And now that it’s over, completely over, I don’t know what to feel anymore. At first, it was relief. Second, regret. Then followed by anger and pain, it left an emptiness in me behind. What do you do when the longing and wishing and hoping is gone? What do you hold onto? What truths do you believe in?
All these emotions that I felt for you, because of you, towards you, and spite you, are now lingering on a surface I cannot see. Because you don’t evoke them anymore. So what happens to them - those emotions? Do they fade? Or just simply get transferred to a different subject?
My head hurts. I can breathe in and feel the emptiness in my heart beating against my chest case.
I used to love you, love you, and now that’s over. So was that love a lie, an imagined, made up truth? Do we love, fall in love? Or is it all an object of our imagination and are we just a little confused?
16.3.11
LASTGLASS
“Last glass goes to you,” I say as I look at you from across the table. Letters on your cover scream an origin, a past history, I do not know, nor care about. A cup of vodka begs, pleads, for me to drink it. I do not.
I pick you up, open you up, light you up. And I inhale. Burning intoxication hits my lungs. I inhale deeper.
The fingers in between which I hold you near me for another drag tremble, too steadily for anyone to notice, too heavily for me to ignore. I exhale, and as my mind tells my body to sigh down and do so, the nicotine rush goes up, up, up, to my head.
I close my eyes and let it hit me, and try to focus on my hand again, by taking that second drag, inhaling, and ashing in the cup in front of me, all in the slowest motion you can possibly imagine.
My first cigarette in ten hours and thirty-seven minutes. I haven’t been counting.
My last glass of vodka. Not that I’m counting.
I pick you up, open you up, light you up. And I inhale. Burning intoxication hits my lungs. I inhale deeper.
The fingers in between which I hold you near me for another drag tremble, too steadily for anyone to notice, too heavily for me to ignore. I exhale, and as my mind tells my body to sigh down and do so, the nicotine rush goes up, up, up, to my head.
I close my eyes and let it hit me, and try to focus on my hand again, by taking that second drag, inhaling, and ashing in the cup in front of me, all in the slowest motion you can possibly imagine.
My first cigarette in ten hours and thirty-seven minutes. I haven’t been counting.
My last glass of vodka. Not that I’m counting.
14.3.11
10.3.11
A High Class Werewolf
To Daniel. Because the verb ‘hopen’ in Dutch means ‘to hope’.
A High Class Werewolf -
Withstanding, loyal, and always right there
To let lost souls into his Fortress of Caring,
Or maybe just me, into his throne that we would share.
Maybe I just wanted to talk,
But I don’t remember.
Maybe I just wanted hot, steamy sex,
After a long and cold December.
As you said, the table laughed at your scraped knees,
Just the way we laughed at the ridicule of that fleeting procrastinated night.
But even though most would,
You never let me out of sight.
You don’t think I’m beautiful enough,
But that’s fine -
Because for the slightest glimpse of a moment,
You were mine -
And I am yours.
Falling asleep in your arms, or right next to you,
Made the nightmares, the screaming pain, go away.
But now I’m home, and maybe this is where I belong;
Maybe this is the price I have to pay.
The price of feeling too much.
The price of wanting too much.
The price of needing too much.
Being left alone, naked, stumbling in the dark, as such
Price I cannot pay.
And so I pray
That one day we’ll meet again,
And I can’t remember what I saw.
That one day I’ll look at you,
And the feelings won’t be as raw.
Because, boy, it’s beautiful when you smile
And it’s beautiful when you say, “Oh, I don’t know.”
Because, God, don’t we all have those times when we don’t?
But you’re the only one for whom I don’t have to put up a show.
So grab a sharpie,
And take another shot.
Take another little pill,
Especially if it’s all your imagination’s got.
Intoxicated words are sober thoughts,
As many people may believe.
But after all is said and done,
That’s no longer how I perceive.
A High Class Werewolf -
Withstanding, loyal, and always right there
To let lost souls into his Fortress of Caring,
Or maybe just me, into his throne that we would share.
Maybe I just wanted to talk,
But I don’t remember.
Maybe I just wanted hot, steamy sex,
After a long and cold December.
As you said, the table laughed at your scraped knees,
Just the way we laughed at the ridicule of that fleeting procrastinated night.
But even though most would,
You never let me out of sight.
You don’t think I’m beautiful enough,
But that’s fine -
Because for the slightest glimpse of a moment,
You were mine -
And I am yours.
Falling asleep in your arms, or right next to you,
Made the nightmares, the screaming pain, go away.
But now I’m home, and maybe this is where I belong;
Maybe this is the price I have to pay.
The price of feeling too much.
The price of wanting too much.
The price of needing too much.
Being left alone, naked, stumbling in the dark, as such
Price I cannot pay.
And so I pray
That one day we’ll meet again,
And I can’t remember what I saw.
That one day I’ll look at you,
And the feelings won’t be as raw.
Because, boy, it’s beautiful when you smile
And it’s beautiful when you say, “Oh, I don’t know.”
Because, God, don’t we all have those times when we don’t?
But you’re the only one for whom I don’t have to put up a show.
So grab a sharpie,
And take another shot.
Take another little pill,
Especially if it’s all your imagination’s got.
Intoxicated words are sober thoughts,
As many people may believe.
But after all is said and done,
That’s no longer how I perceive.
IM.
Because you’re the rock my waves crash upon
Branded by Past,
Crafted by Personality;
Worlds apart,
Put in the same room.
Heels versus snake bites,
Impulse versus logic;
Worlds apart;
Yet hearts intertwined.
I’ve heard it said,
‘Best friends 24/7 brings the Devil to Heaven;’
But we, we are not friends, we are roommates,
We, we are not just roommates, we are Friends.
Not the one, nor the other,
We, we are both - at the same time;
Bringing a non-existent god to life,
Bringing our God into our Hell.
Laughing Jinxing,
Consoling Crying;
Both praying to our God in our Hell,
For tomorrow to come soon and bring clean toilet paper.
Branded by Past,
Crafted by what-yet-to-Come;
Worlds apart,
Put in the same room again.
Flip-flops during winter,
Versus unused bed sheets;
Worlds apart,
Yet our Hearts intertwined.
Branded by Past,
Crafted by Personality;
Worlds apart,
Put in the same room.
Heels versus snake bites,
Impulse versus logic;
Worlds apart;
Yet hearts intertwined.
I’ve heard it said,
‘Best friends 24/7 brings the Devil to Heaven;’
But we, we are not friends, we are roommates,
We, we are not just roommates, we are Friends.
Not the one, nor the other,
We, we are both - at the same time;
Bringing a non-existent god to life,
Bringing our God into our Hell.
Laughing Jinxing,
Consoling Crying;
Both praying to our God in our Hell,
For tomorrow to come soon and bring clean toilet paper.
Branded by Past,
Crafted by what-yet-to-Come;
Worlds apart,
Put in the same room again.
Flip-flops during winter,
Versus unused bed sheets;
Worlds apart,
Yet our Hearts intertwined.
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