Thursday, May 29, 2008

i can't write what i need to write
in fear of repeating myself

history
they say
is a cycle repeating itself
over and over again
including my own

my
internal
peace
is
a
never
ending
quest
perhaps
more
dubious than
a pot of gold at the
end of a rainbow

this one however
is guarded by my inner daemons

and better yet
in this particular dream
"there is no place like home"
takes you to a whorehouse
in ankara

as a last resort
somebody screams

"i
am a
rat in
a cage
and
i
am
not
fond
of
spinning
cycles"

fall curtain
roll credits
the end

Flashback: July 4, 2001

look! it is the colors of sadness
dripping lusciously over my fingers
you so fearfully desire

and i remember you stealing a line
from a song you've heard saying
'happiness has an end
but sadness is endless'

a dark shadow passes over your eyes
a deploring look
with a most electrifying touch
over your shoulders, drops on the
floor so very effortlessly that
even my tired affectionless decorum
shatters into pieces
right there

don't speak of love but obsession
not of caring but needing
i'd desperately want to say
trying to catch that look

no, no you say
making our time growing slower
as you utter each 'no'
no. no.. no...
i feel each street-light pierces
the darkness through my skin
cars go by
people shout
and each 'no' hammers a feeling
of a desperate loss

as i join the ranks of poets fallen
for lost causes
my lips start humming hymns
with my fingers still wet from
your endless sadness