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pretty dolls with broken eyes [dead girl's poem]
"If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it
Remember only the verse, songmaker`s cry, the one without tears
For I`ve given this its strength and it has become my only strength.
Comforting home, mother`s lap, chance for immortality
Where being wanted became a thrill I never knew
The sweet piano writing down my life"
"Teach me passion for I fear it`s gone
Show me love, hold the lorn
So much more I wanted to give to the ones who love me
I`m sorry
Time will tell (this bitter farewell)
I live no more to shame nor me nor you
And you... I wish I didn`t feel for you anymore..."
Her curls were laughing as she ran through the alley on her way home and the ill wannes almost dissapeared from her cheeks. The girl didn’t seem to have more than five before u’d look her in the eyes. Her dress was all wet because of the rain but that could wait, she was too incited to show the picture she found.
The shouts make her stop in the door, while hundreds of shivers traveled her body and hurting her ears. The raindrops fell on the floor but they were not aware she could hear. She’d want to tell him she’s sorry, but for change she only receives the rain of not-supposed-to-be-known blames and unspoken regrets that start making circles in her mind.People shouldnt make decisions with tears in their eyes, she thought, but she knows she wont be forgiven.She doesn’t really understand for what, but there must be something wrong she did. The fallen picture from her hands made them aware she was listening. She’s paralised with fear, can’t say a word.She knows what’s coming next. She also knows she has to keep her mouth shut, or it will hurt worse. This time no tear fell from her eyes, it actually felt the right thing.
Back in the swing set, she looks once more to her clown doll. Probably he’ll die with her.His huge smile still covers a big part of his face, but his look is different. He thinks she’s guilty too.Her own hands hit her head over and over again with all the strengh she found.So hard that the tears came up in a flash of second sparkling on the earth and making it spin. It felt even more right now. The blood was flooding her little shoes and everything got blurred.no congealed.no glows.just flowing, as inexpressive as empty hearts and broken dolls. Next to her, the wind was carrying an old blood-spoted photograph.
Post blue [or blue post]
Cutia de chibrituri rasuna pe marmura rece in toate colturile cimitirului.Fata scoase un betisor si aprinse toate cele 4 lumanari, apoi aseza trandafirii pe mormant. Nu simtea nimic din ceea ce ar fi trebuit sa simta, in afara de ura pentru omul din spatele ei iar ploaia nu mai spala nici un pacat de asta data.But you know what is? Revenge. I heard it's best served cold. Who's hungry?
The panic was long gone while the resegnance and indifference took place on her face.She knew that his influence on her mind was intensified by the circumstances and by that natural charm of him, the way he seemed honest and carrying, and by the burning love that killed both of them till ash was all that was left of them. All that made her proud that she could gave her life for him and even more happier that she won't leave him alone. It almost felt that it would be her right do to that. Goodbyes had no point and so there was the exhausted long list of explantions, expressed feelings and sorries for that old broken promise.There was nothing to say anymore, walking in circles with no words, with nothing at all but screams and regrets, memories and blue spots in the air.Revenge? If you still care don't ever let me know.
Lichidul lipicios o amuza la inceput pe micutza de langa pat, doar privirea mult prea fixa a mamei ii dadea uneori fiori.Albul rochiei contrasta dureros cu sangele putred de pe dantela si imbibat in podea iar vantul suiera prin camere facand ferestrele sa se ciocneasca. Fetita tresarea de fiecare data iar in curand picaturi calde ii umezira obrajii din motive pe care nici ea nu le intelegea, ci simplul simt al unui copil de 3 ani le cauzase, in timp ce privea intrebator spre omul ce stergea acum teava neagra a unei jucarii pe care ea nu avea voie sa o atinga. O certase atunci cand a incercat sa se joace cu ea.
Note: He wasn't a murder from the beginning.The obsessive thirst for more and absolution broke a mind and a happiness to sensitive and talented man. He was kind and pacient at the start. The world made him selfish and revengefull. He wasn't a murderer from the beginning..
The panic was long gone while the resegnance and indifference took place on her face.She knew that his influence on her mind was intensified by the circumstances and by that natural charm of him, the way he seemed honest and carrying, and by the burning love that killed both of them till ash was all that was left of them. All that made her proud that she could gave her life for him and even more happier that she won't leave him alone. It almost felt that it would be her right do to that. Goodbyes had no point and so there was the exhausted long list of explantions, expressed feelings and sorries for that old broken promise.There was nothing to say anymore, walking in circles with no words, with nothing at all but screams and regrets, memories and blue spots in the air.Revenge? If you still care don't ever let me know.
Lichidul lipicios o amuza la inceput pe micutza de langa pat, doar privirea mult prea fixa a mamei ii dadea uneori fiori.Albul rochiei contrasta dureros cu sangele putred de pe dantela si imbibat in podea iar vantul suiera prin camere facand ferestrele sa se ciocneasca. Fetita tresarea de fiecare data iar in curand picaturi calde ii umezira obrajii din motive pe care nici ea nu le intelegea, ci simplul simt al unui copil de 3 ani le cauzase, in timp ce privea intrebator spre omul ce stergea acum teava neagra a unei jucarii pe care ea nu avea voie sa o atinga. O certase atunci cand a incercat sa se joace cu ea.
Note: He wasn't a murder from the beginning.The obsessive thirst for more and absolution broke a mind and a happiness to sensitive and talented man. He was kind and pacient at the start. The world made him selfish and revengefull. He wasn't a murderer from the beginning..
Whiskey lullaby
Parcul era gol cu exceptia a doi straini ce stateau pe aceeasi banca si isi daruiau priviri involuntare pe ascuns.Totul incepe cu o privire. Iar privirea, rareori poate fi controlata. Dialogul incepu cu firimituri puerile pe alocuri, jocuri si cer senin iar totul actioneaza in favoarea ta. Trecerea timpului isi pierde noima, orele se fractioneaza in secunde si nici nu ai apucat sa te bucuri de apus. Lumina difuza te trezeste putin din reveire. Faci un pas inapoi si il privesti.Leaganu scartie dar nu iti amintesti daca v’ati dat in el, in schimb gasesti in ochii lui intelegerea a tot ceea ce ti se pare nou si nu intelegi.Iar acum,e prea tarziu sa te opui.Atinsesera momentul in care incep extazul si visarea, in care emotia este esenta universului, iar materia este doar o coincidenta ghinionista.In luv with ur own tragedy.
[caption id="attachment_239" align="aligncenter" width="450" caption="mazgaleala veche ^^"]
[/caption]|chintesenta inocentei|
Erau tineri si exuberantzi si nonconformisti si se simteau neimpliniti in arta ca si in iubire, iar acum profitau amarnic de libertatea specific non-parentala pe jumatatea de coltz a unei canapele. Camera era ticsita de oameni, amortzita de rasete frenetice, imbibata in alcool, hipnotizata de lipsa prejudecatilor, imbacsita in frishca, decorata cu imagini de eroi furibunzi care cauta lovituri letale. Trasau linii imaginare langa ei. Buzele ii apasau ushor pe gat, o muscau de umar, ii tulburau privirea, tremura si ii inghetza sangele in vene.Erau unici si e completau in totalitate Nu vrea sa-si inchipuie un apus de soare. Isi imagineaza rasaritul. Luna tocmai a plecat. Zana noptii o infioara, o cutremura..dar tot mai vesela e la rasarit de soare. Povestea isi are continuitatea pe care multi dintre noi ne-o dorim. Nu toti. E doar un pas. Suntem neimpliniti. In arta, ca si in iubire.
Acesta-i doar inceputul, culori si vitralii intr-o lume a suspinelor, curcubee de ape in gandurile negre fara sfarsit. Pucte de suspensie prevestesc sfarsitul tipic, de altfel previzibil, iar tigarea arde singura in scrumiera. Imi alina dorul de tine.Da, ma cauta aduceri-aminte, le voi memora cu o bizarerie nebuna in priviri si nici nu-mi va pasa. Aducerile-aminte nu le cant, oricum, pentru tine.
Se plimba pe faleza cu paru-i pe spate in bataia vandului. Radea din toata puterea. Rasul se amestca cu lacrimile ei formand o comuniune perfecta. Pasii nu o mai ascultau, mergea impleticit fara sa priveasca inapoi. O muzica nebuna imi sparge timpanele, dar nu stiu sa dansez. Voi invatza. In curand voi dansa cu tine.Visez?!
Amfetamine. Tamplele zvacnesc puternic, o frenezie primavaratica isi are radacini adanc infipte in mine, dar o las sa astepte pana in prima luna de primavara.usa se zbate in fatza mea si vrea sa ma omoare. Sta sa sara infatisandu-mi-se ca un peisaj apocalitic creionat cu petale de floare moarta. Auzeam cum se zdrobesc pumni in usha ca intr-o falsa inchipuire.Cade in genunchi sfidant sangele care curge din pereti, si spiritele ce implora, pentru ca se afla cub genunchii ei. Natura moarta, inima de plumb si farmec vinetziu in obraji si imprejurul ochilor.
Dimineatza anuntza o dara de lumina patrunse in camera si ii deranja privirea. Nu flori, nu primavara, nu soare, nu caldura; doar praf, lacrimi, memorii si morminte, iar peste totate: EU. Cu blugii ruptzi, scuturata de frisoane si cu un dor pentru fum, un singur fum de tzigara. Incerca sa isi revina in simtziri. Orasul cu oameni, autovehicule si cladiri, parcuri si gradini nu o mai cunostea. Era renegata, un fir de praf intr-o imensitate alba, imaculata.
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