walking

shadowplay of branches drawing wild patterns on my skin.
I am blinking the horizon away.
heat is buzzing against my temples and sweat pearls are dripping down my back.
and endless drip, drip drip…

i can feel every step. every stone and grain, covering roadsides and unpaved walkways.
the air feels thick and burning, being pushed down my windpipe.
breath, breath, breath…

on and on. the landscape before me.
i am a little beating heart, surrounded by vibrant living beings.
Of skin, fur and feathers. bones as heavy as the ocean and light as the wind. floating by.

smells of earth, dirt and rain. Oh, the sweet smell of rain!
time is of no importance, only distance matters.

Advertisements

get up.

get up.
rusty marks on chest and bone. i want to leave this place.

get up.
my brain is working full time. stop.
hide. behind rosy cheeks. your blackened eyes and
mean spirited demeanour.

get up.
from ashes. burned woods and cooling embers.

get up.
raise your voice. scream and stumble trough the roughness of your throat.
now is not the time to find cover. no threshhold will let you pass.
no candles in windows to lead you to a silver lining.

get up.
on this maddening path. in search for change. for one is only still when dying.

A few words…
Rising in my hollow self.

Resentments. Over dreadful past and stories.
I start scraping my skin again. Again.
Trying to peel of the layers of what is simmering inside my head.

A few words…
Enable me to bind myself to this glazing pain.

Free at last, singing my souls desire

copyright (C) 2014 by franzad

Fragments 1

Figures of speech, running and chasing – to the uttermost bewilderment of man. Up on a hill and down, down to the ash-filled holes of earth and filth. I scramble my words, the scattered letters. Worn like a crown upon my heavy head.
The smart connections of daily conversations. On never stopping, gleaming screens. How do i yearn for the sound of sentences, brushing my ear. Numbness of intactions. Atrophie of humanity, how Huxley predicted it so many short years ago. I want the Beat- (nik) of familiar souls, simmering in this heart of mine.
Waitin, waiting till life starts trembling. Blood is streaming down my cheek from constant weeping. The smell of bound paper subsides to a dusted memory. Do you not crave the touch of skin on skin?

copyright (c) 2014 by franzad

For M.

Dear …..

I am sitting here, beneath the branches, swaying to the autuum breeze.

Thinking of you has taken on an obsessive character. There is a part of me, hiding like a trembling child, waiting in anguish fo a single word of you.

I resent and nurish this paart of myself.

And every once in a while, i detect a question rising in the darkest back of my head.  Why did i let you take hold over my quivering heart? Is it the human nature, which keeps my cells from parting?

Do i relish in this enticing pain? My trust is dyining, in slow-motion. And i let it.

How much are we responsible for the feelings of others, of our own?

It amazes me, how easely i let myself become this needy and wanting. Yearning for something…..you.

 

My cave of molded memories.

 

But not anymore.

I dont want your words, harsh or loving. I kiss goodbye your once so loving lips,

– producing butterflies – inside me – tangled.

I want truth, disecting all these parts wearing my name.

I want love, but not yours, not anymore.

I want as both to be whole again, seperatly.

 

copyright (c) 2014, by franzad.

fleeting moment

Bumping in and out of moonlights,

i can feel Orions belt puncturing my skin.

beneath the crickets song –

i hear your soft laughter –

runnig till the world is ending,

skinny-dipping into wet proportions –

patterned black and blue –

the deep is raising goosebumps up my spine.

 

I am among dripping riots,

forward, forward till the yearning stills.

– the red and lilac next to my ear

– and grassy footprints on my bare feet,

breathless in the morning – light

 

copyright (c) 2014 by franzad

written for OLN by dVerse

 

yet for you…

i could never dance

nor love

nor write

enough, for me to express

so very properly the feelings

i hold most dear.

 

yet for you –

i try the speech of men.

 

words stumble with dear intent,

along my tounge to breach

– my bottom lip –

grazes yours, to reveal

– the trembling letters –

slowly crawling upon your theeth.