Take heart

thrown
from overextended stay
caught in deliberation
further away
from little did we know

one caress was all ...

what defines
this fortuitous world
we're now shown

as we fall and align,
stumbling
into perfect exhilaration


.

Space

Euclid's geometric postulates:

who advances
is forever alone

put your fingerprint
right there
and not be still,
but still unknown

a maiden piece of paper
in a new world to explore

an interval
between the lines

always full of open spaces
reaching for a place to be
but falling into unsure

and not unlike the elements,
that by now have flown,
we are also drawing blanks

where all logic of this you and I
should have been forever,
like axioms, cut in stone

polite society still ranks
and truth of our existence
is left undecidedly postponed


.

Mashup

cut-up from several

severed by form

then paste

cast into format

where no glue can contain

shearing edges of souls

leaving remnants of pain

in their haste

to fly in all directions

and get away



.

fait accompli

I am searching for sympathy in sound

but sometimes
even truth cannot unveil
the complexity
of initial intent

and I hate the seconds, minutes
turning into hours and days

weeks and months
become eventually years
of expectations

whispers fade
and memory recreates
a different, bearable story;
but, ending always in finding
what we cannot grasp

this cycle encircles us again
and again
until every moment of slumber is welcome:
close me in to forget

a synchronised drumming
turning fractions into fractures
in hours, days and months
...
of racing up that slope

where we are always one second too-late in time
desire is a blinding eye to the die
that's been already cast

so haunt me,
but I will fight your expectations
that when we finally start meeting,
will stop beating
one second, too fast



.

Posture

many composed drafts later
but still,
empty space is not enough

no memories left of words unsaid
sealed,
don't cough up

tongue tied,
knotted deep within
fear confused with pride
emotion always with sin

and I am envious
of your eyes;
see this wind
not feel its pain, to the core
recognise the folly:
this umbrella against the rain
but,
no more

trade my saline taste
detach, my shoulder
take these senses;
secure this cast
become the beholder

forsake etch, take-in sight

where can I find this place
of no more torment

my impressed stance in which to hide



.