I am a street cat with a fancy last name but no sense of loyalty or belonging, I run away to the jaws of streets from the warmth of home … I’m astray and doing me kindness won’t make me less wild, giving me love won’t change me to accept that I deserve it even if you get me well groomed and dressed, my sense of danger gets alarmed every time I sense someone approaching me & shelter makes me feel less protected … if you embrace me I will scratch & if you keep me I’ll run away… I don’t want to owe anyone anything, I return to loneliness because I got used to it as a part of who I am & I dont want you to tell me the things you do for me or abandon me one day to suffer pain after being numb as a blessing … my place is not to be a prisoner by kindness tamed brushed with perfume in a house on a pillow obeying the hands that feed me but messed up fucked up swallowed up in freedom keeping my needs caged from turning to a monster that feeds on my weakness … I prefer using my instincts taking what I need from life than taking from you what you think I want for your amusement.
I walk in vanity followed by the working bees
for I am the queen of queens! Even the birds
before they sing to me they first will rehearse.
For I am the heart of the expanding universe
Please me for I am your golden dreams … Try!
You can never please me like the moon … Bye.
When it sends me love notes in silver beams
They cherish me and heal my heavy wounds …
I am in control! my palms have all the hearts,
I carry this world between for it to not fall apart.
My confused emotions are like the raging sea …
Wars could happen when I become angry … See?
I am the reason for the stars to burn with fire …
The source of desire and femininity which I am!
I am all that you yearn for touched by insanity …
Till death do you and till the infinity times four.
With my charming beauty and seductive motions,
With my earthy magnets and secret love potions,
With my overflowing rivers of heat and emotions,
I hope that I can save you, I hope we don’t drown!
I don’t want to sink this ship or doom the little flowers!
I want them to grow, to love and to bloom on towers …
To make me feel like a happy mother till my very last hour.
Be colourful my dear nature, my world don’t be brown!
You can’t love me for I am the secrets and the dull thrill!
I am the centre of this world and I have duties to fulfil.
You love me and I could tell and that is the problem …
With the way you collapse, hold! I’m crashing, I love him!
Dear walking heaven; the meaning of poetry and the reason of love wars, the innocence in your face is tempting for corruption. I surrender, I give up, I give in, I resist … This dreamy soul of yours which is stained with earthy colours is my forbidden desire, I want to drink it like fine wine, if this was possible. The way you walk like a child in the gardens of beauty makes me want to chase you, catch you and fill my lungs with your golden laughter. The way you glow makes me wonder … Do you drink sunshine in cups for breakfast or are you the angel of love? Why do the sunflowers follow you? Why do I feel that you are my good mornings, my warm afternoons, my fading evenings and gloomy nights?
Those lips of yours … When you talk, they slither softly and are deadly enough to kill. Are they poisonous berries? I would dare to try. Two goddesses playing around a lake and I would jump into its depth even though I can’t swim, I’d rather drown than be rescued. Gathered roses of which I want to extract the finest perfume that could give eternal youth. Or is it a nectar of delicious fruits that will run through the veins of the dead and give life to their cold hearts?
I don’t mind dying in your arms; where paradise lays or on the sounds of your laughs; the meaning of true happiness; the high tasteful music; the light that will conquer any evil. Your pure soul is the meaning of love,art,adventure and selflessness. An art piece that is so fine that life brags with to let me know that you’re not mine to have, I don’t deserve you but I will settle for pleasuring my eyes with seeing you from a distance.
How can something be so beautiful and torturous? Like a rose with thorns indeed, a rose swaying in the breeze playfully, tempting to be picked and owned. Breathtaking and captivating, a mix of pain and pleasure, worthless words to describe such a magical creature who is higher than to be made out of clay.
He was standing there waiting for her, searching for her face in those blurred faces. He caught her at last and she from under her shades has caught his eyes whose patience was wearing thin and that overwhelmed her as she smiled out of true happiness. That smile of hers made his lips wave back with hope but her smile soon had faded into deep sadness due to the clarity of the situation; he can’t be hers and that made her furious. His smile faded too like sunset when her two seconds smile was gone.
His eyes followed the confusing movements of her lips and that left him thinking with mixed emotions. “What is it he wants? … Looking at me with those puppy eyes … The fool thinks I would fall for such an innocent look.” He evoked her emotions with his playfulness and that has offended her most. She refuses to submit to any kind of power and him trying to do so without even trying made her hate him most. “That smile has slipped my face”.
For reasons she does not know and can not understand, she envied him. “The way he looked through me made me feel naked and exposed as if he can see my soul through transparent glass and that scares me most.” “Does he look at all women that way? Of coarse he does, he lied to me without saying a word!” She forces on a face of apathy but sadness breaks through like the truth and light would find their way through the cracks. “Every time I see him I stand straight pulling myself together … It’s stupid and pathetic.” She wasn’t all together! She’s a paradox in a human form.
“We just can’t be together so let me be …” She is grey and he is spring, she is darkness and he is light, he is hope and she is despair, he is the dream and she is a nightmare, he is whole and she is incomplete, he is strong and she is broken, he is very alive and she is dead, he is loved and she is a stranger. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
What can she do but to avoid looking into his deep eyes for they only made her feel pain, for they are one of her new fears and impossible desires. The quiet ones … Who are they but over thinkers? They would make great writers too, since they’re bad talkers. Here’s a little secret; they are not quiet at all their emotions are screaming inside shaking them and choking their throats as they ignore by trying to look calm and together.
You think I’m mad? I have to go through hell back and forth, a beast within a man, a man within a beast. The hair, the itching, the twitching, the new skin, the fingers curling … You think you know how to feel like Gregor Samsa? I’m sure not Gregor but I can relate! The great rise in temperature, I’m not sick but I am.
To where I run, to whom? I can’t but run into my unfortunate victims, they can’t run either. I have this effect on them, where they freeze … I’m sure it’s my irresistible charm and that smile of mine. Darkness is my only friend; where I live. A part of me is the shadows of the night.
I can’t hide from what I am and they can’t hide either. My hunger for human flesh doesn’t make me inhuman, my needs and imperfections are enough proof to my humanity. I show my inner beast and you hide yours but it doesn’t make you better, you hypocrites.
My mother, who is obsessed with order, told me today -“Stop building castles from sand, it will only create waves of rage and drown you.” Dying inhaling my dreams sounds like a good escape to me. I built my castles of sand and it will not break, but fly with the wind and settle everywhere chaotically like petals do when seasons change.
I want my dreams to be everywhere and out of order. I’d rather drown in my beautiful dreams than to be choked with the bare hands of reality; the serial killer of love and fantasy. It is the air in this sick world that is suffocating, I’d rather drown my head in emotions which are carried under those overwhelming waves of rage.
When I see you …
I feel the starvation of Africa!
When you leave …
I feel the coldness of Antarctica!
Sadness, who walked in the crowds, had an air of mystery and watering eyes. He was appreciated by artists as a muse to be drawn and wrote about. Actors would fake tears before him and public would clap and that made him fade but he still invades his loyal artists.