Storm

I see it, but I can’t stop it. How many times have people said they are undetectable and safe to sleep with? Well, Storm believed them. Because Storm is a believer who easily falls in lust and trust. Now, he is falling apart. And there is nothing I can do.
And so I watch him from afar as he gets weaker, physically and mentally. I want him to go out and live. Savour every second he has left. But he stays hidden from the world, believing that no one will feel his loss. If I could only make him see how wrong he is. So wrong. He’s obsessed with films about his condition. The normal heart. It’s my party. Philadelphia. An early frost. Longtime companion. Those films play on repeat, adding to his personal hell. It’s like punishment. But maybe I am wrong and every tear he cries for the characters on the screen is cleansing? How can I pretend to know how he feels when I don’t? And he doesn’t talk. He locked himself away in a world where his untimely death is the only certainty. If I could make him understand that people can survive this, but they need support and the will to carry on. They need their medication too. Storm refuses it all. It’s suicide. Slow and painful. And he doesn’t want me to save him. I can’t save him if he doesn’t let me in.
So I sit in my corner and I wait. Every new sunrise he lives to see is an achievement. Not mine, but his own. I am surprised to see him take a shower today. And he cleans his home too. There’s a glint in his eyes. A determination that hasn’t been there for a long time too. I don’t understand what is happening. Or who. But over night, he changed. Why? And why does it unsettle me? My soundless screams aren’t heard. My pushes and shoves are mere ghosts of a touch on his skin. Don’t do it Storm! Don’t do it! Don’t…

I was infected with HIV when I was seventeen. It’s Aids now, but I don’t want help and I don’t want pity. I don’t want to be seen as the sick one. I don’t want them to see me deteriorate. I don’t want this disease to steal my life. So I do it myself. My party. My beginning. My end.
I love you,  goodbye.

Trapped

 

I have this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I know something is going to happen. For too long it has been quiet. We’re at war and quiet is never reassuring. It makes you believe you’re safe, but in reality, you are not. You are mere moments from death. All the time. I have no idea, why we aren’t all going insane and slaughtering ourselves mutually, instead of waiting for the silent killers. Maybe it’s only the fear that keeps us sane.

It’s getting dark as I walk down the street. The gravel crunching underneath my feet is all that can be heard and for a moment, I am lost in thoughts. For a moment, I am not afraid. For a moment, I am at peace. I hear a piano play while I walk out of the little village that I am passing. It’s soothing. It’s a little normalcy in a life that became too restricted lately. I needed to run and break free and now I am here. Tired, hungry and covered in grime. You see, I don’t have the patience to stay in one place for too long. I can’t stand being with the same person for too long before I get bored. I need a change of scenery quite often. I need my freedom. I need my independence.

My skin gets prickly and the hair on my arms stand on end. I knew it. Too quiet. Too peaceful. And that’s when I hear that now so familiar sound. Bells. The single alarm sign that tells us, that the bombs are coming. I hear the planes and then, the first bomb is going down. I see and explosion on the other side of the village and I run.

I have no idea where I am, but I run. Screams. Explosions, that are in quick succession. Where am I supposed to hide? A woman comes running out of a house. She wears no shoes, but she doesn’t care. The look on her face is one of pure horror. It’s the horror of war. Politicians deciding from safe places to kill innocent civilians, because of greed and to have more power. People die, children die. Families lose sons and their entire existences, but the war goes on. The only thing we all have in common is fear. Constant fear. We don’t want to loose, but we the civilians, we the poor, can never win.

I keep on running and looking for shelter, but safe space is sparse and I am a stranger. Who wants a stranger in his shelter? I understand them, I really do. But I just want to live through this air raid and get on with my life.

On a field left of me, I see a shadow walking down into the earth. I shake my head at my own stupidity. There must be a bomb shelter, how else could he walk down into the earth. I know that it’s a matter of living and dying now. Fear. The noise is deafening and I start running faster. I stumble a few times, but that won’t stop me from running into the field. I have to get there. Maybe it’s my only chance of survival now.

The door is about to close, but I am in time and pull it open again. A man stares up at me. If his face is a mirror of mine, he is a scared as me. He lets me in and with joint forces, we close the door above our heads. A loud rumble erupts over us. I’m still standing on the ladder and I feel it shaking. I pray to every deity in heaven to make this shelter safe. I climb down the rest of the ladder and hear a loud explosion again. I duck and put my hands on my head in a shielding manner. Nothing happens and I look at the man. I don’t really see him as a man. Not the way I usually watch men. I can’t say if he is handsome or tell the color of his eyes. It’s not important now.

The stranger and I, we walk a little further into the shelter. There is another door and we close that one too. From one moment to the next, it is silent. Eerily so. We both stand in the dark, looking at the door as if we could see through it. See what is happening on the surface. Maybe it’s just as good, that we can’t see anything. We can’t see the devastation and the destruction. We can’t see the pain in people’s eyes and we can’t smell death. I feel my heartbeat in the vein on my neck. He must hear my blood pumping through my body.

We don’t speak. We just listen and wait. In the dark. Unconsciously, we move closer together. I can feel the heat of his arm against mine. It’s reassuring that I am not by myself. He must feel the same.

My legs are starting to get heavy and my neck is getting stiff from looking up at the door. It is still silent. No noise at all. I am not sure what is more frightening. The bombs or the silence. After a while, my companion announces, that he wants to go up again. I follow him closely. I don’t want to stay behind. Be alone. At the top of the ladder, he tries to open our only way out, but he doesn’t succeed. He pushes harder and still, nothing happens. I get up too. Space on the ladder is very restricted, but maybe two can move more than one person alone. We push. But nothing moves. I have a vivid vision of one of us falling down the ladder and the other having to spend the rest of his own life with a rotting corpse. It makes me shudder and I push harder until the muscles in my arms refuse to cooperate. Sweat runs down my face.

“Stop it. Gather your strengths. We are trapped.” He hangs his head and walks down to the room where we were before. He is giving up. Why is he giving up? I need to get out of here. Then, realization hits me hard;Trapped! It resonates through my head. My worst nightmare is coming true.

Conversations between me and myself

My days are loud, full of thoughts. Of dialogues between her and me. Who is she?

It’s the woman who greets me through the mirror.
She: Hello
Me: Hi
She: you look tired
Me: I haven’t slept well
She: I can tell. You look old and tired. And is that grey hair? It’s time to dye again.
Me: Fuck off
She: language, young lady
Me: whatever. I don’t need you in my life
She: you’re wrong. I am in you. I am you.
I walk out of the the bathroom and shut the lights. I get dressed.

She: Hi again
Me: didn’t I tell you to piss off?!
She: don’t look in the mirror then
Me: *rolls eyes*
She: you lost weight. It shows.
Me: really?
She: yeah. Your hourglass figure is back and that fat tummy is getting less.
Me: *turns from one side to the other with a smile* Thank you. I don’t look like shit today.
She: you still look tired
Me: fuck off!

I make myself a cup of tea. A yogurt and a banana for breakfast.
She: oh can’t you drink a cup of coffee for once and smoke a fag? I’m dying for a fag.
Me: It’s unhealthy and I want to be healthy
She: just one then. Your choice.
Me: *pours boiling water into a cup and adds Maté tea* no. I can’t.
She: why?
Me: I am not a smoker and Pete hates it.
She: he doesn’t have to know and there’s that pack in that drawer. Come on.
Me: okay. Just one.
As always, once a week – or twice, I give in. I light my cigarette, take my cup and my kindle and smoke on the balcony.
She: ah. That’s good. Look at the clouds.
Me: I love clouds. *takes a picture and posts it to Instagram with a poem*
The morning is quieter while I put in a load of laundry, fill the dishwasher and turn the music louder.

She: why did you skip that song?
Me: I can’t listen to his voice right now
She: do you love him?
Me: yeah. No. Do I? I love Pete.
She: he makes you happy and he offers you his time. The biggest gifts of all.
Me: I know. But why?!
She: ask!
Me: I can’t. *opens email client and writes a lengthy email*
She: wow, you’re clingy. You’re making him run
Me: shit. I can’t unsend it. It was your idea. Stupid!
She: your fingers wrote the thing. Own up to it.
Me: didn’t I tell you to piss off?
She: language
Me: *turns music even louder to drown out the voice*

She: talk to me
Me: why?
She: I am lonely
Me: get some friends then
She: I don’t have friends and you know it. I keep them at distance on purpose.
Me: not my problem
She: yes it is. You are lonely and need attention too.
Me: you’re wrong
She: I am not and you know it. That’s why you write what you write. You expect them to react and to love you.
Me: shut up. I don’t want to hear it.
She: but I am right. You want to be seen and to be loved. But once someone sees you, you either hide or get clingy.
Me: maybe
She: not maybe. Certainly.

Me: *types a new poem on the phone*
She: that one is crap. You can do better.
Me: *deletes* maybe she is right. I don’t have anything meaningful to say. Maybe I should delete my account. No one needs my ramble and mediocre writing anyway.
She: your writing is not bad. And there are people who love it.
Me: why?
She: because.
Me: because what?
She: because I said so.

Me: could you please leave me alone for once?
She: no. You know that I want to be there when he calls.
Me: he will not call. I pushed him away with all the talk about him being perfect.
She: but he is.
Me: I know
She: he’ll come around.
Me: I don’t want him to
She: why?
Me: because of my responsibilities and my family
She: does he make you happy and a better person?
Me: yes
She: give in to him
Me: it’s immoral and a one way street. I will end up being hurt
She: but at least you did something for yourself.
Me: I do that all the time
She: by sabotaging and punishing yourself. That’s not the same.
Me: shut up.
She: it’s getting old and you know I will not shut up
Me: please
She: go to sleep then.

Me: will you let me sleep?
She: maybe until 2am. Then I will torture you some more.
Me: okay. Talk to you later.

She: you are a good person.
Me: go to sleep.
She: but really. I like you.
Me: than why do I hate myself?
She: because you never learned to love yourself.
Me: there is nothing loveable about me. Please let me sleep.
She: not before you check wattpad, twitter, facebook and instagramm
Me: it’s the middle of the night
She: but the light on your phone is blinking.
Me: so what?
She: what if it is important
Me: it never is
She: it could be
Me: *gives in and checks social networks*

She: you look like shit this morning
Me: you don’t look better
She: I am a beauty. Put some more mascara on
Me: will you be quieter today
She: of course not
Me: will you make me sad?
She: I prefer not to, but you know me. Triggers are everywhere
Me: okay. Maybe we should try the peace and serenity thing today
She: deal. Put on some music and get started.

(…)

nothing but an illusion

I crave your touch
Yearn to feel your heat.
Speak to me.

Your kisses on my neck
Your breath on my naked skin.
Make me see.

Unbreak my fragile heart
Put my pieces back together.
Heal me.

I want you near
You are on my mind.
Love me.

And as raise my head
I see the stars above.
The light in your eyes.

Your soft voice inside my ear
Reminds me of who you want me to be.
Beguiling me.

The ghost of your soul
Feeds me everything I’ve lost.
Save me.

In my dreams you are real
My fears nonexistent.
You set me free.

The dark and desperation faded
The light and hope shine for you.
You did this.

But while I blame you for the good
I realise it’s not you.
It’s in me.

I am a wreck today.
just a shadow of my usual self
it all came without warning

explosions in the sky

Explosion in the sky
Bright spark
Electricity.

The skin prickles
The heart races
And you know.

Fragments that used to be stars
Blown apart
Beautiful sight.

Dust gathers
Comes together
Joins long lost pieces at last.

Explosions in the sky
Brought us together
And what felt wrong all this time, is finally right.

lets brave this storm together

Your voice echoes in every thought played out in my mind.
Take me with you and lets brave that rough storm you’re in.
With a crooked finger I beg you to come to me
Just to hold you for a little while
Just to brush the pain from your face with my lips.
Would you listen to the melody of my voice?
Could you accept my soothing words?
My fingers in your curls
Your head in my lap
If I could, I would take your sadness away
For a little while
Until I see that faint smile
And know that, for now, we braved the storm.