@DeDal N. - ma bucur mult ca ti-au placut ^-^ Te inteleg perfect, si eu am luat o pauza buna de la poezii, care va mai dura ceva din cauza perioadei asteia, dar incetul cu incetul ne revenim noi. Apreciez in special comentariul legat de forma - indeed, I love working with that one, si imi place sa ma joc cu diverse structuri atat in proza, cat si in poezie.
Nu am mai scris nimic in ultimele saptamani, dar am cate ceva de dinainte. Prima e uhm, kind of foarte personala and dear/real to me because of that. Iar a doua e o simtire de moment care m-a cuprins dupa ce am terminat de citit si corectat chestii scrise acum multa vreme, atunci cand mi-am dat seama prin prisma lor cat de mult m-am schimbat. Hope you'll like them :)
"inheritance is accidental"
her presence casts a timid shadow
that makes my soul crush
into walls unknown to me
that had been separating
ambiguous concepts for ages,
lingering between the gentle touch of a key that fits
and the confinement behind your previously assigned ward.
so I wonder -
i) was there a time
when the white strands of carefully covert memories
didn't crown your hair
forsaking past grace for present caducity?
you burnt those pictures away
without a second glance,
you sacrificed piece after piece,
ripping it off your healthy bones
without building a new self in return
and, while others blamed the lack of mortar
on the rotten cells of your labile mind,
never fighting the imminent disintegration
cast upon yourself with cruelty
by chance,
no one cared enough to realise
that maybe
you only set fire to yourself
because the vivid photographs of the days
before you kneeled
froze you in a time
you could no longer control.
ii) how long have you been standing there
in the doorframe,
hands behind your strenuous back,
mouth barely curling in a whisper?
have you drowned your thoughts
under the glimmering surface of deceiving judgement
or are they only spoken
to the particles of dust
floating through a room
stuck with a peculiar scent that kept us all away
amid all compassion?
you never opened the windows,
afraid the wind would blow
the little that was left of you
away.
iii) why won't you just leave me alone?
anger rises in veins that can contain it no more,
so I burst at you carelessly
because it's easier to step on crooked hearts
than acknowledge their mere need for affection;
because the uneasy step
someplace, sometime, before someone
as far away as everything I've ever known
had rendered my empathy inexistent.
your fragile beingness baffles me,
the sudden void you'd leave behind would do
just the same.
I love you
but I don't know how to,
so I close another door
and become complacent in the venom
of my own futility.
iv) they say schizophrenia
can be inherited
quite easily;
so am I shutting you down,
for fear of what I might become?
"everything is transformed"
reading particles of your old journal
is like watching the negative
of lost matter and conserved days
as it drips
into the realities
you have outgrown.
Nu am mai scris nimic in ultimele saptamani, dar am cate ceva de dinainte. Prima e uhm, kind of foarte personala and dear/real to me because of that. Iar a doua e o simtire de moment care m-a cuprins dupa ce am terminat de citit si corectat chestii scrise acum multa vreme, atunci cand mi-am dat seama prin prisma lor cat de mult m-am schimbat. Hope you'll like them :)
"inheritance is accidental"
her presence casts a timid shadow
that makes my soul crush
into walls unknown to me
that had been separating
ambiguous concepts for ages,
lingering between the gentle touch of a key that fits
and the confinement behind your previously assigned ward.
so I wonder -
i) was there a time
when the white strands of carefully covert memories
didn't crown your hair
forsaking past grace for present caducity?
you burnt those pictures away
without a second glance,
you sacrificed piece after piece,
ripping it off your healthy bones
without building a new self in return
and, while others blamed the lack of mortar
on the rotten cells of your labile mind,
never fighting the imminent disintegration
cast upon yourself with cruelty
by chance,
no one cared enough to realise
that maybe
you only set fire to yourself
because the vivid photographs of the days
before you kneeled
froze you in a time
you could no longer control.
ii) how long have you been standing there
in the doorframe,
hands behind your strenuous back,
mouth barely curling in a whisper?
have you drowned your thoughts
under the glimmering surface of deceiving judgement
or are they only spoken
to the particles of dust
floating through a room
stuck with a peculiar scent that kept us all away
amid all compassion?
you never opened the windows,
afraid the wind would blow
the little that was left of you
away.
iii) why won't you just leave me alone?
anger rises in veins that can contain it no more,
so I burst at you carelessly
because it's easier to step on crooked hearts
than acknowledge their mere need for affection;
because the uneasy step
someplace, sometime, before someone
as far away as everything I've ever known
had rendered my empathy inexistent.
your fragile beingness baffles me,
the sudden void you'd leave behind would do
just the same.
I love you
but I don't know how to,
so I close another door
and become complacent in the venom
of my own futility.
iv) they say schizophrenia
can be inherited
quite easily;
so am I shutting you down,
for fear of what I might become?
"everything is transformed"
reading particles of your old journal
is like watching the negative
of lost matter and conserved days
as it drips
into the realities
you have outgrown.
![[Imagine: 1CGzWYg.png?1]](http://i.imgur.com/1CGzWYg.png?1)
Thank you, Geesushi! ^-^
"these are the days that must happen to you"