there's someone in my head – but it's not me

greying out all

past experiences, all that’s been marked

as spam within the day by day collage

I smile unwillingly, holding the arm of the

imaginary purple maiden;

somewhere inside, torn up and ripped apart

lies the image of the one I used to be, long-haired

and somewhat bearded, colored attire blended in the crowds;

I cannot seem to remember much of the old days

I cannot seem to recall any feelings;

once – we shared love and cigarettes

once – you wore my green T-shirt

once – I was young and free, in a world of my own;

the seven years of lust seem further away every minute,

the seven years of lust seem more and more like a game,

played blissfully by the side of that statue,

by youngsters with no fear at heart.

I miss the old days; I’ve got to grey them out!

she drove me insane for a while

then, suddenly, nothing made sense anymore

she stopped, as if the insane-driving wasn’t enough for her

as if she didn’t get off anymore, on just seeing me squirm

she wouldn’t return my pleasantries, she wouldn’t talk to me

anymore; she would just stand there, frozen half-smile

just gaze into nothing and cold hands encircled by cigarette smoke

I always had the feeling that we shared the 7 years of lust

just when we shared my circle of life; limited to close quarters;

invisible boundaries set by my social skills; never outside,

never within her world; “when I was hungry and it was your world”

said Dylan ages ago;

I recognize nothing of her world anymore; I even get myself lost

in mine, entangled in images of what we used to share at times

eyes closed and hint of her scent covering my imagination

leaving her behind, like a wounded soldier, seems the only

viable option, given the time and the place; no turning back.

no hidden tears or torn out emotions; just emptiness, left out on the pavement

to pick up and fill the remaining holes in my mind;

the delusional lover portrayed days ago – is finally coming to an end;

ignorance – the sweet revenge over the pain

care free environment – the pale blanket over the past months history

I’ll miss the big eyes; I’ll yearn for the long soft hair occasionally brushing against my cheek

I’ll picture that smile turning around from dark corners and lighting up my day

I’ll fall asleep with the soft tone of voice in my head, kitty-like words rolling towards me

lust and illusion – wait your turn; not on friendly grounds anymore; not welcome

anymore

turn around and never

look back

Lustful

reconstruction the image

of whatever’s left

in the bowl of silence

frustrated salesmen

walking around sticks of despair

conquer my sight

rebellion

faith

lust and concrete

I feel the urge

to recreate the woman on my left

to see the bold thumb

caressing the high breast

to touch the purple hair

falling on cold collarbones

come

rebirth of smoke in icy glances

collision of white teeth

in lubricated smiles

can anyone resolve

the fulfillment of joy

in the mid-autumn afternoon

among long legs

and disrespectul care.

September 2000

I sliced her hair

in tiny pieces of yesterday and dreams

I put her big brown eyes on a tray of illusions,

of dust and despair

I slit her thigh uncovering the 7 years of lust

I smiled at her and everything turned blue;

there is no understanding behind the weird messages I send

there is no goal in wanting you to come over

there’s no happy ending to this insane story

there’s just thighs and hands and breasts and smiles

there’s just delusion and madness

there’s just want

and over all of these –

there’s you

slithering away from me

in dark shapes and inked thighs

she dresses in smiles and boredom

she talks to the fish and dogs in the street

she never re-gains confidence in the day-after

and draws pictures of names on the walls

of her dreams

yellow haired and out of the pattern

she speaks words of contempt

lying under-dressed in the warmth of the

wide-handled chair in her living room

I once learned to know her

I once used to think I was close

alone in darkness

the 7 years of lust drop upon me

her smile and the smoke in her eyes

14th is the day

14th is the after-thought driving me mad

no one is clean anymore

no one can dream any longer

happy should be

the maiden inside you

gazing empty over the years that passed

beside you I walk

holding your hand

don’t ever let go

don’t ever look back

torn between illusions and reality

between her lust and the sadness of the years past

I stretch out my hand, trying to touch the end of her shoulder,

there – right where I should have been, yesterday, tomorrow,

every now and again

Sit! Please sit down! Tell me nothing you said was true;

nothing you ever did was real; tell me the shotgun-bang-like thoughts

I came across these past 7 years – were nothing more but mere absence,

lack of yourself within my feeling, my dreams, my self

whereas my calf was touching the grass – nothing of you ever came

in close contact with anything familiar;

grains of pain, all over my mornings –

poured into tall glasses, served cold;

have you ever thought of the day after?

wandering by, wind in your hair, red hint of whiskey-like emotions

passing by everything ever to have been meaningful

I replicate the need to run

falling aside

there’s nothing between those walls

to make me change my mind

there’s nothing closer than your cold touch

within my wild imagination drifting

fire away!

I won’t stand in your

path