Κυριακή, 9 Μαρτίου 2014

Rest easy

Maybe, just maybe, if you detach yourself from sad events for long enough, if you place yourself at a certain distance from them, you can distort reality. Your mind can trick you into forgetting, acting like nothing has happened. Pretending that while your far away, everything remains the same, people and places don't change. Uncles don't pass and houses don't  crumble. Perhaps if you act like nothing has happened, you can trick yourself into believing the lie. 

Rest easy Theio and forgive us for not honoring you as we should have. 

Σάββατο, 1 Φεβρουαρίου 2014

Tears, they keep running down her cheeks, there's no stopping them now.
It some how seems that the whole world keeps sinking, it's crumbling you know, and you can't even catch a breath.
"Mom, why does it have to be so difficult? Why does it have to be so hard? There's always someone sad, there's always a problem creeping around the corner ready to knock down everything we've ever built and turn it into dust and pieces. Why does life suck so bad?"
That was the final hit.
A punch in the gut,
knocked her over, she can't get up.
So, why?
Why does it have to be so tough? It's as if the only way to survive is to become cold and dead inside, then things won't hurt, then you won't care.
Carrying fake smiles and laughs around in your pocket, in case you need them.
Pulling out the shreds of strength you're left with, to patch up other people's wounds, to support them.
Carrying through, day after day, till you can't do it anymore.
Or until you just don't care.

Δευτέρα, 26 Αυγούστου 2013

Alive

I've been sleeping.
for far too long now.

I'm awake now, you know?
It just happened, on one more of those boringly idle Monday nights, the ones you just hate.
It just happened.
I'm alive.

Κυριακή, 14 Ιουλίου 2013

My Man.

I've got a man,
he's got  heart like a field.
I've got a man
and he's the light,
and he's the shield.

I've got a man,
he loves me more than I can comprehend.
I've got a man
and he can not pretend.

He brings me back when I get lost,
my love is brutal, his love is soft.


I've got a man who fears no pain,
I am that man's ball and chain.

I've got a man whom I have killed
but he's always back,
he's not fulfilled.

I've got a man and I'm his light.
I've got a man and he's just right.

Παρασκευή, 3 Μαΐου 2013

Like the ocean at night.

It was quiet, just a few souls walking around on their night time thinking, a few kids playing hide and seek. We arrived and it almost felt like summertime, but prettier, there was more in the air than usual.
You know, I come to life near the ocean, I can hear the surf break behind your words, behind your breath, all my senses become alert, they're all there, I can feel everything.
The sand between my toes, the air blowing my in hair and pulling my scarf away, the smell of sea and salt and night time, I can feel it all. I can feel your lips, your hair, your fingers..
You're just like the ocean at night.

Σάββατο, 20 Απριλίου 2013

"And then you rest"

   It hits you, you know..
That Friday night, when it's already way past bedtime.. Late at night and early in the morning.
When you're smoking the last cigarette for the night..
Spring's last raindrops are falling outside and you can hear them through your open window..
A window that's open just enough for that night time breeze to come sweeping over your bed.
And you're wearing his shirt.. You're remembering.. You're soothed by remembering..
  Nostalgia.. You know, the Greeks, they define nostalgia as a sort of pain caused by the unsatisfied will to go back.. Back in time, to some happier place, to some brighter day..But it's not so much a pain as it is a comforting thought, a set of healing memories you cherish..

And then the song is over, your cigarette has burned and you turn to sleep, while the breeze is sweeping over your bed and you cover yourself in that same shirt you wore a few years ago on a balcony somewhere in Athens..
You're inspired, you've been alleviated of the sadness and you can rest now. You can turn the light out and allow your mind to rest..

Τρίτη, 16 Απριλίου 2013

Δε διαβάζω πια Μπουκόφσκι.

Ξερεις, δε διαβαζω πια Μπουκοφσκι..
Δεν ακουω πια Κοεν..
Δεν πινω πια κρασι και δε κοιταζω πια τα αστερια..

Και με ρωτας γιατι;
Πως αλλαξα έτσι;

Μα δε βλεπεις;
Δε βλεπεις πως ο Λεοναρντ και ο Τσαρλς μου σκιζουν την ψυχη και κανουν τα χειλη μου να τρεμουν;
Υπαρχουν πραγματα που αφηνεις πισω σου οταν φευγεις.
Τα κλεινεις σε ενα ντουλαπι σε καποια σκοτεινη, σκονισμενη γωνια να μην τα βλεπεις.
Οχι γιατι το θελες ομως..
Οχι γιατι τα ξεχνας.
Οχι..
Ειναι η νοσταλγια, το μαραζι, που και να θελες δε σ'αφηνουν να κοιταξεις πισω.
Ποναει πολυ την καρδια και το μυαλο να κοιταζεις πισω..
Ποναει ακομα και το σωμα οταν λησμονεις..
Και εγω για αυτο, ξερεις, δε διαβαζω πια Μπουκοφσκι.