265

Reflection

My left hand on my belly

asking my conscience

to chill out and enjoy

the precise instant

when I stop relying on boys

as the one and only source

of satisfaction, of pleasure.

A lucky survivor,

once in the depths of despair,

not to be ruled anymore

I do love myself,

I embrace who I am

and today you're gonna learn

I'm not your doll.

238

Lucid dream

My big lucid dream

is overcoming us;

for at least a little while -

living in peace,

finding some peace of mind.

I only want nothingness

for I have nothing here

I only want lack of time

to avoid reflecting upon the past.

Not much shall I find

if nothing spins around,

if no signal beams back.

However, neither hearing colours

nor trading with your tongue

seems to be a sensible option now.

218

Nothing

Nothing to be said,

nothing to be done,

nothing to carry out

when life is bottom up.

In the eye of this beholder

utterly atrocious

simply lousy

all this to describe

how awful my rhymes

actually look like

how disappointing they are

to my very eye.

200

Nothingness

Sometimes it is nothingness,
sometimes all of it.
Chaos aligning just in time,
rounded stones thrown.
I read the blurry signs
one minute before floating
like rounded bubbles I go up;
yet so afraid of missing this.
I ironically smile,
advising not to be underappreciated
as I let go in complete fear
of exchanging love for red lights.
Which shall it be the result?
At least I can mention
that I am still alive
this moment to witness
among constellations shining.

186

Smell

Every single smell

inevitably reminds me

of you intangible chest;

every single moan

it is an echo

buzzing in the cold;

every single touch,

without a doubt triggers

that thought of the non materialised.

The eternal contradiction

of your (non) existing

it utterly drives me insane;

it is fever running through my veins,

it is beneath me eroding,

yet like lava violently erupting.

182

Compass

From time to time

the evidence seems to indicate

everything is fine

everything is fun and games,

indeed are we cooled down.

Irrespectfully for others, though,

one another are we smiling,

yet damned reality bites

it is no man's land;

where is the compass?

172

Natural talent

I don't really believe

I've got a nature talent,

I don't consider myself

to be a gifted woman.

I think in fact am I unsure

who it get too dark.

But let's picture this for a while:

me taking part of a writing contest,

making everyone believe

that I'm outstanding poet...

it sounds hilarious, right?

So never take my seriously,

as someone unable to handle real life,

how could I a writer become?

I only set some lines,

like in Tetris do I place rhymes;

I give you special binoculars

for you to see through my eyes.

170

Blurry Hollogram

What kind of blurry hollogram

have I become recently?

Quite vaguely can I describe

why I feel so contradictory.

What am I now certain to solve

is the physical change going on;

this kind of manifesto

of my utter, true intentions.

Not anymore am I sure

of what I really want,

and to be brutally honest

no other choice have I got.

Maybe the glass is half empty,

maybe all I see is negativity.

What concerns me most

is, however, happen to hurt them all.

To  all the people I know,

to the nearest and dearest

to this puzzled heart of mine.

Peace of mind, please here land.

169

Distant Monday

Throughout a distant Monday

the main topic arises,

the topic seems to have appeared -

the question of self love

of self sufficiency

all about being needy;

all about amends making.

Barely may I recognise

from a relatively short distance

the flute of the future,

and needless to say,

may I look back to the flame

of the recent past gates.

I self diagnose vertigo,

every second a heavy stone

a bit more must I push forward.

Where is the axis

for a peaceful existence?

Every time I firmly claim

to have come up with a clear notion,

or a steady Bible to follow

an even fiercer storm

is just around the corner.

So sudden the angst,

a scorch does my skin perceive.

A freezing cold breeze

my hair so abruptly ruffles,

and it turns into resistan fur,

it allows Darwin, consequently,

to boast about his theory.

Although the psychic hurricane

has pulverised all strength,

has weakened all possibilities

of once again rebuilding

or even about me caring

I am still working hard,

for either me or anyone

who might want to come around.

Naked do I hug myself,

indefensively do I touch myself,

checking if there is no missing part,

checking if I am a survivor

of this unequal battle.

162

Exfoliation

Exfoliation

as if all problems

were magically solved

by just taking

dead creatures off,

by just removing

some of my dirt,
as if by that means

the wound that hurts

were a spot to extirpate.

Yet am I incapable

of getting that done;

who am I fooling?

I still miss your touch,

your tender caress,

your thuthful smile,

your lovely green eyes

when you're not around.

Why is it even today

so hard to say goodbye?

only to find out

that it's just me in bed,

in fact, nostalgia and I.

When will it come that day,

that liberation day,

when I finally put an end,

not a dash but a final stop;

then that big box

with your name on

is finally locked out?

I hope it will happen

soon after this poem

is released as a sort of prayer

so as to prevent that film,

those repeated scenes,

that well known script

from going on and on.

161

Downward spiral

Again a downward spiral

of possible maybes,

of thoughts and illusion,

of everything supposedly

having been buried down.

I had once said no,

no more involvement,

no more silly ideas in my head,

no more stupid mistakes -

yet am I still so childlike.

What should I believe in?

How should I proceed?

When will I finally learn

from the bitter, sour taste

of previous life events?

141

Twenty-six

Once more round the sun,

twenty six years old so far...

to be honest, have I grown up?

As I am still unruly, still childlike.

Hey, wait a second...

I have pulled off the trigger

is that so wrong?

I still gather material, reckon.

My rhymes get sloppy,

but I still play with their etheral beauty.

I grow highly intense portraits,

I grive, suffer through laments.

140

Invisibility

Drifting into this vast space

hardly can I spot your face,

truly it has been kind of weird,

a strange situation since last year.

All that happened seems so far,

so so far since our last goodbye,

yet when I intend to go on

I tend to bump into the stone.

But now there lies a big difference

nothing comes to settle down,

I stop for a minute and smile;

I wish to move on, it's been enough.

I am so glad this has stopped,

yet where's your aura now?

Is your body having fun,

composing a lot, doing your stuff?

133

Uncertainty

Something must be going on,

I'm just uncertain, though

about admitting this or not;

how about letting it flow?

I'm mad about you.

I can't believe it,

that I've waited for so long

to find the precise words

to describe how I feel

every time I catch a glimpse

of your post metal style

glancing at everything...

everything but me.

129

Disqualified

Anxiety is knocking at my door,

I'm so so dubious

about answering or not.

Perhaps I guess I should,

and let it happen, you know...

or perhaps should I sit down.

If only would I chill out

and to this would I get back,

because of this I already feel disqualified

to fully this hard task accomplish.

122

Thoughts

My shoes are well aware,
they know where I've been.
Of my struggle they're conscious,
they'll never let me lie
about me having a clear notion
of travelling through space and time.

Countless hours of deep thoughts
my brain wouldn't for a minute stop,
and neither my feet would.
Wondering around the globe,
eagerly awaiting to let me know,
what in my life will be going on.

102

A veces

A veces las cosas pasan

y no hay vuelta que darle.

A veces las cosas pasan

sin que puedas escaparte.

A veces las cosas pasan

y dan vueltas como torbellinos.

A veces cuando menos lo esperás

estás bailando al borde del abismo.

No soy quién para aconsejar,

nada creo haber aprendido de amor y amoríos,

pero tampoco es tarea fácil dejarme doblegar

por lo que dicta el libre albedrío.

Sin embargo es menester un armisticio

entre razón y sentimientos;

y en ésto mentir no me permito:

yo también hago cosas sin sentido.

A veces las cosas pasan

y bien hacen en darse una vuelta

porque así me doy cuenta

del placer de estar viva, suelta.

89

Walk

It's hard to go out for a walk,

especially when cathing a glimpse of our spots.

Everything then goes blurry all around.

The scenery suddenly goes black and white -

turning into a VCR I need to rewind.

Unfinished talks surrounding us

of what we used to hate and love.

Not only did we hope for things to unravel,

but also were there dreaming of travelling,

of our souls finally rediscovering.

Even though that day would never come,

that those events would never happen,

I really expect you get those things done,

I really wish you the best of luck,

and honestly want you to know

you will always remain in my heart.

83

Demystifying

No one has become my saviour,
no one will ever do that,
but it is my demeanour
the only way for this to end up.

The only agent or factor here
has turned out to be me
in the past I must've misheard
all the words my heart uttered.

I know I can't fully rely on others,
and now I wouldn't like to be bothered,
though I'm aware there's a huge problem
if I supress people in the name of honour.

82

Steps

Now the first step I need to take
is acknowledging the fact that a problem remains,
is admitting these obstacles have been for too long,
and that it's a time bomb when ignored.

What's next is the second step,
the one towards complete rebirth,
might be that of saying sorry for past mistakes,
and make amends with myself.

Gaining confidence in the terrain
might well the third step represent -
it is indeed extremelly necessary to be brave
and against all odds your view prevail.

I don't mean to expose this as a universal law
never in these lines have I intended to do so,
but I'm quite certain, that's for sure,
the turns taken so far were driving me to a civil war.