Submissions by skycladatmidnight

When I was young,
my father used to bring home a newspaper
that we read almost in the dark as if
we were committing the worst crime
in the world. I loved the idea of being
a conscious criminal. Our hearts trembling,
our eyes assaulting each word indecently.
We - accomplices of a perfect crime.
-It was freedom-
Not the freedom we could dream
we would possibly have some day.
But the freedom of those who
slept like kings and got up like fools
on April 1st, 1964.
I remember how free we all were
behind the curtains, in the dusk
when...

Those eyes behind the mirror
are like cameras watching me,
spying my vulnerability and isolation.


I told them I am well.
Those voices don't call my name anymore
but they never listen to me.
I have been getting fat and fat each day.
They say I can't improve:
my behaviour is not acceptable.
(what is acceptable anyway?)


I wish I had other options
besides being knocked out all the time,
Can't control my mind.
They said there is a monster lurking
at the bottom of it.


I was imposed a discrediting...

I bear you upon back,
bringing me mud
to clad my heart
as I search for some bread
to feed my anxiety,
to soothe my anguish
like a mad woman in the attic.

You bite me and blow me,
looking at me with eyes
squeezed by doubts:
I need this vague blackness
in your blue eyes.
I need the moon forever hungry
or asleep on your lap.

You have two faces
and both hide my Venus and your Mars
naked and abandoned
when our words rise and fight
for what you can't give me today.
(I bow to you.Why do I bow to you?)
...

I wore your lovely white skin.
(Simple, strong and sweet)
Your body, your absolute body weighing
over my untamed conscience,
my unbearable lightness soothing the walls,
licking the naked me; the (fe)male loosing her/himself,
listening (I love listening to you), I love to make you
suffer and want more and more and more till
you evaporate in a cloud of dark roses:
I am all things. Who do you see when
I am legs, arms, breasts, sweat, water,
past, present and future?
Yes, I see...I see your wonder; my exclusive wonder,
your poetic...