Dark moon

Butterfly feelings in my chest

Stains on my satin soul

Rain in a bottle

And I am coming undone.

*

I cannot sleep again

Your pieces in me

Screaming and kissing

Make me feel good!

*

Twisted ropes around my thoughts

These words don’t work

I lost you on the other side of the screen

Always too far.

*

Hidden in my bedroom

This is not me

Layers of shadows

Reasons for light.

*

You are a breeze on my skin

Protecting me from the voices

Waves of emotions

Exploding fireworks.

*

Gone in sin

Follow me into the night

Sweating and swearing

Pretend you don’t have a choice.

*

Magic pull

Burning fires

Tonight there are no liars

Only lovers in the full moon.

***

zen (a to z)

Agitated, nervous, rapid breathing. Anxiety was a part of her now. Panic attacks that felt like she was dying. Constricted lungs, exploding hearts. There was nothing zen about her. Not anymore. Life had taken away her feeling of safety. No one was looking out for her or protecting her. She had to do it on her own and it was harder than it looked. Other people were fine on their own, or at least they weren’t visibly failing at life, but she was and it was scary. The inner restless spread inside of her and she wished she could just not be there. She ran her hands over her face to feel herself, but that gesture made it all worse. She couldn’t be touched, not even by herself. She wanted to scream, but there was no air to form a sound. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. Where was that zen everyone talked about? There was just pain. The pain of existing. The pain of being alive. Nothing zen. Just pretending that everything was well.

Bush – Everything Zen (from the album Sixteen Stone released in 1994 on Interscope)

 

This…

This tweet melted me a bit tonight. “A magical mind”. ❤ To be honest, I follow this person on Twitter because they have a wicked sense of humour. We don’t interact often. And I don’t know them well, so, this tweet was unexpected, and I love it a whole lot.

In two hours, the last post of the a to z challenge will go online. It is one of two that was scheduled days ahead. All the other posts were written moments before they were shared. I doubt I did it the right way- this entire challenge, and yet, I came up with a new post every day. And that in itself is a success.

Today felt empty because I didn’t share a song of the day. I did not have to listen to my heart and pick a song that was fitting for my mood and mind, and I kind of missed it. We will see what will happen next.

People were nice today. Beautiful minds.

Thank you for that, too. xx

years went by (a to z)

Youth and beauty had faded. Her shaking hands were caressing an old photograph; it showed a young woman laughing happily, and a handsome man who looked at her, absolutely in love.

Her lips were quivering, and tears welled up in her eyes, she remembered him well. He had been the one who got away; her one true love. She didn’t know what had become of him; lives had interfered. Responsibilities had driven them apart. He had been married, and she had been too. They both had had children and lives apart. There was never a chance for them to be a real couple. And yet, they had met.

For a week, they had been able to live their lives together, deeply and madly in love. Six days that had been spent on a Mediterranean Island in an all-inclusive resort. Just the two of them. She couldn’t remember what they had done during these days, if there had been adventures or visits; her memory was foggy from old age. But she knew that they had made love. A lot. They had connected on a special, unique level. But it had not been enough.

She looked down at the picture again an smiled a watery smile. If she had been brave, she would have fled her life to be with him, but she had not been. She had gone back to her husband and her life, and had almost disappeared in her longing heart. They had written emails and called each other late at night. But they had never met again. Less and lesser they got in touch, until they became memories in the other’s life.

Years went by, and all that was left of her life was a box with fading pictures, a couple of regrets, and the question of what would have become of her life if she had been courageous. She sighed and hid the picture in her pile again. Remembering good times was exhausting. She put the box away and shuffled to her chair. It was raining outside. The downpour became the backdrop noise of her second nap that day. In her dreams, she met him again, young and beautiful.

(I almost skipped this post. I am having a migraine and my shoulder hurts… These a to z posts were all written late at night, improvised and following an impulsive creative urge. They were not premeditated or edited. I wrote them and scheduled them for a couple of minutes after midnight, then I put my phone in airplane mode and tried to sleep. Tonight was not all that different…)

Xenophobic? Not Xander! (a to z)

On the pulpit, a man held a fiery speech. His cheeks were red; beads of sweat were slick on his forehead. He raised his fist into the air and shook it, reminding his congregation of the threat people from other countries were. They came to steal their jobs and marry their women; they came to collect their money and have their children. They came to cheat these God-fearing men out of their successes. Foreigners were liars, cheaters, criminals, terrorists. Slapping his hand down on the papers in front of him, the new Reverend warned his church to stay away from these unwanted foreigners.

Xander looked at the sunbeams illuminating the dust in the stuffy air. He counted the sweaty drops that fell from the Reverend’s face onto the pages of his sermon. Xander estimated how many women were wearing black hats, and how many men were asleep. The Reverend kept yelling his truth, spit flying out of his mouth.

Xander believed in God. He went to church every Sunday and prayed before every meal and before he went to bed. He was not a rich or intelligent man, but he was witty and street-smart. He was educated enough, although he often felt dim when people in suits were discussing politics. He scratched his chin and looked at his shiny shoes. He had cleaned them, especially for Sunday service. Xander felt uncomfortable. He was sure there had to be some truth in the Reverend’s speech, but he didn’t understand it. All he heard was a tirade of hate. Was a man of God supposed to spread hate? And were his brothers and sisters supposed to agree with this kind of disdain? Because they were, they were saying affirmative words and nodding their heads. No, Xander didn’t understand it. Xander’s stomach growled. At home, his wife was waiting with lunch, and he couldn’t wait to join her. She did not believe in Xander’s God, and yet, she prayed too. They were different from one another, but that was what made their love going strong for two decades now.

After church, Xander felt unsettled. Instead of driving straight home, he chose to go for a walk to clear his head. He passed stores and shops. They had been there for years, and it had never been an issue that the owners were mostly immigrants. The town in which they were living only existed because of foreigners. Xander lifted his hat to push his hair back and wiped the sweat from his brow. All these people were friends. They were his family. And yet, the new Reverend had called them the root of all evil. He had asked to boycott these stores, and he had admonished the congregation not to mingle with “these people.” Xander shook his head; his thoughts hadn’t become clearer, if anything, they were more muddled.

He made his way back to the church were his truck was waiting, he wanted to speak with his wife about today’s sermon and the hate that seemed to have filled the church. Miss Maria walked passed Xander; she was pushing a stroller and balancing two paper bags filled with groceries. Xander knew Miss Maria’s parents well. They were from Italy, and their hospitality knew no bounds. Xander greeted the young woman, and when she greeted back, one of her bags slipped and fell to the ground. The Reverend came closer and looked at the food displayed on the street, Xander bent down to pick it up. “Leave the sinner’s food, brother Xander. She does not deserve to eat our food.” People had gathered, staring at the scene. The new Reverend held a lot of power, and Xander’s neighbors didn’t move to help; it was as if they were afraid. It had never been like this. A cloak of hate was slowly downed over Xander’s hometown.

“I am sorry, Miss.” Xander apologized and helped the woman up. “It’s quite alright, Mister Xander,” she replied, but her eyes betrayed her sadness, and maybe she did not feel safe anymore. It made Xander sad as well. He put the paper bag back in the young woman’s arm and lifted his hat to say goodbye.

The Reverend approached Xander, wanting to poison him with his views, but Xander excused himself, fled to his truck, and drove off. He believed in God, and he thought that his God loved every man and woman just the same. His God was good and understanding.

Agitated from the happenings that Sunday morning, Xander chose to have a drink in his living room. On a sideboard stood a small calendar, it showed the word of the day: “Xenophobia.” Xander didn’t know what it meant and made a mental note to get back to that complicated word after lunch. His wife, Mahbube, had prepared a Tunisian specialty, his favorite, spicy Couscous.

I am late, but…

… I started binge-watching The Handmaid’s Tale. And wow. I am currently on season 2, episode 11—such a rollercoaster show. Absurd. Completely logic and not too. It makes me angry, leaves me incredulous. I am rooting for a couple of characters and have strong feelings about others.

I have been recommended the show on several occasions (on Amazon Prime), but I was not interested. I didn’t know what this show was about and was not interested in historical shows. See how much I didn’t know. When I started the series, I also downloaded the book by Margret Atwood. I didn’t read it yet.

I am just so engrossed in the show. And as an added bonus, it has Rory from the Gilmore Girls. (Alexis Bledel)

It has been a long while since a TV show has captured me in this way.

How? When? Huh!?!

Yesterday, I posted a photo on Instagram stories, I don’t do that often, I don’t have many followers, and it feels stupid to me, to be honest. But I did. Today, I wanted to see who has seen my image. A total of 19 views. And of those 19, there are two international music acts. Efterklang (a Danish band. Really good, actually) and Seal. Seal?! How on earth did he stumble across my photo, and then he clicked on it and looked at it?! Why? How? Someone explain, please, because I can’t wrap my head around it. Fucking hell. (Sorry, this deserves some happy cursing). Seal! Crazy. Holy excrement!!!

Ok… I calmed down. *shaking my head* 19 views. Efterklang and Seal.

Written words – a wordless poem (a to z)

Wild roses losing their petals in the wind;

reWind the future, left forever in the past.

Watery tears, falling on deaf ears

Wilted blossoms, forgotten women.

Wide-open are the eyes of them

Weary and blind – wet from fright.

Wasted wars, too many died.

Wearing paper crowns made of fire

Weaknesses ignored, wilderness rediscovered

Wild at heart, we want to run – be free,

Walking toward the cut-down willow trees.

Wailing, staring at the cracked walls in our fragile minds

“Well, I do not know if this was ever real.”

Was it a dream, will we ever breathe?

Wondrous promises, delightfully unaware

Whispered secrets blown into thin air.

White flowers on coffins and graves

We wanted to be strong but wasted away,

Washing off our sorrow with the ashes of our sins.

Worried silence. Shhhh. Don’t say a word. It stays all within.

Rockhal Challenge – Day 13

wp-1586848926527..jpg

A song that describes you

Well, this is a tough one. I mean, I know so many songs, but there is not one I could use to describe myself. I asked on the blog and on Twitter, and because my reach is rather limited, I had one answer. Jeff suggested a song from k.d. Lang. I thought I didn’t know it, but when I heard it, I did. It’s a beautiful song. Also, if you aren’t already, please follow Jeff’s blog. He writes about music and reviews albums, he writes a weekly top 30 and puts lots of work and passion into his posts.

A song that describes me this week:

Art of Dying (with Adam Gontier) – (inside it’s) raining

 

I’m scared to look down
Never been so high
And I can’t look up with a closing mind
I’m scared to be touched
I don’t like the feel
It’s way too close
Way too real
Inside it’s raining
It never lets up
I know I’m crazy
Crazy enough to know that I’ll find a way to make this all go away
I’m scared to be me
Because I look like you
I don’t want to be somebody I never knew
I’m scared to go out
I’m so far in
I hear it’s nice
But I’ve never been
Inside it’s raining
It never lets up
I know I’m crazy
Crazy enough to know that I’ll find a way to make this all go away
I found my only out, so just forget about talking me down
I’ll put this fire out and stop this burning
Inside it’s raining
It never lets up
I know I’m crazy
Crazy enough to know that I’ll find a way to make this all go away
Inside it’s raining
It never lets up
I know I’m crazy
Crazy enough to know that I’ll find a way to make this all go away
Inside it’s raining, make this all go away
Inside it’s raining, make this all go away
Inside it’s raining, make this all go away
Inside it’s raining, make this all go away
Howard Benson/Johnny Hetherington

This song can be found on the album “Vices and Virtues” that this Canadian band released in 2011 (on Reprise Records).

And just now, after having written and edited this post, I thought of a song that describes me well after all.

Depeche Mode – somebody

This song was on the album “Some great reward” (1984, Mute)

I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details
Someone who’ll stand by my side and give me support
And in return, she’ll get my support
She will listen to me when I want to speak
About the world we live in and life in general
Though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted
She’ll hear me out and won’t easily be converted
To my way of thinking, in fact, she’ll often disagree
But at the end of it all, she will understand me
I want somebody who cares for me passionately
With every thought and with every breath
Someone who’ll help me see things in a different light
All the things I detest I will almost like
I don’t want to be tied to anyone’s strings
I’m carefully trying to steer clear of those things
But when I’m asleep I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly
Though things like this make me sick
In a case like this, I’ll get away with it
Martin L. Gore
So, these are my songs for today. What do you think?
Cathy

Is there a song that reminds you of me?

Which song would you choose to describe me?

It would be nice if you replied in the comments, thank you.