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

the trap

see, i don't know where anyone went wrong. how can I tell?
associations opposed to truths. and fuck yeah, this is just a word.
she spoke with flaming lips. her rhythm swaying me, rocking my soul. in the end she left me burning on the ground. my ocean was storming and i found it hard to breathe.

i don't wanna make any promises.
we kissed in the dim twilight between day and night. he held me.
he held me.
while i was on the steps so i could look in his eye.
and i wasn't scared. it was light and easy. like a summer breeze.
i ran home, skipping along the wet boardwalks and tried to call my past once i got home.
nobody picked up.

music is inciting the storm now. Gustavo came by, one legged, with a smile in his eyes and flamenco on his mind.
later i crawled closer to the heater.
this reminds me of driving in my messed up car and i still feel the pheromons calling.

even

sometimes it works.
I click on the song. I hear it kick in. The first chords. And I am right there, where I long to be.
This is completely dispensable.
This is as unnecessary as anywhich moment of nostaligic reminiscing.
But it brings me back to you. And since I know that this is futile business I indulge in it as some people who quit smoking enjoy to hang out in smokey bars.
I would like to write brilliant poetry. Breath-taking prosa on the futility of this moment. Of me writing into the void. Of this god forsaken time machine.
Herein lies the beauty. In the imperfectness of my amateur blog. of my fucked up nostaligia with self destructive dimensions that will never show in their full scope.
You out there. you just keep on browsing. Float with the breeze. Let it all pass.
But you, you, who knows. Know, that right now everything could be turned backwards. Upside down. Everything could be possible right now. Anything. A moment of love lingering in eternity. In the parallel universes which we forgot how to access.

I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night.

raging

it hit me seemingly from - nowhere.
this feeling of attack. panic. heart to take. hard to breathe.
i was at the videostore. called KL. he was against it, he said, only if it is really a matter of finances. if there is no other sensible way i'd say do it.
i rushed home. crushed.
called D. he didn't pick up naturally.
on the search for redemption outside myself.
called my sister. just to have her tell me what i felt inside, what mutilated and suffocated me inside with no way to be expressed properly.

honestly, i didn't understand why i felt that way all of the sudden.
it seemed like a good plan. i have pondered it since mid December. i was the main instigator. the main supporter.

BAIL OUT
BAIL OUT
BAIL OUT

so I expressed my fears, flaked, told her that she couldn't move in after all. such a travesty. of no importance whatsoever. so what!
still. i couldn't breathe. and i didn't understand.
how little things sometimes are just the disguise.

today at lunchtime the lurking abyss ripped open. a small question. and i broke in tears.

'how was it in your childhood' she asked. how .... predictable. psychologically speaking.

i haven't had a room of my own almost all my life.
my mom hasn't had one either. and neither did her mother, not when they emigrated anyways.
they lived out of boxes for ever. since i can think it's been that way.
couldn't buy a thing for myself without beating myself up or justifying myself without end...
i haven't moved into my room properly since November.
i was going to rent it out to a friend and live again like a nomad. here, there, on couches, in campers that aren't mine, in friends' beds. with no place to call my home or own.

when i called home where the heart is
your absence robbed my house of all it's meaning.

closing time

it can be lonely out here. walking through the night. crunch crunch, through the snow. i try to avoid the beaten path, the crunch is louder over here where nobody walks but some dogs. so it is the dogshit slalom blues. and one night past full moon. trees look surreal and naked. crows are sleeping.

i am not lacking. you aren't. that's for sure. i feel so strong, here, things are just right. it's clearly the right path. not the fogged up one that i chose two years ago. taking the most amazing and yet most painful detour of my life.
ah, stop talking about things like - pain. or, feelings.
crunch crunch and my boots just keep going. they are almost falling apart these days. but they keep going.
my scarfs tied tightly around my head, wrapped around my shoulders. it's the Turkish part of town. past midnight.

i remember how awe-struck i was by a post by Veronica about the girl that followed the whales.

this is what it is like for me now. i am on a godforsaken ocean and it's gray and windy and so damn lonely out here on my way to follow MY whales.

you could walk through my door and it would be alright. i wouldn't feel the need to melt into you anymore. this is closing time. gaping is closing.
no maybe's or whatever's or anything. just me now and my forsaken ship in this ocean with a few stars that guide me through this night.

crunch crunch.
you are so optimistic and positive she says, amazed.
i laugh, i feel strong, i just grew stronger man.
and it's not you who is lacking.
it's just that something really died inside.
it's this impossible love. the kind, that makes you feel alright even if you feel lonely in a crowd. because you know you love this person so impossibly deeply and truly and you know and feel they do too. that probably just now they are thinking about you too.
it's that kind of love that has robbed my stars of their mysteries, their light. by giving that longing a name and the name was yours.
and now it's not and it is all gone and it is cold and dark and lonely down here.
following my path.