I hope you're learning to listen
And I hope you're learning to stay
And I hope you find what you're missing
And I hope that you're making your way
I'm a headcase if I don't keep moving
And my head hurts if I don't sit still
It's an itch that I'll never stop scratching
It's a hole that I'll never quite fill

"There’s this condition called the rapture of the deep. It’s when a deep-sea diver spends too much time at the bottom of the ocean and cannot tell which way is up. You have always been asleep in a different bed in the same room. Kentucky felt like impossible nostalgia. And I saw you looking back.

That’s it, I remember, I saw you looking back because I was looking forward. And my jaw was a clenched fist I could not throw because the truth hurts loudest when you toss it around and the echo, the echo is what drives girls like me mad with remembering."

Sabrina Benaim - "How to Unfold a Memory"

aperol afterglow

“But I must admit I miss you terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby.”

― Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

you kept your promise and I kept mine

if you ever wanted to know what I meant by that it would be this

I walk into your arms with independence,
cocaine strips grinning widely.
we sleep together, you ask me if I ever dream.

your blood runs around with risks uncalculated,
you open the door and say it was inevitable.
push all the buttons.

I have a triangle where your fingers should be,
honestly, I love the thrill.
enjoy the ride you asked for.

you're not picking up - 
you still don't get it, do you

the hunter's bullet lodges in my cracked ribs,
I can make it, I think, but barely.
you say I should smile more.

you're somewhere in this town, falling asleep,
not having this dream.
that's fine, that's fine, that's fine.

I don't know whose hands I feel around me,
but I changed my sheets to silk.
I want it to be quiet, no noise.

st. Petersburg in glitter

 

 
looking for curves in the flatline of a heartbeat,
forgetting it should be made out of corners.

my Superman, my Superman,
you were not supposed to be real.
in this part you did not lie.

in case you're wondering,
I would have. this is my superpower.

rum cola

 

See, here's my problem -
I cannot forgive myself for not remembering your face well enough to write about it,
even though I couldn't take my eyes off you for one second.

I've known for a while by now,
before I was a drunk girl in red lingerie under your covers.

They say a year changes a lot, but this feeling is familiar.

not this time, no

“And it isn't that I'm so unhappy I don't want to live anymore. That's not what it feels like. It feels more like I'm tired and bored and the party's gone on too long and I want to go home.” 

― Nick Hornby, A Long Way Down

But see, I cannot leave the party.
They are in my apartment and drinking my alcohol and it is my fault because I let them in - I cannot leave the party because this is my home. This is my bed. This is where my heart should not feel this way but I take the blame because I opened the door.

So I stay and watch and let the confetti fall all over me.
It's a wasp's nest.

“I had a dream about you last night. We watched pornography together, but purely for the storyline.”

― Michael Summers, I Had a Dream About You

lust has no mercy

there you are, see, not going

/---/

terrified to core
I'll throw it out
again

so enjoy me now
for I'll be gone
again

the things you never learn from watching secretary porn

the meeting room is out of water bottles, my heels clicking, your jaw clenching,
supple, luscious,
will this be all, Sir

attach a scanned copy with your number on it through the jars of raw honey,
heavy, sticky,
I lick my fingers clean

I stripped myself down and then I didn't 

very well then, good morning to the man who likes to go back on his words,
loyal, married,
never your intention

tell me more about the sanctity of a promised word while you picture my bones,
naked, delicious,
say my name, say it

it was all about sex and then it wasn't

the door slams closed behind me and I'm about to leave this place for good
too proud, finished,
you forge a lovely intimacy

see my shirt unbuttoned as you kiss your wife's forehead goodnight
dirty, damaged,
dream of Trussardi Donna

it was just a good story and then I met you

“Certain kinds of knowledge rob people of their sleep.”

- Haruki Murakami

remain in my hands and smile

Hey beauty supreme

Yeah you were right about me
Can I get myself out from underneath this guilt that will crush me
And in the choir I saw a sad messiah
He was bored and tired of my laments
Said I died for you one time, but never again

Well I love you so much
But do me a favour baby, don't reply
Because I can dish it out, but I can't take it

You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway

do come here, gentleman, touch how soft their fleece is

which of these you take home is up yours to decide

cut her open and pick out your favourite pieces

cash or card; here the tax is already applied

in a field of raw meat it’s a buyer’s market

and you’ve been looking around for something new

you came in with a knife and I was your target

in a shape of a heart I was looking at you

cravings come in a wave for a bite that’s blood fresh

let me finish my job so you could do your crimes

even though I’m aware you’re not worthy of my flesh

for your teeth on my bones I’d die a hundred times

witness my liquid red dripping through your fingers

grab a feel of my skin while it is still warm

in the back of your head there’s a thought that lingers

beneath you lies something you have no right to harm

do come here, little lamb, come here to the slaughter

sweet music to my ears is your dying sound

you’re a butcher’s son, I am someone’s daughter

a purchase deal where justice cannot be found

We were emergencies

We can stick anything into the fog
and make it look like a ghost.
But tonight,
let's not become tragedies.
We are not funeral homes
with propane tanks in our windows,
lookin' like cemeteries.
Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
Let go.

Tonight,
let's turn our silly wrists so far backwards
the razor blades in our pencil tips
can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
Step into this
with your airplane parts.
Move forward,
And repeat after me with your heart:

"I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself."

Make love to me
like you know I am better
than the worst thing I ever did.
Go slow.
I’m new to this.
But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
without jumping.
I have realized

that the moon
did not have to be full for us to love it,
that we are not tragedies
stranded here beneath it,
that if my heart
really broke
every time we fell from love,
I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.

But hearts don’t break,
y’all,
they bruise and get better.
We were never tragedies.
We were emergencies.
You call 9–1–1.
Tell them I’m having a fantastic time.

- Buddy Wakefield

pretty girls don't know the things that I know

"I won’t love you any less in December. 
I think my heart just wasn’t meant for the cold."

мой прекрасный город -
я помню тебя более тёмным, чем сама темнота; как растворялись твои огни и как я полусонная проходила по твоим улицам, которые ты создал, чтобы спрятать в них таинственных и странных прохожих. дул холодный ветер и я была в оцепенении - я была потрясена красотой неба, которого я не видела; глубиной голосов, которых я не слышала; нежностью прикосновений, которых я не чувствовала.

моя таинственная ночь -
своим тёмным дыханием ты сумела изменить амплитуду моих чувств, мыслей, всей моей жизни. протянув прозрачную руку , ты изменила направление моего заблудшего пути на правильный, а затем затянула обратно в неведение. твоя магия, твоё мерцание, всё неземное, что таилось в тебе - ничто не исчезнет из моей памяти.

мой неповторимый мальчик -
я помню тебя больше, чем мне того бы хотелось; твои глаза полны страсти, твой шёпот, прерывающийся от желания, сводит с ума. я помню всё.
я влюбилась в тебя с первого взгляда - но совсем не так, как это происходит в романах; не так как обычно принято у людей. поскольку ты был самым странным существом из всех, встречавшихся мне ранее, моя любовь к тебе была такой же странной.
порой я думаю, были ли твои чувства такими же.

мой прекрасный город, моя таинственная ночь, мой неповторимый мальчик.

этот мальчик в эту ночь в этом городе забрёл в мой сон и я снова просыпаюсь. сердце колотится.
я прикрываю тебя, когда мы, подобно ворам, убегаем от действительности; когда мы достигаем своих самых опасных мечтаний, я храню тебя в этом призрачном рае.
притяжение между чувствами таких обманщиков, как мы, вспыхивает подобно бензину и меня ничуть не тревожит, если всё вокруг сгорит дотла, потому что предел мечтаний - умереть, устремив взгляд в отблески пламени, которые отражаются в твоих зрачках.
если ты хочешь меня, просто скажи - потому что я хочу тебя тоже.
оставь свои страхи только на сегодня -
это нужно тебе, это нужно мне, мы оба знаем, что это единственный способ потерять окружающий нас мир.

я слишком устала, чтобы бороться с твоим взглядом;
позволь мне всего секунду отдохнуть, чтобы я снова могла дышать; прислони голову к моему плечу и наберись сил, чтобы затем мы вдохнули жизнь в лёгкие этой ночи. твой силуэт пронзительно ярок, свет живёт в твоём лице под лучами Млечного Пути.

близко, ближе, совсем рядом, я сумасшедшая и ты смеёшься, потому что ты знаешь.
твоё дыхание окружает меня, никто не догадается, нас не найдут.
не имеет значения где,
не имеет значения когда -
ты ни с кем не сравним, мой таинственный друг.