Traces of ink 🌑

My list of enough already

Well I became 22 around the 9th of November 2020And ever since I have been lying for who I amBecause I cannot bear thinking I’m becoming older nowAnd growing further and further apart from July For it was July the last time I was ever near 18When there was still some optimistic kid insideThat thought had seen enough of the world and yet not allNot the good parts yetAnd then got everything but…

No, I do not write anymore

I will not write until the homesickness

Drifts on my skin like an old leather jacket

That hasn't been worn for years

Like yours will

Maybe in a couple of years.

I don't want to write, don't make me

Face the reality of existence

And it's limits

Your existence

And it's absence.

I called your mom

She was crying

I told her hang in there

But did I have to used the word

Hang

Courage I said

As if courage helps

As if I don't falter to distinguish reality from dreams

Waking up disappointed everyday

That you won't ever read again anything I write

Because you're still alive when I close my eyes and I flirt with the idea

Of never opening them again

Because it's nice when you're alive

Too much for everyone again

And I'm the last people want to see

And I prefer the silence

Longing to submerge under

The deafening sea

And come out only

When I feel like breathing

Because no body can be as generous

With their time

And they've got plenty left

At least by the looks of it

I guessed you'd always be here too

But hell, if I knew to read minds

I came to see friends

And I'm lonelier than at home

Because here the excuse of distance

Cannot hold

And the truth slithers underneath the door

And I find solace only on the carpet

Where part of you still is

Times eats me up

Unbound by sleep paralysis

I run towards rest, just rest

With the blade appearing in my grasp

I just want to rest

With the cold metal on the flesh

Just let me rest

With the burning parting of the skin

I'm close to rest

Just let it last until I rest

Just don't stop it till I rest

Just let me drown until I rest

I'll come to the surface when I rest

Drowsiness and sleep in sleep

Stage 1

stage 2

stage 3 and 4

RAPID EYE MOVEMENT

RAPID EYE MOVEMENT

It’ll be two months on the 15th

Letters, poetry and megapixelsRadio silenceCries live streamingSuper absorbent bottomless mattressYou singer sing to peal the blindness offI reek of guilt, a wide blue leakA wreckage of twenty oneAn earthshaking, blunt handler, waterproof, eco-friendly pile ofbills, rents, donut receipts and doctor’s orders, dry clean the eyelids and sweat deodorantThe abyss of your hair, the bliss of the…

Tiresome walks down the beach

And branches being weighed down by

Heavy feet

And the waves splashing on pebbles

Wetting my skin

But the pavement, the solid stones

Has nailed me like a cross

In my sleep

Futile are my screams

For the kids playing in the sand

And the concerned adults

Who will never know better or think twice

Dismissive, appalling looks of fear that

Someone

Dared to break down in public

So I drag myself away from one illusion

To another

And people fall like autumn leaves

In streets, in houses, under trees

Always hanging to succeed

And bring forward the unavoidable

And I stall the morning away, every day

To mourn freely in my bed

My mind lying on the pillow of someone's chest

It warms me

Till the chill of consciousness takes grip

Another nightmarish dream

My pen slips downThe red strap over your arm in anAgonizing try to reach further fromMy shivering spineAnd catch youThe fabric loaded with your memoryI stock it awayNever to hang tenderly over another’s arm again. This carpet now belongs to heaven or a library-wherever dead poets end upAnd it pains me to step on tearsThat delivered truths unspoken to its threadsAnd words heavy with a sip of…

A tie, a picture, a tear, a candle Two candles, more tears And in the middle spiraling out of existence The peace, the quiet

The baby pigeon The lady with the tutu skirt The old lady that prayed every night To my same named saint I haven’t learned to receive My whole life the preacher Taught me into giving giving giving I have nothing else to give When I look back the instant thought I want to make her happy Fill whatever hole she’s scratching Every day My ears are bleeding And yet I still listen every whisper Every short breath,…

Δεν γράφω πια Δεν γράφω πια γιατί τα λόγια ξίνισαν σαν φρούτα Που ξέχασα στον ήλιο μέσα Ιούλη Και η δυσωδία έχει κάψει τα ρουθούνια Τρίζω σαν το ξύλινο πάτωμα του πατρικού μου Που το χουν πατήσει τόσα βάρη Και δεν αντέχω την ίδια μου τη σάρκα Το λάδωμα δε γιατρεύει τη σαπίλα Νοθεύω ο,τι λογής σκέψη με οινόπνευμα Να μουδιάσει κάθε κύτταρο που θα Τολμούσε να διαιωνίσει αυτό το τσίρκο από Λέξεις που ακροβατούν…

Today I’m stretching a prayer To God To see what He’s done with my voice If I’ve been to enough funerals Of wretched beeings To morn them still alive and heaving I fire the heel up with a scream And ice my knee To touch the core of His heart When will mine cease beating? An amusing instrument to You It must be to keep even broken A burdensome ramshackle to the bearer Mind You, as I slip, the fingers of Your…