The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink


feel me/read me/follow me

A Crime

The myth of freedom
has torn me to shreds
my heart
cares not
to beat anymore

Like the sheets of
your bed, I lay
myself down for you
but the door
to the room
you refuse
to open

You leave me
like the last tree
in the woods
among the many
where only their
poisoned roots
desolate and

the page from my
has been read
I can feel another’s
I can hear another’s
I can see through
the eyes of the
and they are
smiling at my sadness; sometimes,
even laughing at my

You dare to mock me
but you’re at fault
for messing me up,
crippling me,
disabling my emotions…
You have caused
me to disobey my
instincts and for
that I am
punished in

written: November 11, 2010


Filed under: desire,desire,desire..., life, regarding myself, Uncategorized, , ,

‘Freedom’ by Lawrence Durrell

O freedom which to every man entire
Presents imagined longings to his fire,
To swans the water, bees the honey-cell,
To bats the dark, to lovers loving well,
Only to the wise may you
Restricting and confining be,
All who half-delivered from themselves
Suffer your conspiracy,
Freedom, Freedom, prison of the free.

Filed under: regarding myself, Uncategorized, , ,