Refuge

Layers upon layers of restlessness,

upon layers of unburnt stars,

of overheated supernovas

and overflowing dark matter.

 

Poetry,

is my only refuge now.

 

I can’t look myself in the mirror anymore,

no reflection is looking back.

Eyes are dried out – forgotten –

almost like dying stars

we only see in our dreams.

 

The rooftop has fallen

on us

and our dreams,

it has ‘2020’ carved on it

and its debris attacks the silence

while we laugh at our own jokes.

 

If only I had time to read more.

If only I had time to watch more movies.

If only I had time to catch up on my to-do lists.

Now there is time,

but no soul to put into it.

 

The sky is dark,

like the inside of my room.

Words escape my mouth

but bounce back at the walls around me

and enter my mouth again.

 

No sounds,

No world.

 

My jaw is broken now,

the lines are blurred,

and stars flicker above me

in the night sky.

They remind me that life

is like Silence:

You fee it the most

when it is the only thing you hear.


Photo: Nikon F75 (28-100mm). LomoChrome Purple, 100-400, 35mm film. Groningen, the Netherlands. May 2020.

Shadows and lines

Lines are dancing on the walls at night,

flickering shadows talk to me.

The silence is too powerful to handle,

it suffocates us all in.

And the writing of it,

brings the sleepless tension back.

 

Can the past hear our whispers?

Can it read between the lines?

 

Love drops in the dark,

and shivers dance on the body.

I wouldn’t trade this silence for the world.

 

The morning’s light breeze

disappears the endless thoughts.

Keeping the mind busy

is all I can think of.

 

Photo: Nikon F75 (28-100mm). LomoChrome Purple, 100-400, 35mm film. Agios Ioannis, Pelion, Greece. August 2019. 

Outside my window

Outside the window

the wind howls violently,

it’s that time of year

when nature crashes silence

and together they march

on our souls’ path.

 

I can’t sleep at night,

slowly losing my breath,

while the streetlights flicker.

Time stops partially,

it crumbles underneath my pillow,

suffocating dust particles

and lost dreams.

 

Listen to my voice,

it is hemorrhaging

stardust and fear.

 

The pages filled with letters,

the books turn dusty,

my eyes hurt, swollen from the wind.

There’s an ink stain on my bedsheet.

 

Photo: Nikon F75 (28-100mm). Kodak Utramax 400, 35mm film. Stadspark Groningen, the Netherlands. December 2019.

The Wall

I look at the wall in front of me

white and long

I stare.

There is a gap

– that numb in between –

crisp air particles

and words unspoken.

There is a whole world

that separates

the voice within us,

plain white

like Fear himself.

My voice is strange,

like the flowers I plucked for you.

There is a wall in front of me

and I stare.

Hazy blue waters

down my feet

and grey clouds

– monotonous –

cold wind caresses my face,

touches my fingertips.

Whiteness everywhere.

There is Silence

and Fear in us

– palpitations –

I try to move,

but I have the wrong

set of feet,

so I stare at the wall

with eyes closed.

Then I heard the cracks of the soul opening.

[Acceptance]

 

(Photo: Groningen, the Netherlands. January 2018. Lomo Instant camera, Double exposure. Instant Fuji Film.)