Theory of comfort

25^th March 2013

#9 Theory of comfort

Takes time to swallow,
skin sheds like it was supposed to,
humble in our own way
its useless to paint my walls.

If you find me lost – I always was
and remember this
my hands are often moist,
my eyes often tender,
it’s just another way of telling you
I can’t die without you.

In case you switch my blades,
let us revolve around the main plot,
the extent of this theory
that everything can be substituted
but your comfort.

I had spoken

22^nd March 2013

#8 I had spoken

Recurring thoughts and
pebbles,
lying here and often there,
cross my stars and
fail
to recognize,
ships of my past
almost perfect,
I had spoken.
When?
We really don’t
remember but
how does it change
the colour of my apple?
Another bite,
my face now turns towards me,
I crawl back to my
corner,
waiting for my mouth
to swallow the entire darkness.

Adding squares

10^th March 2013

#7 Adding squares

Spell my motions correctly
as if they were your own.
Cans of wasted dreams all over
my feet, I blew it all up,
it was an ordinary homecoming,
just another lover’s heart
breathing moisture and heavy lungs.

The squares that added up
to the floor, always extending
beyond the vertebra of a sleeping dog,
cans of wasted feelings,
spilling out of the senses,
incapable of any movement whatsoever.