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Monday, October 05, 2015

in progress

He grabbed my head in his hands and pressed his thumbs on my canine teeth to see how sharp they are. he tilted by head back and and pressed harder, till his thumbs started bleeding into my mouth. he said he'd do that with all this girls, to see how feisty they are. so that if things got messy, really out of hand, he'd know what to expect. "you're a wild boar" he said and groaned in pain and pulled back. He leaned against the wall, you couldn't tell if he was turned on or disgusted. He sucked on his thumbs one at a time, his eyes were bloodshot and so were mine. I ran my tongue over my teeth and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. I didn't speak a word through this whole check up. But the next day, he called me up to say I'd passed the test. 

Sunday, October 04, 2015

Sand Mandala

Over 48 hours in bed and i feel like i've grown moss, its green and hard everywhere else on my body except for around my eyes where it feels clammy and cold like the top of the rocks in a tiny stream...  It's fall again and almost that time of the year, precisely the time of the year i was in the midst of losing you. Despite having picked an october wedding day i'll perhaps forever associate fall with Your synched with the trees' falling leaves, turned into all these different shades and were gone. Let's not blame these tears on my time of the month, or yours, lets not blame it on any significant dates, just that whenever i get sick, like that last time i wrote about you, i think of your hands , your hands carrying a tray, a glass, a towel, something to my bed, your hands stirring soup, squeezing lime, grating ginger. People like you are very rare, people with healing hands and spacious hearts. Since you left i haven't been all that good of a person. I guess i lost my motivation,. I shut my eyes and did things you'd never approve of. I did things you'd love me a little less for with wide open eyes. Like an orphan, i felt justified for when doing something not having someone to look up to. Someone to make proud.. I felt free to go downhill. And down the hill i rolled, and at times i'd get violent and at times i'd crack open with love...maybe you've been here all along, in the sparkle of the diamonds of your ring around my neck, maybe the shadow of your beloved wrinkled hands are working the grains of my soul, making a mandala, balancing the love and hate, the joy and pain, the yin and yang in me. 

Saturday, September 12, 2015


To the marrow of her bones!
reading Virginia on a rainy Saturday mid-morning , over a cup of sahleb, Ottoman drink, topped with cinnamon, scent of vanilla under my nose. 
"what device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? "
My curls are disheveled and have sleep marks of a night of tossing and turning in response to blurry dreams and seconds of sudden wakes. My body smells like the sheets and a thin layer of sweat, unfresh. my gaze goes from the words to the gray outside back to the words to the gray outside. my mind drifts, sighs, and runs back excited, sits down, focuses, jumps back up again..and again, and again in a loop. The sahleb's sweet and warm, like the skin of my man, who sleeps through all this. Who I miss constantly, who lives with me by himself as I live with him by myself and we live passed each other, in two separate bubbles someone has blown into a cool breeze through a foamy straw. my heart is almost calm, almost light, as light as an uneasy heart can ever get. I'd like to engrave myself unto this couch, unto this life, unto thousands of moments of beautiful words and loved ones asleep in the next room. Grounding myself in thousand moments of everyone being where they should be , around me, close and far, living their lives, being well, in one piece, in perfect harmony as I factor myself out. As I grab the black eraser you gave me to wipe myself out and watch what would happen. As traces remain of something previously there. Signs of something unsuccessfully erased. but all those people will continue to hover around, in perfect harmony, i hope, to live their lives fully and have pleasant dreams at night. The dandelion floating towards me yesterday, the thin space between me and the car, with all the power to wipe me out in a second, If I wasn't here, would you please stay asleep next door, can I count on you to continue this legacy that is life? that's content-ness with these moments of gray and drizzle and sleepy mornings and not wanting to get ups? would you continue to love, to love with no shame and no fear "like waters poured into a jar" to want to take the shape of all that we inhabit...?

Thursday, June 11, 2015

Caro Michele

...just wanted to check in on you and see how you've been all these years. Hoping your English is better than my Italian now and you get me, though regardless of language I know you  get me. Just wanted to say that there are bullies on the playground. You remember that painting I did a few years back, with one figure in the tub and a black figure drinking her bath water with a straw? and everyone found that so weird. There are images like that, that pop into my head and no one gets it, because maybe they haven't had the experience of someone walking into their bath, someone trying to drink up all their bath water through a straw. They probably all take quick uninterrupted showers, that's okay, let them. Caro Michele, people have people who love them, and  give them back rubs at the end of a long day, and they don't squeeze the bone marrow out of each others' brittle bones. on a playground where there is no bullies, someone holds your feet like it was a bouquet of flowers and they won't want anything back. They hold your feet because they are YOURs and if you are lucky enough they'll even walk them for you over bridges and planes. Into fairy tales or the imagination of crazy girls who'd like to imagine things like this actually exist. Cats who wait for their owners to come home. girls who wait for the cat owner to come home. hearts that you give out like free food (like nazri), hearts that end up on the ground here and there, like food containers after a picnic. like trash. Someone draws you a bath and you simmer in it, someone else comes and drinks from it through a straw and you let them and you watch them and you caress their forehead lovingly all the way through it. 

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

April 1st in Mitte

" ...but now she curled up in my embrace and let herself be carried to a place from which there would be no return . So i carried her, and at each step i felt her getting heavier until i could scarcely drag her. I was afraid, we were frightened of one another we wanted each other so much ...."
I've been looking to literature as a refuge , as the ultimate solace ...i've been looking to literature to find traces of my own kind, for similarities to my a naive way i feel if i find the likes of me somewhere in the written word, then it's okayer to be me, there's been others  ... So recently in this book i bought in Prague i've found some relief... Its odd how there are things you feel unsafe to share with the closest to you and one day in a strange land leafing through books you stumble upon your remedy, it wraps around you like a soft blanket and protects you from the chill of self doubt
Today i sat in a bakery in Mitte, watched beautiful people come and go , my own reflection in the glass door and the whole of the tv tower , holding the book to my chest like a bible, i felt understood , gotten. 

Monday, February 23, 2015

There are facts i don't consider, like how an anemic shouldn't donate blood. Like you need at least one functioning  kidney to survive.
" do not deplete your reserves"
 i sit and search for the knots in my stomach as if trying to feel the kicks of an unborn non- existent son.  There is a hollow where there used to be : my guts
There's a drought where there used to be: blood
...what am i?
A woman missing her middle parts.
What am I ?
A strange sense of loss
What am I?
An incomplete connect the dots result , with hurried colours sticking out of my lines
Of which children's' workbook or adult's puzzle, i don't know ... All i know is that i don't ever get to water my plants with my own blood and they always dry out and die as a result

" this time  i'm gonna keep me all to myself, this time..."