There are screams at night but you’re deaf to them
Deaf and dumb and blind
And I will wither away with Spring’s arrival
To mingle with the stars in the dark
There are screams at night but you’re deaf to them
Deaf and dumb and blind
And I will wither away with Spring’s arrival
To mingle with the stars in the dark
Today is my last day
I manage to crawl off the bed that ceased to be coupled almost a decade ago
then land in my still relatively tiny bathroom, though my own physique seems to be shrinking by the second now
I look up at my reflection and I realise the purpose of mirrors
There is a headline,
wrinkled and grey beneath its letters seems to unfold like an over ripe flower without ever having been touched
I shuffle along until I trip over the now almost dry white board marker and I begin the list:
One: I inherited the dark lines of deceit off my mother’s core
Two: I learned how to live with being a liar
Three: I came as a foreign being full of love
Four: I was denied love but I’m still leaving filled with only those four letters
Five: Life was beautiful though the darkness is always the beginning of a new story
Six: I inherited the art
Seven: I will never forget
I rinse myself off and decide that it would be better to leave full of hope
3 months before they expected me I was ready
13 years before I was
The wardrobe whispered the call of majesty
I obeyed my longing eyes
past the dioors and my goodbye suit
I found the two letter phrase barely in disguise and I remembered why
One: I learned how to judge myself better than anyone had ever judged me
Two: It wasn’t always sunny
Three: How to fake the smile through heartache
Four: How to cause the same
Five: My clothes are cheap
Six: I am unworthy
Seven: I knew this each time we made eye contact… after all; we are self proclaimed judges
So neat, tidy and fresh I walk towards the lonely seat and the non functional tv
and on the top right hand corner of the screen
A phrase in white paint screams out at me
One: My skin colour murdered my first love
Two: I inherited the skill of not caring much for those attributes
Three: My father Died of a broken heart
Four: You saved mine
Five: Our life was puzzled together by vibes and muted sentences
Six: In the end, my quirks were irrelevant and your were my indica
Seven: I fell eternally asleep with the very thoughts that days and nights before had always haunted me.
Palm on palm now
My eye lids find their space
No tears left in me
My heritage day is eternal
and I only grew to know that the moment I looked into you!
She is learning how to be grateful.
The steps are small, barely noticeable as the world calls and keeps on… There is not much to protest against, though the monsters in her head growl in a constant chorus of unfortunate beginnings and endings.
Nothing ever really ends where there are memories involved, and doubt is a frozen statue, alive enough to keep haunting her and misleading her… it wants to be a pillar and all she really wants is for it to disappear.
It is cold.
Her teeth speak their own unknown language as the piercing breaths let out their steam and she knows she is alive and alove. Perhaps alove is the problem, the threatening to word alove out her mind and into the hearing range of that other…she is so alove it hurts, it wobbles her walls and her frozen castle begins to melt, but it is cold…
She smiles unintentionally. There is a face, there are hands and lips and traces of traced bodies in subtle nights without beginnings and without reservations… or were there reservations? She wears a scarf
It is cold.
So alive and alove she waits… she anticipates the return of her strength which is barely a word away. She imagines being sucked into that warm embrace and the doubt disappears. Her breath becomes natural and it lightens up like the darkness in her eyes as it begins to fill up with light.
She knows that this is it, that this is visible for the first time and once a problem is shown, it is also known, thus becoming an advisor rather than a nightmare.
It begins to change her perspective and she begins to understand… that warmth is not only a touch… it is a letter, it is a name and comforting kiss… It is hearing how much you’ve been missed and out of nowhere – a sun appears; though
It is still cold.
I.G. DIDOVA 07/03/2012 12:01PM
GENTLING A WILDCAT (AGAIN)
My head hurts
I am irritable, sweaty and jittery.
I have been stuck on the same sentence for what seems like a week, but still no word fits…
Giving my tired, short-haired head a rest on the palm of my hand, glancing at the tiny arrangement beneath my window; the continuation to the problematic phrase sneaks up on me in the form of a floating sapphire while the little blue box with its lid opened on the ‘Tuesday’ section reminds me that I am safe from hallucinations as the pill had been consumed shortly after dinner. Instinctively my head returns to its previous position in order to confirm the floating gem between the branches…
I give out a nanus-sized giggle as the single stone seems to have undergone a sort of transfiguration; it is now accompanied by what seems to be its twin and as a pair they have been pasted onto a leopard patterned body.
My world becomes a vortex of memories projected through the eyes of a cat whilst the last sound before the thriller is my voice repeating the phrase over and over… until the world is calm again and the filigrees of memories take the lead, like a mirage caused by the sudden dehydration in my mouth.
Prelude, is the word best used to describe the moment when she bursts into my flat furious… both of us knowing only one way to salvage the situation.
I can see it in her eyes.
The light of my living room arrogantly ridiculed the one in her sapphires. So much so that I am scared off and in doubt my lips know only to twist and coil in to a smile…that smile… her… smile.
This act in itself is something like a language that only the hunter and the hunted understand. Similar to a contract, signed, sealed and guaranteeing a collapse of murderous intentions, only to transform them into bittersweet gasps and insatiable shadows, switching position; momentarily being the prey and in a split second, rising again to feast on an expecting, welcoming lamb.
Our eyes meet, lock, and recognise each other realizing that the storm has finally reached its peak.
The following moments are to be a musical of thundering, feminine grunts, accompanied by an inconsistent back ground of whispers and gentle clawing soothed by a salty rain which magically seeps out from our pores; still fully clothed yet naked… those are the benefits of knowing a body that is not your own as well as Da Vinci knew the Mona Lisa.
These fragrances encompass the roots of our desire, as my half-naked anatomy stretches to an eerie length in order to turn bright, electric sparks into a grey-kitten dark; welcoming the rain with the moist odour of nibbling pain gentled by the fluffy fur of the moon-lit carpet where lion and lamb become glutinous due to the excess amount of yearning flesh on craving body. My icy fingertips run around her bare hip in torturous spirals, claiming ignorance with every brush against the pink; that same place they so intently dismiss.
“Ssssss” These are stolen moments.
Her snake-resembling movement is violently clawed to a halt with a clear nail grip on stuttering thighs and mischievous hips then pulled just close enough as if in surrender only to painfully be pushed away again.
I speak out through a cork tongue, “I was under the impression that we’re waiting for the rain.”
At that I approach with my waist between her impatient legs, providing a false hope of granting her antidote to this silent, overwhelming hysteria.
“Screw the rain!”
My hungry lips travel south with a continuous kiss, hurrying past a perfect chest, not paying much attention to all the rest either, and in god-like synchronization the rain drops mercifully begin to fall to the rhythm of those inspired by the fleshy sensation between our bodies; creating the first verse before our chorus: drip… drip… drip!
From walls to wind are dancing feet moving ever forward while her skin presently owns my embrace and me.
I walk behind her almost in a waltz; my palms covering her eyes, nipples cheeky and excited by the static created when skin rubs on skin;
this grass is dampened by the slow drizzles of rain and as our feet connect to the green beneath them the tickle prepares us of the flock of shower drops, so the gentle wind gives in and gradually stops.
My grip loosens and thus my hands are left to unnerve every curve, soft mindful and cautious as they leap in a water-like manner, where a downward current is magnetic.
My breathing becomes inconsistent, hers on the other hand is heavy and deep, almost as deep as my fingertips dryly moistening, diving in then out… in and out… in circular motions.
A moment is all it takes for gravity to wrap us in a blanket of soil, leaves, my lips on her collar bone… hands wandering, alone… just then; it is my virtue that she takes while in shaking intervals our souls levitate… like a pair of savage lionesses in an excruciatingly pleasurable brawl.
The moonlight pierces through the trees and falls like a spotlight onto the mistress, excluding me from the white even as my body moves in and out of the ray’s radius. Our movements are urgent now, they roam but fail to tease; I enter her as she enters me and then the rain speeds up in accordance, heart beating so fast that I can feel it pulsating in my throat.
With my lips to her ear I utter in a questioning whisper’
“What are you?”
“I am Katt’s mosquito bite…”
Her fingers slide out; they begin to impress with a mind-map precision the surface of my tenderness.
“Effervescent tickles and biting itches… if you rub me you’ll only make it worse, leave me wanting more”
I follow suit, waking a petite thrust before she continues the monologue in her spotlight.
“Bursts of pleasure are delighted in, only when you scratch the pinnacle of my swelling… I hide and reside erect in between your porous dwelling.”
My teeth sink in as I struggle to keep my trembling hand in place and moving.
“Hard to resist me isn’t it? Come on give it a little rub… but be careful you might want to rub me again, and again, and again.
My hand exits… leaving my jaw, lips and tongue in a free range of opportunity as they begin to kiss the inside of her thigh, still I listen careful not to miss so much as a whimper.
“I am Katt’s mosquito bite… that unsubtle tickling itch… scratch me a little bit…”
Taste buds can no longer resist the beautiful taste they know will be, and so they move in with that special kiss.
“Give it a little lick… Right… there. See how that feels. Kind of makes you wanna purr… making little silly sounds as you indulge your salivatory senses with my ambrosia.”
The tireless muscle residing in my mouth now vigorously inspects this tantalizing territory as it enters… then exits… then enters…
Her nails grip on to me as she passionately pulls down on my skin in an almost branding sort of manner.
“Making my pink cheeks swell up leaving you with red blemished racing down the spine of your arched torso”
She wipes a drop of blood and licks it off.
Irrevocably aroused, I feel the approaching burst and her raging ‘mosquito bite’ meekly agrees with me.
Lifting my chin out of harm’s way, she throws herself into my chest (teeth-first)… glides into me and continues the paired journey to our peak while her fingers circulate and pulsate… her mouth sucking on to me thirsting blood.
“I am drunk your sap and so must you suck mine…”
Synchronized yet again we race towards that sacred… sacred… sacred…
“Vamp of a ten sashays turns to vampire… no scars but trails of little delights devoured.”
I can’t concentrate, I struggle to listen, my back arches, I feel the first wave of glazing delight…
“That sweet, that bEttersweet taste of sin, sensual energy…”
I own her trembling breath as we simultaneously cry out, and with the well awaited kiss, confirm the wondrous explosion of pants, moans and rain escaping now through the core of our physical being, boisterous and ready for the creeping bliss.
“You want to touch me again, don’t you?”
Exhausted and breathless we lay under the shelter of a tree. The landscape and scenery now just a contrast… steam and rain, dark and light… and then the moonlight.
She holds on to me as my lips press on to her forehead. I smell a tear roll down the side of her face as she looks at me, unwilling to utter a word. I could sense the real storm ahead so I did not dare to ask.
This was a moment not meant to be spoiled by thoughts and questions about what lay ahead in the morning. I whispered the usual sweet dreams in her ear. We were like bats worshipping one another…
And like bats, with the sunrise we were no more.
My heart threatens to tear out of my chest while I run down the stairs and towards the little place beneath my window, the sound of milk splashing on the inside of the small bottle as I skip past two steps, then three, then four.
A sharp left… then a right… then another right… now slowly… carefully.
The cat looks at me, cautious, analysing.
I take two slow steps forward, this bringing me close enough to place the bowl of milk just next to her front paws.
She seems confused, then does a catish grin in ridicule while proudly showing off her fangs and tongue…
“Black foot? Aha! So you’re a wild one. I have someone you might want to meet.”
She tilts her head still grinning at me and then the unexpected… she lays her paws at my feat.
I scoop her up and hold her to my chest… just then… a rain drop.
A small tear wells up in my eye as I begin to walk on back to my apartment.
“Well she isn’t here now Katt, but she will come back! I have some meat up there, bet you must be starving.
My palm gentles the top of her head
Her forehead had suddenly become the home of a trillion sweat droplets
The scent of a lost race against emotion was on her like a stale ashtray left in the middle of a tiny room for decades
perhaps the ashes of that which can never be repeated was exactly that
and the thoughts; no matter how consistent could not
clear out the depths of the buds; the heart that beats without feeling
the eyes that see without seeing
the sound of music without reaction
the dripping of sacred juices without an allure of passion
That phrase will never be repeated
that home will never be rebuilt
skin, fingers,flowers and hair
are the forefathers of a numb heir
to an empty castle
with naught but walls, bars, creatures, dragons and demons
the wolf alive in me alone will continue
oh wolves love once only
and… baby..oh by the way;
Wish I had a voice
Wish I could sing these thoughts to you
Maybe then the netted fingertips of poetry could captivate
This little bird I refuse to cage up
Wish there was a choice
Wish I didn’t need to wish to feel
To know how to let words crawl past the outskirts of my lips
Wish I knew what you are thinking
Wish I knew I feature in some of that
Does my face flash in your dreams for a second at least?
Sometimes I want to
Run, run, run
Away from you
Or is it from myself?
Would you hand me a
Cocked gun until we are stunned, calmed…done?
Wish I had a voice
Wish I could whisper
Wish I could touch
To not need to ever wish again
Look at the surface of my palm before you
Carefully lift the metal
Don’t touch me for your sake
My eyes will pretend not to scream out for you to just
Connect your warmth with mine
There are days when I look around and see nothing
Nothing but the lonely gaps between our plain white blinds
The dust on the office drawers
The empty seat right next to me
Sometimes I drift away and wonder about you
I wonder what you’re thinking
What face are you wearing today?
Is it mine?
The one that melts away my towers and bars
Do you smile as you indulge in a stolen cup of coffee
In the midst of the race to finish off what you started
Do you remember me?
Standing behind you
Bathing you in me with my breath and whisper
Do you remember us
Exchanging theories on whispers
The cuddles of the dark?
It takes only a moment
One thought preceding hundreds
That of your automatic smile
When sleepy lips contact your cheek
Erases wonders, doubt, the delayed sulk
It reminds me of the scent
The beauty of the moment
When I first heard the song you sang to me
the chords that brought me back to life, safety
back to sanity
The only way to love anything
Is to realize that it may be lost
There are blissful cradles
In the spaces that fill the
Gap between our beings
In those instances when fiction becomes reality
It is instinctive
The need to calm a volcano with our
There are galaxies within beings
Stars protruding in a three D sort of way
Contribute to the glamour
The mask we apply in the sunlight
Only to welcome the moon in its removal
Only simplicity brings peace in the vast abyss
Seek not to build a galaxy
Do you not know there is comfort where there are space ships?
I miss you.
It’s been a while and I know it’s my fault mainly
I really should write to you more often
You speak to me in a way that no one else knows
Like the chirping of the bird outside my window while my stone heart begins to waken
And it is pain at first
But then a spark of life happens in my wolfy veins
That is barely noticeable enough at first
Then day after day you whisper breezes of wind in return of the scorching memories and fears…
Years have passed since I truly felt like a weaver of words;
I knew I died then
Perhaps with you – is it beautiful to finally be a part of everything again?
Do you miss her?
Whoever she was…
I think your love for her inspired me so that I could not help but fall in love with that planet; a woman!
The galaxies of female curves I have seen
Left me broken dead and empty.
I am much better now though
I’m learning to forgive
To let go of the things I cannot change
I think I’m learning how to live.
Are you proud of me?
I still feel like your little girl.
I have written so much just tonight only to avoid telling you for the first and only time : I am hurt
Hurt but still breathing
Crippled but healing
With every cell in me that yearns to be
Tomorrow I will continue my quest and I will fail a little less at disproving the impossible
And fail a little less again the following day
Until impossible is nothing
Because I think not even you believed in what you chased
Not even you could dream that big
Oh but you insisted that I learn
And so I did
I dream a little less these days
I focus on success
Not in material value though I’m sorry; I’m quite alright with just being me
But I succeed a little more each day
I manage to keep me complete.
I have started learning how to be brave
Yes dad, she’s teaching me.
That nothing is ever really worth it unless it hurts a little at least!