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Last nightI packed myselfWith cellophane paperUsed to pack luggageI positioned a “FRAGILE” tag,Not on my toe, noFor I am not dead yet - I tagged it on the centerOf my chestRight above the huddleOf pumping red tissuesI dropped myselfOn your doorComes morning sun You find me thereStand over my bodyGive me a look of aloofnessHold me vigilantlyTake me into your houseGo up the stairsPut me in the atticAnd leave home to start your new dayAll I wanted was a hug.
The Grand Palace,
Bangkok, Thailand.
She craves for attentionEvery inch of her doesEven her menstrual bloodShe thrives under the spotlightSeeks admirers and voyeursLooks deep into their eyesTo find a spark of admiration Validating her existenceShe dances under the waterPlays air-guitar beneath her bedDraws butterflies on the pillows With her bodily dischargesShe observes miseries
Dispassionately
Looks up to people who dream She creates a world of illusionsWhere everything she sees existsAnd what she doesn’t see Is notNever wasAnd will not beExistence is through her eyes only.
From David Spiller's exhibition "Trying to get to heaven before they close the door"
The music was loudAnd I was immersed by the vibesAround me were charactersFrom a novel I just finished readingThe musicians, looking elatedWith every note playedExpressions on their facesLook as if they were orgasmingAnd I think to myselfHow divine, for a person to createA note, a childJust to be ableTo createAround me were characters From a novel I just finished readingFeeble mindsPeople whose past and futureAre nothing but oneSimply because they don’t Prove their existenceIn the realm of the mortalsYou remember how they wereTen years agoAnd meet with them againTwenty years laterAnd they are still the sameAround me were characters From a novel I just finished readingThere is the dreamerWho lives elsewhereYou think she is among usPresentBut her mind is on a different planetScrutinizing humanityFrom high aboveMocking our generationAnd the fast pace it tookTo realizing its carnal goalsTo achieving its useless endsNot stopping for a momentTo absorb notesPlayed by some musiciansWho dedicate their existenceTo the creation of somethingWe all long to imitate
You’re on my mindBut you don’t mindYou’re in my sightYou can barely hideYou’re self absorbedAnd much adoredYou have me caughtWords hung in my throatI can barely breatheBut you never ceaseTo keep me on toesWith all your vowsYou’re a malediction Inflicting affectionIn my naïve soulI can barely drawlYou fascinate meRaise hell in meHang on near You are my gear In my land of darkThrough you I spark
A fool man lives in my headHe comes out in the hour of darknessMaking an imperceptible appearanceIn my night’s first dream The fool man restrains my brain From dozing off He gives way to sleeplessnessThe whole night throughThe fool man is evil He wants to suffocate meHe presses my legs and shouldersHe lifts me up from my bedTakes me on a trip while I scream unheardKnowing that he is in my headThe fool man throws me on the groundEach night He throws me on the groundI wake up dumbfoundedEach nightI know the fool man is transparentI know he is in my headBut he is stronger than I amHe is taking my sleep away
When moments perceived as eternityPass by in fractions of secondsAnd the hours fly by And you are still where you areOn that bedIn that homely roomNext to the same personTalking about the vital and the trivialWorrying about nothing outside the wallsFeeling nothing but the soothe and comfortOf the momentWhen this scene is repeatedIn your mind, the day afterAnd your heart goes on beatingThe same beats of excitement And ecstasyAnd you long for the coming opportunityTo relive a moment away Outside the walls of this lifeOutside its ups and downsIn the same room filled by the imaginary delightAnd the ongoing rummaging of lost dreamsTurning them into bits of realityOnly real inside the barricades of your thoughts Then, and only thenHang on to that heart beatFor it is the small thingsIn the person next to you That make you enjoy each minute spent That are worth dreaming and longing for
There is a noise in my headA scarcely audible noiseIt comes from a place farawayFrom the mouth of a little girlUttering hushed wordsIn the ear of a little boySitting beside herOn a hill, up above the seaShe tells him a storyOf a dream she once hadTo go to a place so farawayWhere she would meet a little boySit beside him on a hill,Up above the seaHow at sunset, her words would Fade, drown with the sunAnd be embraced By the deity of the deep seaWho will make them pigments Coloring grains of sandAnd drop them little by littleIn the daydreams of the girl When eternity had passedAnd the memory of this placeIs barely recalledShe will be in her primeShe will hear a noise in her headA scarcely audible noiseOf words uttered ages agoBy a little girlSitting next to a little boyOn a hill, right above the seaIn a place that is far away But will she remember?