memento #8

when I lose a perception of myself
I call my voicemail and listen
to my voice.

sometimes I leave a message too.

but I will never call you,
you will answer the phone and say,
“oh, it is you. how do you do?”

“yes”, I’ll reply, “it is me”.

yet, you won’t mention my name,
leaving me misplaced.

“doing alright, if I may”.


I am not

stop preaching me about humanism
because I am not a humanist
I believe in God
you can’t believe in God
and believe in humanity
at the same time
I could try,
but I will not
as long as history will repeat itself

don’t tell me that I am angry,
because I am not,
don’t see a reason to be
– true,
I refuse to lie to myself
and convince myself
to appreciate our moral values
how can I appreciate something
that goes against my free will
that tells me to be somebody
who I am not.

I cannot.

a treehouse

the riverbank
of my consciousness,
the treehouse of my solitude
where I can’t see myself.
I sit & watch
sailboats of my memories,
they’re randomly moving,
taken by the turbulence.
only You see the pattern
in their chaotic movements.

I won’t get down.
I won’t immerse myself into the river.
I will never blow into the motley sail.
I will sit & watch.
Until you’ll call me.