it came back in the unknown. a dream, intrinsicate, complex, fulminating in a crescendo of despair, resolving in the utterly most beautiful moment possible.

the moment when you know, that this is love and you can't do anything about it.
and he knows just as well, and no matter, what has happened or will happen, he always will.

so i listen to ray lamontagne, listen to my sister speak about new life stirring and cry soft red tears. everything is in goosebumps. you are completely gone, fainted in will. the fear of knew to come maybe is what brings me back to this well.
maybe it is the dream that was calling me then.

glen hansard

i fantasize
about that night
when you didn't let me come to Marie's show.
i was on my skateboard and you didn't tell me where.
and you had lied to me about who picked you up and everything.
even though we had had such a nice evening just prior.
i fantasize.
because i remember.
i remember how her car drew up and i watched you through the blinds.
blinded in my heart
so heavy
and i heard you guys talk
for ever
i didn't know if i should go outside to meet you.
when she left i did
i found you next to the hotel, throwing up in the bushes
you whined and how you didn't want me to see you that way
and how ... all these things.
sometimes i wonder if it was just to divert my attention from the fact
that you had totally failed me.

i fantasize, rewind.
i fantasize about packing your suitcase while you were talking in the car
how i would walk up casually and give the suitcase to her,
asking her to give you shelter
since she already got the best of you.

I remember all this when I listen to Glen Hansard.
I almost enjoy.
the heaviness and bitter blue clutch around my soul
in this situation
seems almost preferrable
to the total lack of presence
thereof.

47 days

sober
and
i listen to taraf de haidouks
and I can t breathe
because i can only and only feel you
in this very moment
i am caught
caught
caught

linger

I can't really help it
I am struggeling with this
Trying to find words when there are only paintings
The ravens outside the window and the summerstorms
Leaves turned upside down
Shimmering silver
Sucking the last bit of life and meaning from this song
k.d.lang and a dance by Pina Bausch 'Mascura Fogo'
My baby is gone....
Oh!
I live in a different universe now but I will walk back
into a new river
where the old one used to flow
I am trying to repaint
everything I know
Trying to move on in the knowing
Hold dear what needs to be cherished
and

.

this is why

you were good at hiding it, towards the end.
only now I remembered in a short flash of your true being shining through time and space.
there was clashing and rubbing each other the wrong way and despair. hard to catch a breath of air. those hills, those hills. the pink flowers fell to the ground and the tree stood bare. it makes me cry now because i remember. nobody i have met... i can't even go there. it's not important. nobody will ever be the same. one relationship will never be the same with someone different. they are all equal and right.
it's just, why is it, that this was so damn important to me? why in the world was this so important to me???
the moment you would step up behind me, with these eyes. was it your eyes? was i fooled by eyes? or was it really the way you'd look at me? all the things you'd seen and known and the way you'd look at me with the knowledge of old?
it's so elusive that I can't put it in words. i was seriously in love. i think i still am. all those other guys, i can't let them, still can't let them.
i am so sad, so sad, to leave be.
your being is so dear to me.
you were so different from me and in your entirety, in your difference I loved you. because things don't always matter so much.
but they did, right, they did in the end.
i couldn't be just happy to be with you. shine from within. no, i was fighting and fighting and fighting to get back through to you. the veil of addiction covering your face, your eyes, your care.
ah, how can it be. that i still love you so much. how can that be. how the fuck is this possible.

c

windows ablaze with nightingale fluids
mingled upon glass with morning grey
geese fly southbound, flies are dying
it isn the winter hymn scrouching on the meadows
would u believe could u decide what not if unless.

it is utterly and always

the same.

b

blue ravens cross northern hemisphere dark night is blossoming out of your eyes.
your mind is swaying them to sleep
i am amongst my dearest friends and yet so alone.

give me love

wedding. dez. 3 2008

a

several hours until the train leaves. blood spurted out of my eyes when i cried and the deep red orange skies opened to a breaking day
the news the news.
are you well?

Emeralda Leaving...

I am listening to 'Alexandra Leaving' by L. Cohen. Today I turn one year old.
And what a year it was.
I wept yesterday night over the loss of my love one year ago. It was hard to detach.
I know I didn't lose the love but we had to break apart and follow our own paths without each other in the way we had wished for. I don't even think we are without each other. This is what I pray for. The gem to radiate within our souls, to keep it dear to our hearts and respect and honor what we had.
The song pearled from my eyes, the candle I had lit had burnt down by the next morning.
After lying on my bed on end, letting the tears come and go in waves, letting it all be, the pressure on the chest, the pain, the relief, I read some things that I wrote on a typewriter.
I will post these writings later on here in obscurity and then I think I will try to print the posts I like the best, a collection of the traces of this very love in the world wide web.... And then to leave this blog.
I will continue writing other chapters of my life on my older blog, www.mjamani.blogspot.com 'the dark side of the moon'.

'and you who were bewildered by a meaning, whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed, say goodbye to Alexandra leaving, then say goodbye to Alexandra lost...'

impatience

it's hard to breathe, and I know it all!
It's not new, man, it's not new.
I stand up, shake it off, try some small dance steps.
Get back to the computer, restlessly.
Curse, what a curse.
I can't wait to know.
Know more...sparks and lightnings in a bottle.
The smiles and little tender gestures.
Stay winter stay, so he can rub my shoulders when I am freezing.
And the way he put his hands around my face and smiled at me.
it's hard to breathe.

helplessly hoping

It is very early in the morning and I am doing a last minute rush to try and learn for my exam at 10 AM later on.
Helplessly hoping. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
Cardhouses tumble and fall, and yes, we get what we want. Just not in the way we expected it or hoped for.
It is nice to know, that he's out there somewhere. He'll come back soon and we might kiss. It is light.
And it amazes me, how two broken people actually try and find a way through the jungles of heart wreck. Disillusioned and yet daring.

sense and sensibility

I always regretted to recognize myself more in Marianne than in Elinor.
This stupid impulsiveness has brought to many problems to my doorsteps.
Just like in this very moment.
I look at you, you know. I look at you in deep thought, well, as deep as impulse can be. And I am thinking: no, but I really don't love you like that anymore. But there are other things you know. Feelings. And I definitely do project them on you.
Oh, could I just refrain from being so impulsive. It would serve us both very well

dawn dead

as if to rid the present and past from all the meanings burdening it down
i strike again, at fall of midnight and kill the dreams and
in the last pangs of attempted sense i fail and fall and fill the glass up to its brim
with distortion and abortion
the child stillborn the night bereft of reason or even scornful passionate treachery...
refreshing sounds of loving grace left nothing but cold echoes withering in time
again and again i strike and strike
until the last young trees fall
the blossom of apple trees, youthful and strong deprived of their scents and lust
i strike again, again at night
when i let it ring and wait against my wills
holding faith to spawns of hope
to hear your voice yet once again and
let your words
penetrate my skin
and kill
my dawn