If I come home after a certain time
I still stumble automatically
(out of habit)
I still fumble with my key in the lock
I still stagger up the stairs
I still fall asleep in my clothes
I still wonder where you are
There's Time To Be Alone Once I'm DeadI've never been more up for a long distance relationship than I am right now.
I don't know if that's because
it allows me to keep you
at eight hundred thousand arms' lengths,
or whether it's because it rationalizes me
turning down every chance of happiness I find
closer to home,
or whether it's just because
I'm in love with an idea
whose reality I don't have
to deal with until October.
Or whether it's because I actually found someone who's worth waiting for.
Whatever the reasons,
I've never really been one for reality checks,
and I've never been more up for a long distance relationship than I am right now.
Give Me Five YearsGive me five years to travel the world and then I'm yours.
Five years to grow;
get the wanderlust
out of my system
and learn how not
to want to be
My love will be all the better for it,
Give me five years,
and I will try to give you forever.
AliensYou told me once that your passion was for travel,
although you've never left the south of the country you were born in.
But I have a passion for passions
and collecting experiences
in compartments in my head marked 'adventure'.
So let's travel the world, you and me,
and turn two dreams into a living, breathing reality.
Making SenseIt's easy
(when they're not there)
to make somebody into the person you want them to be.
to fill gaps in language
with what you want to hear.
It's very, very difficult to walk away.
Surrounded By Dry LandIt is not mountains or cities that you will find in her heart,
but the deep, dark, depths of the ocean.
Her first language is temptation;
she speaks it fluidly,
but she never can be won
for her heart belongs to the tides.
Many have tried;
but no lover's arms can compete
with the swell
that washes her clean, clean, clean.
Dirt can be rinsed out,
but stains remain
that pull her down
to the only place
where she has ever felt
Thoughts On LeavingThings that I am afraid of:
Talking to people I don't know,
Falling in love.
(Doing all of the above at the same time.)
The Un-TitledThey work in cafes.
They work in bars.
They work in schools
and clean lecture hall floors.
They scrub tables.
They are adding experiences to the internal data bank.
They are quietly subversive.
They are counting change.
if they appear a little vacant,
for their minds are not on
(Though they will serve yours with a smile.)
They work in cafes.
They work in bars.
They are waiting.
-In the endless tranquil forest,
Hidden by the shadows beneath the leaves,
I smile; at peace with the world,
As your corpse smiles back at me...
A Chance?A Chance?
If noone gives you a chance for a long time,
then when you are finally given one,
most of the times, you gonna fail.
And you'll ask for a second one,
but you don't deserve it,
because out there there are many like you
still awaiting the first one.
Don't Ask For A Chance, Demand What You Need.
The End of the WorldI didn't prepare for the end of the world.
I somehow thought that we, reclusive in a hardened bubble-shell, would survive it.
I didn't brace for impact, I didn't even consider it happening to us. Why would I?
I didn't prepare rations, bedding or bunkers.
It didn't occur to me to imagine a post-apocalyptic world in which our love wasn't enough.
I didn't see it coming. It destroyed me nonetheless.
The end of the world doesn't care for your readiness.
Finding HappinessShe's burning up like a suicide note
And upon it's legacy lines
Scribed in crimson ink
Is all her little curios of happiness.
Before misery waddled up,
Knocked over her correction fluid;
Erasing all her joy in a blink.
There's a tape recorder by her side
Skipping a death tone melody;
The silence she hides inside.
Should she stop.
Wipe her days of self-pity and hate
Until she can record a new song
Upbeat to a happy tune of fate.
By her crumpled flat dress,
Glares wild, her knife and her pills,
Though the sight macabre
Only sets her heart ablaze to chills.
Serrated metal to barcode in
A reminder of all her undying pain
And the dark she kisses within.
Numb, she knocks back medicine,
Her bus stop on the highway of life.
Faltering she drops lipstick blade and
To an honest mirror she turns...
What ever happened to
The smiling girl?
What ever happened to
Her innocent future?
Tears fade to a calm stare
Which unravels a soulful grin;
A u-shape of acceptance
To new challenges she mus
lines for rae armantroutFor instance, an old oak grove
And to you, Rae, because what appears
is always the cosmic cascading bodies,
torched and tumbling,
and someone screaming evacuate-
meaning rebuild, re-haunt.
Reading about the experiment,
it became evident-
the traffic of moans,
crowds of shadows standing
in the peripheral,
a sense of expectation and dread.
This is how death comes in poems:
The last campfire in the distance goes dark.
AnimusIf I could
I would vomit my soul
And let it chain itself
To my speech
Like a parasite.
I would let it
Become my puppet master,
And let it sway my arms
I never thought
Instead, I've kept my soul
Trapped in a cage
And watched it
Try to bite
It's way to freedom.
Mia Efkeria?Μια Ευκαιρία;
Αν κανείς δε σου δίνει μια ευκαιρία για πολύ καιρό,
τότε όταν τελικά κάποιος σου δώσει μία,
το πιο πιθανό είναι να αποτύχεις.
Και θα ζητήσεις μια δεύτερη ευκαιρία,
αλλά δεν την αξίζεις,
ForeverYou asked me
how far I would go
for you but you never took
that the earth is round so
I’ll end up
-the stars shine
in those brown eyes
(they're terribly empty, aren't they?)
and i know
that every day
is a struggle
(i'm sorry i can't help you)
have been so
b r o k e n
(and no matter what i do, nothing can fix you)
but the emptiness
in those eyes
seems to fade
(and life flickers in those brown hues)
so i'll climb
every mountain top
(just so you can see all the stars in the universe)