Xiena's Art Projects

I filled my stomach with puffy rice Now I feel less empty inside Three candles are burning Jim Jarmusch flickers on the wall Yesterday with you was nice But my heart narrows my sight The time wheel is turning NASA news makes this planet small

I have no patience - I say after waiting for years for a reply After trying to befriend an engineer Every four years or so After not talking to the love of my life Because he asked me While thinking every day Of everything we shared with each other Counting seconds The time is flowing by Running on the horses I am rolling with it Biting my nails I have nurtured my feelings Claiming I fell in love at first sight Not true - my heart was aching Broken way before that So I smacked an unfamiliar face Into the painful crack of my soul Hoping it could heal with that Uncertainty of outcome Not true - it brought more years Of reluctant distractions Which is close to patience I guess Now I'm waiting for another one A chain of people coming through My train car moving backwards Into my past, to jump off From the last carriage Into oblivion Once the train stops And with it I stop being patient - 27 Sept 2016

You can hurt me if you want I’m being hurt by me the most While the engine’s running I’d like to make a toast For all the pain to wash away In the early morning rain With strings to pluck While storms with lightning struck My heart thunders to call your name Upon the misty mountains I catch the winds with my hands As my feet struggle in the sands But my thoughts are free I want you to watch and see What me and you will create Is worthy of a Spanish serenade Take my hand now, hold me tight On this lifelong breathtaking flight

Light and colors So abstract Are suddenly associated With a real human As if it's possible to have a tangible idea of love and light united in the one I see before me.

Do you feel a steady pulsation at the back of your head when you sit in the darkness of your room? When you access the older memories the additional processors in your head are heating up, almost itching. You don't scratch, ever. You don't even notice the drool oozing down your chin as you forgot to manually update the closed-mouth plugin which requires your permission to alter normal behavior. Your capacities are fully loaded processing the vivid images from the past. There isn't enough power to output an emotional response. So you just sit staring blankly at the wall, noticing the slowly fading pulsation at the back of your head.

You are not allowed To cut yourself your hair It's commonly avowed It should be in your flair It's not that you will miss And maybe cut your ear It's you and me, we kiss Thus I shall cut them, dear

I found a place to store my dreams For when the final moment nears With no regrets I will submit Through my words I am complete

You are the source of pure light So watch my face all lit and bright And see a shadow creep behind - My past self lurking to remind Of dreams in blue, of red on hands, But colors fade as your light lands. And in your glow I won't succumb, It contrasts what I have become. 3 Oct 2016

I recognise that thing rising inside I want to preparate it till it will abide As I well know the pain that follows It penetrates the dead heart’s hollows Far too late - I'm not easily deceived All changed with scars that I received Now whenever I see someone’s smile I see a smirk that’s full of hidden vile

Paint night and stars on my back Strike the strings of my heart It's acoustic to sleep in your sack And we'll never decide to part Travel wide and ride a yellow bike Into my autumn-like hazy mind Where if you wish you can hitchhike I promise you the driver will be kind When we drink, the whiskey pours The flames give out a lot of smoke As we set fires to bad book stores Giggling under a dark insanity cloak We're together this good September Settling into a cosy fairytale dream Those are the things I remember When I notice I'm followed by Grim 16/09/16

Ты ответил на все мои вопросы Ровной линией и знаками стоп. По кругу словно бегаем кроссы, Избегая опасных нехоженых троп. Там, где по утру выпадают росы, Тонкими метелками растет укроп, Сидя на пруду и расплетая косы, Русалки поют будто льётся сироп. Видения в сизом дыму папиросы, Яви тугие витки у канатных строп. Какие у меня могут быть запросы? Твоим теплом остановить озноб. 12 сентября 2016