Void Exposure

Miracles are fate playing mind games on us
Brain parasites feeding on memories
are mistaken prisoners
Taken on a departure lounge;
My past - just a nearby shop window
with no dutyfree hopes
I used to cry only on frozen shoulders
Now I am used to
everyone
knowing how I must feel
how long it will take to be completely healed
It’s like I am having a transparent chest
And didn’t know it.
First times are always betrayed by the seconds,
the thirds don’t even matter in time-
We make daily confessions to the deafening omens,
Those we have sinned against
instigated by pride;
We can embrace those who are already loved
and fail to predict their last hugs!
Surrounded by mirrored walls,
guarded by indifference shields,
chaperoned by tears,
Is it because love is never enough
to synchronize
the pace of a heart?
Or because we are born already blind
and there are no soul mates out there to cure our sight?
I assume we just reinvent ourselves too many times
to the point where we become chameleons
Unrecognizable
Too much brevity, too little bravery
An autobiography of celebrations and commemorations
Like an affection slavery chain
Chewing and swallowing our own words,
their ashes’ ashes - my inner squashed outside
Still missing the recurrent fever
of spring bloom,
the absurdity of my paradoxes,
the breathing rhythmics of a crowded room;
We start a new life every morning.

Relative Recipe

Take a few self-made germs of self-doubt
And throw them into the four laid back corners
of a virtually empty yard while still humming
the same tune with the silent photographs
Hanging above the second-hand sofas,
Wandering off the beaten track of tenses past,
Picturing a new knock on the door,
So fertile, that would feel like
One-in-a-lifetime-journey
out of the too experimental, contradiction laboratory
where seeds are born at the right time.
Each new revelation becomes
One-of-a-kind withdrawal of sun warmth and light
from entire generations of faked nobilities
and their pitiful self-pride.
To me, you are less than my predefined existence,
In a rye field with no catchers and no rain!
A mere hostile climate, with no repeatable weather forecasts
as part of an unexplainable, recorded tragedy,
a borrowed life lesson, lacking character and identity.
Without my permanent phobia-
I am becoming more and more sensitive
To the seasonal crops and rethought samples of abstract art
Like a mirror - allergic to tears
and all the pretend signals at the bottom of old, running streams
underground
Now - a long enough way from the top of my lungs -
I’m drowning myself in nostalgia,
Lost and found in my own frozen loyalty maze,
halfway this rented, almost exclusive lifespan,
and its intricate system of lifeless caves.

It’s all about till death will do us apart.

Sympathetic Disparities

You don’t define me any more than I defy you;
My intuition, like a fare-welling host,
Is clear enough to mirror your grey illusions,
In the center of your black days’ and white nights’ loss
Undergoing deceitful deformations
While pretending that ruins are only for ghosts.
What a pity we can’t stay equal in time!
It’s a shame nobody denies their selfish reveries
anymore
Without second thoughts
Without questioning the inequities
And simply embrace the faith of their siblings
With echoes of cosmic approvals and catastrophic theories.
Two thousand years have passed and still
Some die childless,
Others - simply trade their own lives for a sin
Thinking God could run out of forgiveness.
You might say nobody wants to live in a dream
I know where nobody wants to go,
The truth is the angle of the sun always changes
And similar tragedies become our parents,
Long before we lose our own,
Common history can replace blood relations
Cutting away all umbilical cords
Bending our spines and leaving permanent scars on our souls.
The magnitude of disasters cannot be mitigated
By paying indirect ransoms without any remorse
A shortage of divine penalty
Will put me back on a wrong trajectory
Like a survivor’s reasons, blaming no rivalry.
Having no time for regrets is a nuisance
Since human sacrifice is more persistent than tears,
More convincing than guilt,
Like a déjà vu journey,
Rolling down from your heart for the recently-buried deceased.