Snow White

I take a little bite every day

Of the poisoned apple that you gave me,

And die a little bit when I do

Still smiling, though, when I see that

You are happy

/

My insides burn, my heartbeat slows down

And ghosts come to bedside at night

Believing I am one of their kind –

No matter, because I see that

You are happy

/

My skin is grey and my hands are weak,

My tears have dried inside of my eyes,

I think that, in secret from us both, I hate us both,

But I forget it when I see that

You are happy

/
When I have finished eating myself

Alive, what with will I feed your joy,

When I have nothing left of me to destroy

For you to remain at ease,

And happy?

/

To keep you this way, I must swallow poison;

To earn your “love”, I must kill myself,

But slowly, so you’d watch me and see

Me lose for you the Love and Power

I was born with;

/

What you call happiness isn’t it, I feel;

And what you call love’s merely greed,

Your power is a fortress of fear,

And those you lead, you’re leading through hell

To a deeper hell

/

Take back the crown of gold you bestowed

On me, for giving up my garland of light;

I do not want yet to go to sleep,

Not even in a coffin made of diamonds

And dreams

/

I’m sorry, but I’m going to go now;

I don’t know where but I do know why:

I want to learn, to touch and to feel

True happiness, not this of your kind,

And maybe

/

I will

At the Harbor

I sail away;

There isn’t an anchor

To keep in place

This that no longer has one;

No harbor can contain

The ship, that’s turned

Into the storm, by which

It was all but devoured;

/

I take with me my ghosts

To sing me lullabies

When I cross the horizon

Into the night;

And I take with me my cargo

Of memories,

Which will not slow me now

With their heaviness;

/

I leave for you to play with

Three souvenirs:

My shape, my voice and the name,

By which you knew me;

Maybe, in my stead

You’ll love them unsuspectingly

Or curse them, perhaps, when you sense

That there is something missing;

/

Mine is a cruel joke,

Isn’t it?

Mine is a heartless test

Of your heart;

I do not ask you to forgive

But to laugh with me;

To pass or fail,

But to do so honestly;

/
Trust that

For you I wait

At the horizon

Eternally

The Brushstrokes

It’s all a dream:

The lowest moments

And the greatest,

The imperfections

And the changes

Made by the mind

To what was by the mind,

Confused,

Created;

/

It doesn’t hurt, really,

When in my nightmares

Hungry demons

Gnaw at my bones

And rip to pieces

The magic heart

That every morning

I find unfailingly

Beating in my chest;

/

It is all a mirage:

This face, this body,

Their existence

And their ultimate

Disintegration;

There’s nothing wrong

With pieces breaking,

Cracks manifesting

On theĀ unforgiving skin

/

Painted over

Emptiness

In thick colors

Of fear

Named and signed

By the artist,

‘Me’ –

Both as a sentence

And a key

/

To freedom