Essence

Strange to see it now, without those glasses

From a sober perspective, a lost perfection

Yet, it is remarkable that

Though everything changed

It somehow remains the same

It makes me wonder

There is something about it

That inspires me to disassemble it 

Into the tiniest pieces

To put it together again, mindfully analytically

I wish to deconstruct it and shape it like myself

But I also want to take it as it is and wear it like a costume

I'm tempted to perturb it

To push the boundaries of its invariances

The  robustness of its complexity 

My compulsion to unravel its true source

I just really need to discover which pattern is responsible

For my mental model kidnapping

The severe necessity to understand

Till how far can I stretch its composition 

How many parts can I remove until its kernel disappears

Yes, there's something about it that is unique

Which I tried to reproduce 

Using my collection of unrelated stolen items

But couldn't get even close

Tried to describe it exhaustively, repetitively

And still could not portray more 

Than a remote resemblance of its essence

Middle

Flying around for miles, putting that same old label on obsessions and compulsions, like pointing fingers.

Going forwards, trying to skip time, crashing over an unconscious desire that lingers.

Dragging your body backward, forcing yourself into what you don't want until you do.

Congratulations Dr. Freud, tried to treat your heroin-addicted patient with cocaine and got him addicted to the two.

And now, what's left is just a Sylvia style. But don't worry, I ain't turning the gas on in the kitchen, not anymore.

I was invited to ride a flying balloon full of love and was carried in by a hundred loving arms. They gave me marshmallows requesting nothing back.

I asked: why are you so kind? And they told me: 'put this screen away! what are you looking for?'

I went like: oh, there's this place I gotta go. I just gotta get back there!

But why kitty catty? Can't you just find it here?

Oh no, oh no, I searched around. I went left and right, up and down. I checked all directions and corners. I could not find it anywhere else...

Wait a minute... I'm such a liar! I tell these self-deluded stories so many times that I believe them myself.

I did, in fact, find a place beyond this one, but it was so unreal...

So I doubted it and set it on fire until it disappeared. Then ya, I'm pretty sure there's nowhere else now.

I have a pocket full of words that can't form any truly new sentence.

Had this dream in which I tried to leave a note for myself... jezzz... that's how I know now I didn't fully have my right mind on guide when I did all that shit.

And what's really weird is that I can see two different colors, one through each of my eyes. So now I can perceive the world in two versions simultaneously, and that freaks me out.

Tonight, I wonder which term will be the largest when I finally finish my dream words-cloud.

To be honest, this whole thing is ridiculous, I've watched that movie before. And God, I could swear... I'd have bet anything that it was dead. I really didn't think about it at all anymore.

But oh, I no longer consider it a curse. Maktub. It was written. I wrote it formally, literally, entirely. There's always something new to write, and yet, I keep just repeating myself. "even though the meaning is different every time."

I'm throwing away, right now, everything I thought I knew. I'm ready to believe.

Though, I still remember the other side every day. Today I dreamed there was a portal in my room, and an SS soldier gave me his hand. I touched him and didn't know what to do but cry.

He said: 'why are you doing this? Come back here. You did it all on purpose!' I screamed: but soldier, soldier, you're no soldier if you hide in the trench all the time! I swear I didn't do a thing! And this time, not even my sister...

It was not until you scared me, and only then, did she come out. It was just a night caller, a "nightcrawler". But it was you who let these demons grow in your mind, and then they grew in mine.

And the more you hid in your trench, the more I sang songs in ugly languages. And it is too late now. But ya, it is never too late unless it is.

How deep is all that inside me? I wish I were in a Swedish dataset of twins separated at birth. Then maybe I'd know a bit better what I really can't get rid of.

My therapist said I should take the risk. I asked: would you? And she nodded negatively. What the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?

All in all, this is a search for more excuses. To justify this constant fire burning inside.

I had to give it a name and a face. I always have to give it a color. To pretend to myself it is not just my own ghost.

Someone inquired me: why listening to the same song thirty times on the same day?

So I rationalized: well, I wanna make sure I get all the words and know all the notes. But ya, the truth is I never let anything go.

The cow type. Gotta eat it, puke, eat, eternally. Only this way can I feel like something matters.

Ain't nothing in between unexistence and totality!

Wait! Here I go again. This is my old mindset... from that cheesy soap opera.

My bitter realization that my heart was divided made me accept I don't really have a heart. It is more like a box of toys, full of these ink types. And ya, no such thing as balance.

Though I guess it is true, one side will always win. At least one side in each hour of the day. Or one in each dream.

And fuck this madness! Because inside me, there's never space for me. Just an eternal war among savages and soldiers. These recurrent themes keep coming back fractally. I said it already, and I'll say it again, it is consciousness theft!

Time after time, under torture, I confess crimes I never committed. Trying to process some undue guilt, I heat up my deeds, and I distort them. So, listen to me: no more!

Therefore, now, crossing this abys on a rope, every time I'm falling left, I'll look right, and as the right pulls me in, I'll look left.

Perhaps that's the only way to stay in the middle. Because if I look at any of these sides for too long, I'll be consumed into ashes.

And this time, I refuse to resist by simply playing. I shan't play anything, I'm not that person anymore.

I was sucked into a gigantic tornado, and it really changed me. This is all true. This is all real.

The part of me that is here right now is truly here, and that part that is missing is genuinely far away.

It never goes away

I had for long being mourning

Then it came without warning

Santa managed to bring

Christmas gift early in spring

Played so much with the toy

Sucked out all energy and joy

Oh, it used to be like leaven

Could transport me to heaven

Sadly now it's the inverse

It's calamity, it's a curse

Like an installed parasite

Deadly ill I can not fight

Oh, it never goes away

Always standing on my way

Ya, for anything I say

And in every verse I stray

I sit down still and watch

Frozen time on the watch

The addiction is so inure

I can't even wish the cure

Close my eyes, it's inside

Outer illusions aside

A snowflake nightmare

It's a plague, it's everywhere

Ghost

I chase this ghost, the essence of this one, called me

As a torturing phenomenon, I watch myself happening

The banality of all the little pieces which make me up

Mocking me all around, in the walls that isolate me

The ground sustaining me, or the air keeping me going

I empathise with the inanimate, because it confronts me

Challenging my complexity with literally solid arguments

By simply passively existing there with me, and just like me

My words are fruit of a rape, once they're fed by thoughts

Which are intruders into my mind, in systematic perversion

And when I delude about this capacity to pursue my desires

They're mere result of my slaveness, sprouting like plagues

Long is the path which I can not even wish enough to quit

I go on without understanding, asking no one: where am I?

But not even this question is genuine, it's all illusion, fake

I don't exist, though I see me, as a silent dismal spectrum

An embarrassing character in this randomly mistaken story

Not for me, or even for the others, but for what is even

More insignificant than I, for a silly meaningless pattern

My blood runs in vain, in pain, insane, a no-winner game

Bleeding

It's not its fault

But its merit

It's its credit and thanks to it

That I'm bleeding now

Though the wound was here already

And had always been aching

It was because of the plaster

Which was placed over carefully

And then ripped out violently

That I'm bleeding so heavily

It's a torrent of blood

That comes out releasing all the dirt

Draining my impurities

I'm bleeding to death

And it's because of the plaster

As I had been constipated

Bearing an inner pressure

That was pushing my organs together

Causing them to malfunction

Killing me slowly

When he pulled out that disgusting crust

Giving birth to a waterfall of pain

That had been hidden inside

Poisoning everything that was still alive

It's all coming out, and it hurts sharp

The bloodletting that will cure me

Accident

I killed him by the good intentions

With which hell is riddled of

I killed him with lovely torturing tools

When smothering him with flowers

I killed him with choking marshmallows

As a poisoning vaccine

Saw him drowning with the water

That I poured to wash his wounds

Drink it son

Drink it son, drink the milk of your mother

Even if it's sour and oily

Drink it all at once in an agonizing, but quick sip

To make it easier to swallow

Suck it all out, even if it hurts me

Drink everything you can

Because I'm running out of strength

I'm going to die soon

And I want to give you everything I have before I go

Because I win more by giving it to you than keeping it for myself

And though feeding you is a consuming challenge

I go to bed exhausted while already

Thinking of the next meal I will provide you

Drink it son, because this milk I minister you

Comes from an effort that I couldn't do for myself

Drink it because I need you to be healthy

And know that when I compare you to the others

It's because you must see you're better than them

And if they attack you, it's not because they don't like you

But because you're a threat

And if they reject you, it is not because you're not good enough

But because they can't stand living under your shadow

They will punish you for your beauty

That you were born condemned by

When even your closest brother, who loved you more than any other

Unconsciously planned to kill you to have what's yours

So that I would feed him instead of you

Hoping to become what you are

Thought now he regrets in shame

Giving his best to make up for it

Drink unconcerned my son

Because the poison you fear

I'd drink it myself if I had to for you

Once I'm too selfish to admit watching you die

When you can get so much further than me

Drink it son, because to save it all for you

I had to deny the compassion of a mere drop

For whom was starving orphan

Drink it all, get up and raise, my baby sun

Because though I acknowledge your pain

I'd have given anything to have had the chances you do

I push you into the river because I know you will swim

As soon as you feel the cold water freezing your ass

Drink it son, and don't be afraid

Because the darkness I show you is to contrast your light

So you can finally see it

Drink my son, get strong and make me proud

So I can feel that all my tears and sweat were worthy

Drink my darling, and make the best out of it

Because this strength I give you

I had to prostitute to gather

Because this is what a caregiver does

As my own mother did for me

And though I should, I can't love her "just" for that

Drink it my baby, and hate me

Because I have to play a harsh role

When the ones you value the most

Come and go whenever they want

Drink and come outside

I've carried you for 8 months

Pushing you out early before the 9th

Not for simple superstition

But because I knew you could handle it

My breastfeeding is smothering

For the unbearable pressure that my faith exerts on you

Forgive me son, when my sin is loving you too much

If I spoil you by never saying no

Once it breaks my heart having to deny you anything

I did the best with the resources I had

And if I had more, I'd give you everything

I'm sorry my son

If I was too young when you came

And I wasn't ready for such bless yet

If what your mother has to offer is less than you deserve

If it's full of flaws and stinks like rotten

But drink it, because I know

That though unpleasant

It's going to make you a man