When I come back home at night I am trying not to let shadows in.
But shadows are fast and agile - when I am flegmatic and melancholic.
I am never sure if it's safe, therefore I am always afraid.
Once shadows, disguised people, killed my friend.
four in the morning, i am listening
sometimes at night i see also other animals
why am i scared
i also could have been a bird
eating eyes of dead fishes
First in their hearts is born the anxiety.
Heavy and suffocating - there is no way of freeing from it.
Then all is becoming less intensive.
Most often they die in the autumn, which is their favourite time of the year.
One morning , when the air is full of foreign smells and disturbing noises they leave their places and never come back.
Usually they just fall asleep cradled by the wind,
tired with the long journey, long sadness, long time spent in darkness.
The dead - usually cautious and suspicious - this time open the arms wide, welcome them with the warm words.
In the empty from now on houses noone will ever settle down a
Mrs. Alice thinks about life by Greyguardian, literature
Literature
Mrs. Alice thinks about life
Get up early
Go for a walk
long and with tenderness
talk to oneself
Harden the feelings -
I like, I don't care
Smile,
nod your head
Do not love
Do not hate
avoid the unrest of a heart
Go to bed early
Before falling asleep you can be a bit ashamed
of being a human
Tight the fists
but not too hard
there should not be left any signs
(hands are needed for more practical matters)
Mourn
but carefully
so the heart not get broken because of the grief
At night
you can dream about Silence
Welcome Death
gratefully.
Mist
At night we were walking throught the mist with a friend.
He wanted to turn back,
and maybe he was right - because the mist was cold, when we
Were
warm.
I often dream that the stranger is eating me from the inside, destroying my organs, breaking my blood.
Leaving me empty.
But today I will be sleeping pacefully.
Nonsense around me tenderly embrace my body, gently kissing my closed eylids.
We are falling asleep together.
I feel so agitated.
Almost as much
as if I was
Loved.
7 of february 2006, tuesday
{...}
And there are still only great houses, soak with moisture
and mustiness.
Bread in plastic bags becomes flabby and rotten.
People are making noises.
Like rats, running under the floor,
Those low murmurs, shouts which maybe
Infest themselfs in basements full of rotten wein
And dark attics, leading to the world,
are a way to nowhere.
No
Hopes come back but they crash in a way
Like trains which no one would want now even
let inside again.
Few of gestures in order to go and receive
All this insufficiency
Of the the common day which lack the dream
Because it is always waken too early
or too late.