Butterflies

Butterflies
only those small butterflies
are holding your skin attached to skin for now
when it is already dangerously thickened
under the trembling blade
And none of us knows or understands
even if we wrote books about the subject
But when you stand there and ask
I will take part in saving you

Someone sings in the radio about it
how the blade brings the feeling of power and living
from what do you run, what are you reaching from the horizon?
I would gladly bring it to you

Those butterflies are so small
and they fade away soon, can't survive through
time, as I guess you can't either
And they don't hide anything from us
who already know how to look
even though something new to see hasn't been born for a while
We could save even the whole world
if it came down to good will
but for you can't do anything else
but to watch you go

And at the same time someone else is crying too
when ways of escape disappear one after the other
and she doesn't know anything about the butterflies
that can do so much

When you ask, we help
and at the same time we can fix ourselves

Translated by Sith Fisto.

The Shirt

I still sleep next to your shirt
though it only offers a very fragile protection during the night
when my worst fears are freed from the authority of my self-control
because even though your scent is still lingering on it,
even though it symbolizes all of that
what you physically no longer are to me,
its power is in my own self-denial
denial state of mind
that keeps my doubts as distant as possible, insane

The phone rings, it is you
I know even though I don't look at the name on the screen
This is your moment, reserved only for you
and your voice that arrives through the air ever so faithful
Even though I notice already from the tone, that you are not interested in this at all
I still listen to the end and pour out everything
that I wrote down to a list as if making a speech
Perhaps if I tell about my loneliness word by word
you can no longer deny me

The mattress still has a dent from the arch of your back
and the bones shining through your skin
In its hollows I can huddle up when my faith in something better falters
and amongst the stains I can cry my tears
once your shirt can no longer absorb them
My self-control is not what it used to be,
it has been consumed by sleepless nights
And ever fewer are the moments
when I can display the theatrical sobs
Self-pity is still my guest,
it has adopted your place now that you gave it away
even though I can't throw away your belongings,
can't abandon your worn-out shirt
It is the only proof that you once cared enough
to keep me close

Translated by Sith Fisto.

Comfort

I still don't know how exactly do you do it:
appear next to me to offer comfort
that I barely even knew I needed
But I still accept it,
my attention-seeking character can't say no
my fear of being left alone can't refuse

Perhaps I have hidden my needs too long
so to not be a burden,
that I could see the signs the way you do
Or I might have let you get too close,
told you about myself too much the way only an idiot can
You fool, my fears are screaming
haven't you learned that your burdens are not for others

True, it is scary that you know me better
than what I do, with the experience of my whole life
You don't say a word,
but your constantly moving hand on my shoulder blades tells more
And soon I'm holding back tears like a rope dancer
only a fall under me
You offer safety I didn't want to need
One I can't trust, so it wouldn't turn into a habit

Are my feelins so clearly read from my face,
even when I turn them away?
Is my exhaustion so evident weight on my posture,
even when I don't admit how heavy it is?
But there's no way I can say no, even when it hurts to know
that this can't last forever

And still I don't understand why you do it

Translated by Sith Fisto. She's awesome.

Evil

There's no face for this evil from within
no description to make it more humane
It's like an endless ocean
without that comforting bottom far below
I can't hold on to it no matter how I try
and it is indeed impossible
when its grasp on me is deadly

That evil rises from the foundations
from what was buried to ground to hold up the whole
and it makes me feel deadly ill
I can't give it a name
and I'm afraid to recognize it's power
over me
But it's all that can define me

Surely someone has felt the same
but human language or literature doesn't confess that
doesn't give it existence, even though that is what it would need
At least you wouldn't have to write bad poetry
to be able to chain it in restricted meanings

It rises from the deep
and makes the days long and dark as sin
and through it I don't see means to end this madness
other than ever deeper depression
Perhaps somewhere is a place where it no longer reaches

Translated by Sith Fisto.

Question

Sometimes I have to question myself
the way I act and the words I let slip between my lips
and ask myself am I still following the same path
I chose sometime during the past days
It should be simple, to tell right from wrong
and even though I can see my soul,
darkened with doubt,
I cannot weight its deeds
not judge myself by what I witness
Why?
Because no matter what I tell myself,
it's not the conscious me who decides what to believe

I question myself more often now than I used to
when I was young it was easy to be confident
and not see the mistakes I made
But somewhere along the way I came aware
aware of what's ruined in me, what can't be fixed
and how twisted my actions sometimes are
But still, after all this time examining my inner self
I'm not wiser
I don't posses more knowledge than before

I try to hunt the reasons why I do this
but every single route seems just as possible to me
who can't judge from the outside
Still those questions won't leave me, I have to know
what's buried deep within me
to stop the evil from growing,
to nurture the little good I was given
It should be simple, to tell truth from lies
but isn't truth just another story,
told with chosen words?

Even though I have this picture of the person I want to be,
even though I have created this illusion of the perfect me,
the route I chose doesn't show me the way
quite the opposite
when I have to build the road for myself
And yet again I fall into the same trap,
begin to question myself once more
It gives me a headache but not many answers
as I can't see myself with the eyes of a stranger
I have to question myself
to see the little I can

Ambition

I've heard several times how I have ambition
how I'll gain a lot and
cannot be satisfied with blue-collar jobs
but I have to aim higher,
use my head
Not to waste my sacrifices and troubles
to benefit from all of this
And I suppose that's how it looks like from the outside
I don't doubt it at all
The one who doesn't know me, cannot know
that I didn't consciously go for anything of this all

Ambition
you confuse it with the desire to please
since I was little I knew that with success you get by and get what you want
And success keeps everyone else content
no one comes up and tells you to try harder
Except for those who want me to cover my joy
the satisfaction produced by my achievements

Going through all the trouble
it's the plain truth, I don't know how to let go
I know that certain amount of work gets me to certain point
I'm simply not able to say that I don't have to get there
not every single time
The only reason I try so hard is the fear
That without success I'm no longer good enough

I don't even know what I want
as I've never been bad at anything
I don't know my strengths either
I'm afraid of making the choice and breaking the illusion
of me becoming something great

I don't do anything else but fear
and ambition comes given from above

Saviour

Can I offer an excuse big enough
for you to keep waking up in the mornings
and pull an unwilling smile on your face
even when you miss the silence of the grave
The responsibility breaths next to me but in a different rate
so that I'll hear its every inhale, like the very last one
there's enough oxygen for only one of us in this room
And I don't know how to move on myself
when the world is like a coloring book
and crayons are all broken to pieces
Lost with the sharpener

I don't know how to appeal to your common sense,
not to mention your feelings
you wanted me to pull you towards the victory
and towards what waits you behind the horizon
but how could I make you move
when responsibility rests on my shoulders as an extra difficulty
All my promises I tied my hands and eyes with
without an emergency exit, should the situation become perilous
I know I'm at the edge of the well with you
which one should go first

You don't want to do it for yourself
but you don't love me enough either
to keep bailing when the edge are already under the surface
Shall we watch the dead together then, when it comes
if it's all we can
I was so afraid of losing your trust
but maybe I should have being more afraid of its consequences
I so earnestly swore I wouldn't fall
or break
So watch now how the strong ones crumble
one after another

Who should go first, you or me?

Paper Is Safe

You call this madness so effortlessly
but do I have a choice but to carry on
until I've seen the bottom of this
with my own eyes?
I've heard there's actually one, deep under
but I've never seen one who has survived the fall

It's unbelievable to you, like a fairytale gone wrong
but it's a hell for me
I know I'm losing my hold of this reality
and slipping into mine, created by pen
at least I can cover my eyes and scream
until your voices fade out

I'm scared but like every obsession
this has to unfold, grow and swallow everything
You have a blaming finger upon me already
but do you think I wanted to turn out like this,
unlike every sane person?

Do you think I didn't want to befriend?
Do you think I chose the life that raised me like this

I didn't seek for a way to be different
but I don't know any other way to deal with myself
my feelings are a handful, too big for my tiny palms

Paper is safe, it's my consolation
which no liquid can offer me
And so far there has been no one to take that burden for me
Paper is safe, it lasts through harder days
even when I can't see a meaning for my words
no one can take these fears away
so I'll have to waste them on words
until there's nothing left for me to say

Until more emerges, that is
There's peace only until my head is bounding with thoughts again
I can't seem to drive them away

So you call this madness
like it was your place to judge
It's a hell for me, a hell of a lifestyle
and so far I haven't been introduced a better one

Inspired by what Bex wrote in her journal. And my own thoughts, as well.