Aerial

Crying your gods out,
Disenchanted because they didn't gift you with their boring perfection
You climb down your DNA spiral
And crash its stairs with each step that you make
Towards your fragile inner self.

Drained of its unexplainable rotation
And haunted by the double helix
Which makes classical measures of rigidity impossible,
Revolving the sun around the trees
And the trees around our own perception,
You search for outer cosmic means of scattering yourself
Into insignificant entities supposedly unable to feel,
To bind to laws that empower us with the holy balance
Between weakness and strength.

Running away from both belief and denial
Torn-hearted and aerial,
Floating on egotistical clouds of gold
Above the relative nothingness,
Pending just on the stubborn stairs that keep growing back
Again and again, healing,
You still...
You...

- to Mr. T. W.
26.02.2014

The Sphinx

She was cleaning the floor of my antiquated tears
Wiping them off with a dumb happy laughter;
My love was bleeding through her genitals
Portraying religions of sunset on the forehead of our beloved. 

She was slapped, mocked at and whipped 
I was just lonely and high, 
She got knelt down, disheveled and blown, 
While dumbfounded, I was just wondering why

I was thanking the Heavens 
For a few conventional phrases a day, 
While she bemired the Sphinx in our sheets
Claiming that everything is fair play. 

15 minutes have passed like a knife
Opening a dark tunnel in my viscera 
Through which my utopia escaped this dual world
To rest in peace, in my distilled loving era.


- to Mr. T.W.
11.02.2014