How do you sleep at night knowing it’s a lie?
alley cats are blue but her eyes are green with glue
born red she’s turned black, a hooker for the screen
one, two, three… rising stars never got you very far
the music on vinyl made her swing, made her thrill
she came dressed in leafs like the late autumn bliss
yet she does nothing of the things she speaks…
I wrote my letters with blue ink, locked the door and shut the blinds,
the last of candles burned down to the bottom of its jar
and worn out pages still rebel from a Bible that we’ve owned,
Steve passed away last night and the floor got cold,
all that’s left to save are laughter and three paintings on a wall…
I’ve been too young, my hands weak and my heart unsteady,
I’ve let the fire wildly spread and wreak our covered beds,
the jury did not charge but ash is all that do remain –
October roads of painful slow, no one knows where they go,
and blue rain starts falling from the diamond skies above…
I am growing feathers
my skin is getting dark
eyes see further, it is high
I am turning into a crow….
Save me from my own denial
come like a yellow prince;
I burn with every word
nails boiling from the plague,
this is the path I took,
I sip water to washout the truth
and my book is filled with hollows,
will you love me?
shall you see?
my heart is growing tired
live to it or let it be..
I fly too high
I burn the eye that sees,
like Icarus I tend to breathe
but pillars fall and bridges die,
hold me once
hold me tight
and love me from the silence
adore me from the dark,
I’m looking for a brother
I am searching for a sign…
I am black
my nails are sharp
feathers dark and feelings high,
this is why
the love is kind…
There must be a reason,
for each passing day there is a page of writings in your book
and a mark of every moment meant to fall,
what if I had the eyes to read?
and what if I knew each word you had to say,
wake me up before I cry
and pour little lies in my ear tonight,
I will find the shrine,
I shall bring back light,
will your fire burn on the last day of our time?
There must be a reason why a flock will kill the one that shines,
I’m a lonely wolf with a blue heart
and a stab in the rust seems to be too fast,
I have to slowly go,
my hands turning to clay day after day,
I grow roots out in the cold
and my heart grows as it was foretold,
go my children go,
forests so wide and rivers so long,
you are my blood and you’ll carry my song…
Și care este rostul a tot ceea ce scriu, a tot ceea ce spun, a tot ceea ce „creez”? Are un sens mai profund decât acela de a încerca să impresionez, să arăt că sunt „altfel”? Uneori mi se pare că tot ceea ce fac e un mare și elaborat auto-sabotaj. Vine iar în gând întrebarea (doar îmi place să trăiesc în întrebare) neliniștitoare…ce e real și ce nu e real? Cum sunt eu atunci când se trage o linie? Sunt așa….eu. Mai probabil nici nu e atât de important cum sunt și ce sunt. E imperativ să mă accept, să mă iubesc pe mine însumi și să îmi fiu prieten. Cel mai bun prieten. Ca în poveștile cu adolescenți…un soi de BFF.
Ziua de azi a fost o zi pierdută după standardele sociale general acceptate. M-am trezit târziu. Am mâncat. Am făcut o baie. Am văzut două episoade din Dark Matter. Am mâncat iar. Am dormit. Nu am citit nimic pentru examen azi. Mă simt rău, mutilat, neliniștit, neîmpăcat mai degrabă. Iau un pahar cu rosé, pun o piesă de la Depeche Mode și încep să scriu. Ea mi-a dat mesaj în urmă cu vreo jumate de oră. Defapt mai multe mesaje. Îi răspund după care încep să scriu din nou despre viață, non-sens și alte răstălmăciri ale realității. Filosofie în gol dacă pot să o numesc așa. Fac filosofie de unul singur pentru că mi-e teamă să înfrunt realitatea care e mult mai simplă. Dar uneori, azi, mă simt ca un yoyo. Oscilez între aspectul de „a da bine” și ceea ce simt. Poate o să reușesc să ascund din nou vibrația asta sub un preș de afirmații fără de substanță care mi servesc periodic.
Adevărul, când sunt capabil să îl admit, este că am plecat în urmă cu vreo trei ani. Fizic nu, într-adevăr, doar sufletește. De aici și senzația de a fi sfâșiat din interior. Congruență. Nu sunt congruent… trupul și sufletul meu nu se găsesc în majoritatea timpului în același loc. Sunt deplasat, deviat; probabil că există o sumedenie de termeni care pot fi înșiruiți aici. Ah…trebuie să îmi revin. O să ies să îmi fac cumpărăturile săptămânale. Două palme peste față, o gură de apă rece de la frigider și…cumpărăturile, acum!
I cannot read I force myself to write
I find a thousand reasons not to care but I’m intrigued
and getting out of bed is quite the chore,
I feel that something’s off;
“Do I put up rhymes to soothe my mind
or are they just sweet nothings before sleep?”
My eyes are stinging daggers and my ribcage feels like stone
the legs won’t listen,
the air is stall
and the brain seems full of holes…
“Give me a reason!
Give me the bliss of things I cannot remember!
But put them in a box before…”
and let the rain washout the wax,
let it show those tiny cracks this statue of Adonis has –
I need not straight lines,
nor coronation over brothers,
no words to change me from inside,
no shaming of the Fathers…
Will I be able to forget,
to put aside all reasons of regret –
a mountain with a lake is all it takes
courage and strong hands
and burn the Empire,
may the Order fail…
![a3242003123_10[1]](https://whoisalice.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/a3242003123_101.jpg?w=471&h=471)
Daemon…
I got a nasty daemon sitting on my shoulder whispering,
hard sex, whisky and cigars – that’s not what he’s showing me,
it’s a daemon of the rock bands from the ’70s
and this ghost is slowly driving me crazy…
I got these dreams of a guy called Reed on a Zeppelin,
I saw the landing on Mars with my very own eyes
and everywhere I go,
I see dead bodies of chords I thought I used to know;
white daemon,
I’m on my knees and getting sick for the 47th week,
I can’t control the need to rock and roll,
please have some mercy on my soul…
Daemon,
this need is slowly eating on my iron core
and with each day I turn more into a music whore,
an evil grin upon the face, a dirty Vixen with no name,
so I wrote lyrics on my walls from the bottom to the stars,
for one must get the words to find a door
like a magic incantation of a sorts …
Oh dark daemon,
talking nonsense on the backbone of my world,
release me from my contract
give me a life of endless sin, I’ll do anything,
but please put and end to dreams
and shut the voices killing from within…
I took a pill,
swallowed it down,
made my head feel small
and made my arms fall,
it turned my body still
and my thoughts unreal
and slowly disappear…
I took a bite
from the real medicine
it took me by surprise,
the smoke was heavy
my lungs went limp
the eyes are shut
how could you see?
you’re a ghost
don’t dance with me
don’t walk with me
don’t talk to me
do whatever ghosts do…
I took a pill
it wouldn’t kill
I’m still here,
refound my check
I need the money bad
to pour once more
blue blood into my veins,
to fake the days
to scorn my ways…
I took a pill from many
and sucked the life in me
it succumbs my will,
broken with a sparkle
building up some friends,
I loose the time
I misplace ideas,
put it back inside,
on the hard track of my mind…
I took a pill
to betray my will
to rise once more,
to tear apart control
to let it go…
“Where did I go wrong?”
“You didn’t!”, it’s in my mind, a longing for destruction,
don’t swim in the boiling water, why would you take it as a drink?
my bones hurt,
the air is so heavy,
I’ve lost my child while going to the Church,
pure eyes, pure need,
why would you believe? “Why don’t you stay?”
“I’m already away..”
run, they say, stay, they say,
giants can’t read the book of John of things to come;
“You don’t listen!”
“I hear your thoughts…”, they think I’m lost,
one step closer,
two bricks harder to reach,
don’t open doors that won’t take your key,
“Slow down…”
there’s a morning to each,
too white, too dark,
“I can feel the spark!”
“Should be burning now..”,
and go, they say, come, they say,
the voices fade, till one day…
Where is all that love I used to feel,
all the dreams and all the poems that I wrote to give?
I woke up one day and all was gone
and letters from the past seem to me so strange
I wonder if it was me or the words are rearranged…
My heart was warm and soft, it turned to stone,
my hands are cold, they can’t reach you anymore..
The night must’ve been so long that I turned out old,
and I walk into the light with courage and bare feet
I’ll hold my ground and won’t accept defeat…
Un Jurnal Neverosimil 