Happinessecrets

Seeing the life differently!


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Boomerang

1C275417-35E1-41FB-8719-1AC2665DE7A5 Photo source: Pinterest

You bite out of my carotid
You’re ripping my flesh out.
The blood spouts into a powerful jet
You’re spitting the meat on the floor
And ruthlessly you bite me again.
Blood jets draw frenetic
Forbearance dissimulated in bravery,
Atrocious restrained pain.
I can hear sizzling of the salt on the open wound,
I can feel the clenching of the muscles,
But I do not feel pain.
You’re ripping my flesh out until you get to the bone.
With my fingernails I draw symbols on the scorched walls,
Witnesses of impotence and shattered dreams.
I’m screeching with my broken nails on the bare brick.
I’m breaking a piece of my hanging flesh
And limping in the dark I’m heading
To the dusty mirror.
What do I see?
You’re biting and I’m biting.
You’re ripping my flesh out and I’m ripping my flesh out.
With the latest powers I broke the mirror,
In the splinters
I see fragments of what would it have been…
Tired spider’s webs hang on my face.
I’m hugging my knees next to the chest
And I’m crooning a song known just by myself.
Where do the arrows poisoned with hatred lead?
You’re biting and I’m biting.
You’re ripping my flesh out and I’m ripping my flesh out.
Like a boomerang.

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The mirror

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Photo source: Pinterest

How can you step over dead bodies
In order to raise yourself
Even in your own eyes?
How can you say that you smile
When you stick your teeth in my carotid?
How can you feed yourself
With the sap of crushed flowers
Stepping on them until exhaustion?
How can you sleep soundly
When you disturb everything around you?
What you’re seeing in the mirror
Every morning, when you’re waking up?


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Guillotine oppressed love

Photo source: Pinterest

Photo source: Pinterest

In indian file
Love walks cuffed by ankle
And hunchbacked by colossal boulders;
With a knife stuck in the eye…
From the wound ooze pus, screams
Fake smiles that could kill in an instance
Guillotine shaped words…
The tears have dried up long ago
They say lack of rain it’s the reason;
There are surrogates of tears
Promoted in television and beautifully packed
Even surrogates of rain, I’ve heard…
Love walks tied at mouth
With another knife stuck in the forehead
From which ooze imperceptibly
Venom dispensed in chinese water drops…
Love walks hungry and doomed;
The plain it’s fertile
But her hands were amputated…

Love is reduced to silence…


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Temporal madness

Photo source: Pinterest

Photo source: Pinterest

Scraps of thoughts
Struggling for power
With sewn mouths
Desperately knock at the door
And the walls crack out of pain…
On the other side of the wall
The hands draw frantically
Ideas and symbols on the shaky floor –
Tangibility of obsession
Reflections in a broken mirror…

 


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The death of words

Picture by Sarlota Bán Photo source: Pinterest

Picture by Sarlota Bán
Photo source: Pinterest

“Face of sand
and hands of sand
and the tongue in my mouth also sand
I cannot say anything to my defense
in this court of sand
with lights of sand
clerks of sand
memories of sand
and someone to turn over the hour clock.
Everything I ever loved has turned to sand
everything I ever did wrong has turned to sand
and judges of sand
are trialling me
and sentencing me to death
on a scaffold of sand”

by Octavian Paler