monstrous lies, that we need one to get out. And a window to get some air, a few drops of rain and a piece of the sun. For all I know we’re trapped inside the walls we built to shelter our flesh and bones. And every day we’re looking outside inside only to find that everyday we’re losing touch.

Vanity

  There, in the spotlight, where so much is expected of you. So much by doing so little. So little damage. This is the most difficult reality to place me in. The truth that every flaw projects and my made-believe beauty’s keeping balance. In the spotlight, where you earn your applause or lose yourself over the details, where every time some devil sneaks in.

I want to believe

  I say now I can remember everything, in perfect detail. Everything’s crystal clear. I open the window, pull the drapes and the sun rushes in. The bell-ringer jumps and bobs in distance. The sheets are white, clean, and I’m glowing. I’m radiant, I’m vibrating. Can you hear my heartbeat? Joanna, can you feel it? I drove all night to get here and it doesn’t feel like flying at all. More like crawling. That sharpened it. And then there’s you. You sweetened this up.

Masquerade

Thoughts are tricky.

Peeking is tainted.

Lips are red-sin.

Bodies cheapen each and every thing.

Moving is simply putting on an act.

Touching drags you back to earth.

Words are blinding solitude.

You and I are unimportant.

The only thing that keeps this world together is sexual union.