gingerginger

i printed your picture
i cut out your face
i glued it to my teddybear's face
the teddybear i sleep with

i am a broken heart
you are a listening ear

dear iona georgiana tuta,

it's like we are siblings who travelled to a magical land, who adventured together
we've experienced this, we've come through this together
we're like heroes, like martyrs
like proud people in old photographs
i can picture us, saint poses in holy pictures
we've come out of it marked
and we can't forget, and we don't want to
and it's like a secret, like a journey only we know about
images, words, moves and feelings and sounds we can't share with others because they wouldn't understand, it's like no one knows, no one can understand
it makes us walk in secrecy, running back in our thoughts to what we had
it makes us special, it makes us feel different from the others, distinguished
because our potentials were unlocked, we could use our powers, we could be ourselves, that's what and how we felt
we're like the children that came back out of the wardrobe
we're like a small creature poisoned by a burden it's been carrying, too corrupted to stay, we have to go, we want to go back so bad, we have to leave
we are few points burning brightly on the map, me, you, deni, iva, burning, longing
we can't find us places of our own, we weep when we walk and we cry when we sleep
driven by things, feelings, powers we don't name
and here we are, a conspiracy, plotting how to get back, what to do
it's grey outside, it turns dark, i walk around, i walk in circles
my body moves like it's pushed by little explosions, like it's pushed
[zach condon cancelled my brain today, it's an appetizer before i consume the flying club cup]
we are still young and naive, and we can still use big pathetic words, it's the privilege of our age
we have to go, we have to leave, we must go to new york city

it's 1:59am, it's 7:50pm, what are you doing? [i'm right here.]

it's the resolutions to be better, smarter, wiser, educated, developed
it's the plans to move, to go
it's the pile of clothes i go trough making the bed
it's the jacket, the belt, the high leather shoes
it's the mess, the papers, the books and cups, the mints on the desk
it's the peanut butter eaten with a large spoon straight from the jar
it's the sounds, the music, can you hear it? can you har it? the carnivale in my room right after the funeral
it's the gulag orchestra playing when everybody around is already asleep
it's the new pack of cigarettes, right after i gave up
it's the steps, it's the dream of making steps in the air
it's how i spin around, hands mid-air, and the ideas in my head swirl
it's what i am to others and how they see me, and how i am free
it's the picture of you smiling in Amsterdam I can only look at
from the vacations we never took together

it's 12:37, we're having lunch

i'm a stupid mutt, i'm a stray mutt you see wandering alone on the streets. i feed on leftovers, i fill my mouth/heart/mind with 5 sentences, 6 words, tiny pieces of attention i get, that's what makes me survive, that's what makes me live, that's all there is for me.
i feed my heart on what i steal, i never get anything, i'm a thief-mutt, i steal.

i'm a pretentious mutt, i sleep alone, i cry in my sleep, i dream about belonging to someone, i dream about being tamed. i'm a pretentious mutt, i use big words, i think about feelings.

i'm a mutt, i make you pity me when i look at you with my large, glassy eyes; you pity me when you see my sad face, you think i beg then, i beg for attention and love.

my heart is a stray mutt, it does not belong to anyone. my heart is a mutt you drive, frighten away.

like a stray mutt, my heart gets kicked.

[i'm a stupid mutt because i let myself be fooled again and again, because i always fall for things which leave me hurting]

Elliott Smith (August 6, 1969 – October 21, 2003)

Now on the bus
Nearly touching this dirty retreat
Falling out 6th and powell, a dead sweat in my teeth
Gonna walk walk walk
Four more blocks, plus the one in my brain
Down downstairs to the man, he's gonna make it all okay
I can't be myself
I can't be myself
And I don't want to talk
I'm taking the cure
So I can be quiet whenever I want
So leave me alone
You ought to be proud that I'm getting good marks
Needle in the hay

why i am a fourteen-year-old girl

******************

m: omg, what would i do if i had 3 individuals like you?

d: nah, i'd have strangled them in their sleep. i must remain unique.
[i'm a very exacting son]

in the park

[friday night]

why i am a fourteen-year-old girl

the sexiest voice on earth, #2 is right.

on the stairs we sat

yup, porce, you were right.

dear ian curtis

please, leave my head.

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

i just got back from college, ate dinner [while watching tv shows]
i promised myself i'll work even harder this semester, but today i've done nothing so far
[ and there are so many books to read, so many skills to master ]
i'm sitting in front of the computer, listening to music and watching pics [bears]
i'm sleepy and dreamy, the fall outside my window fills me with melancholy
i miss the city and eagle, i miss that pleasant crowd
now i'm back
later i'll try to learn french

***

s: what were you up to? i texted you, but you didn't get my messages..
d: that's probably because of the ocean
s: yup, the ocean makes a lot things harder..what was it like and when did you come back?
d: 5 days of hell and 2 of heaven for 3 months, then a week of the latter; the body came back saturday, the spirit left the body
s: it stayed there? we have to get together for lunch

the summer is ended and we are not saved

i'm back
it's hard to bevelieve
it's monday evening, 7pm, i clock out and i'm free, my contract ends
i'm free and i live in the city
oh, these were such wonderful days
but one day i'm eating lunch in the park behind the public library, and few hours later i'm here, i'm nowhere
i miss the city so much
i want to go back
watch baseball
i want to walk the streets of the city
i want to spend my time in fab cafes and bistros in chelsea and village, manhattan
i want to spend my evenings in the eagle
it's like one day i live to the fullest, and suddenly some force pulls me back and degrades me
it's hard hard to stop living there, in the city
i already make comparisons

everybody loves dvd

i am a broken heart