#ciaraban

Thoughts all jumbled up again It’s a mess, a messy darkness storming Through your mind with all the words and Thoughts so muddled, unreadable, again Open eyes, but you cannot see Closed them shut, but the swirling dark Won’t give up a single coherent strain No words, no light, no direction Where to look, where to turn When your thoughts are all So badly jumbled up again

Anyhow, it’s been a while since my last sketch and colored art. That’s why I’m really happy with this chibi pic. On the left side you see an adorable chibi version of ciaraban. And on the right side, you see a chibi version of lyenka…yes…the same person, who is curretly writing this whole crap. 😂😂😂 ENJOY the craic! 🍀

Who are you looking at Who is that in your skin, walking, talking, touching Touching others, feeling their heat or denying it Who are you really looking at Who is the one directing your body whilst drunk on liquid drugs Whilst sky-high on all kinds of polluted air Who is the one taking another smooth sip with your lips Who are they looking at Smiling, inviting, expecting, exhilarated, aroused Who are they looking at

Just fly away, says the black bird Just scare them away, says the white snake Just eat them up, says the grey cat But then it ponders, with its tail tip twitching And adds with a grin, But not before playing with them Twice as cruelly as they did you wrong And then, it finishes, very pleased, and then Just eat them up whole

It wells up inside your chest Like a well’s water surface surging from the ground With all the unknown dirt and grime, but also Evanescent particles of minerals That might strengthen your unalteredly white bones After you’ve managed to climb out that well After you’ve brushed off the dirt and grime Will your skin glitter under the day Your bones shine clean under your flesh As if the ground had never drowned you

It came over you like a silent wave And its abyssal depth inexorably put you to sleep Yet, strangely, inexplicably, for once, this time Your lungs breathe easier when you wake up again

Don’t take another drag It’ll burn your throat, your lungs Don’t take another shot It’ll burn your throat, your chest Don‘t take another pill It’ll make you miss all alarms, mess up your rythm, make it hard to concentrate even when you are awake What‘s the drug to turn to? What you call happiness What price does it have, what colour, what smell, taste, feel, origin What’s the form of your happy little secret? Do you burn your muscles instead of cigarettes? Do you make your fingertips bleed for art instead of skin for needles? Do you revitalise in company instead of aloneness? What’s your drug for happiness? And when it won’t work for you What will you turn to next in your indefinite, vague, yet all-consuming painful longing Will you take another breath of reeking, dazing smog to soften your thoughts Will you take another sip of numerous sharp, burning drinks to chase away your unanswered questions until they drown in the recesses of your treacherous mind Will you take another inconspicuous looking pill, prescribed, self-prescribed, on the quiet, to dissipate the screaming silence, the pounding noise, the gaping abscence of a solution others find so naturally What’s the drug to turn to in lieu of genuine happiness?

Hot breath in icy clouds Burning lungs in freezing skin Heavy living with light-weight weapons Pale blue tears of sky in a pale grey ceiling Trembling fingers search for bloody knuckles What are we to do with our arms? Strained voices search for warming words Cracked lips search for closeness Heavy living just turned into survival - yours, mine Tired legs give way on unmoving concrete Feathery snow drawing the curtain Somniferous and deceptive - but breathing burns too much Hot breath shared in icy clouds Freezing skin searches for affirmation What are we to do with our tired arms?