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”.

the self-discrepancy theory

is there a moment in your life
when you’ll look in the mirror
and will see a real self

or you’ll continue worshiping the mask
the mask that is looking at you
from every mirror

smile

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.

tomorrow

all my pocket prophets
went to sleep
no more prophesies
about the dystopian
future
only bourbon and poetry

tomorrow?
there is no tomorrow,
because it will become today,
tomorrow.

another today
another beginning
as I roll on the dusty road
leaving behind
broken sign ‘the end’

only bourbon
only poetry
follow the wind

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.