Wednesday, November 25, 2015

a

Each time I see you crossing the door, my soul  gets instantly linked to yours
I simply can't deny how my skin shivers just for knowing I'm going to be so lucky I'll be listening to you for some whole hours
How your lips softly move to make my mind unconfortable,
How your eyes dig in everyone's hearts just for the sake of seing further
You and I know you do all of this to protect your miserable heart from breaking or misleading it to the tough roads of love & grief
Tell me, who hurt you?
I bet nobody but Miss Life did it
Those lips moving run after me in my thoughts, my subconscious stresses the fuck out of me thinking about your coal tone black hair
Your brutal indifference caresses my tortured & hot heart

Bye bye mental wealth

In fact, I'd be grateful if life gave me the oportunity just to know you
Sink into the maze of your thoughts
See your lips wet with coffee as you drink it
Smell a mixture of you, cheese and red wine
Seeing a bonfire reflected in your pupils
Just for that, I would be so grateful
Simply taking the chance to absorbe knowledge from the world from you
But, well
I ain't no liar
I've seen you expressing passion
What if that passion was poured into me...?

Let it be

Friday, November 20, 2015

*borrowed from Berlin-Artparasites-

Meet me offline tonight, ‘cause a 73 x 73 thumbnail isn’t enough you. I want you in the highest resolution, in four dimensions, the only way I know how to look at something beautiful. You weren’t made for the screen you know, and neither was the broken skin where you cut yourself shaving and the almost-invisible hairs that paint the corners of your upper lip and that one crooked eyelash that bends at a 45-degree angle. Who was foolish enough to think they could squeeze everything noteworthy about you into an avatar? You’re too pretty for pixels.
Put up an away message and let’s go away, somewhere we can power down and still feel electric, somewhere that doesn’t need password protecting. Let’s lose ourselves and find ourselves in a place with no Yelp reviews, no Google results, no Foursquare check-ins. The distance between your eyes and mine is uncharted territory, that’s a good place to start. Let’s look there first.
Tonight, I want to push all of your buttons except the one that says Like. I want to eat too slowly and argue over Tim Burton’s best film and take your mother’s side; I want you to look at me like you want to strangle me or kiss me or both and maybe then I’ll undo a couple of your buttons or my buttons and how’s that for a notification? I want to be the one to alert you.
Sign off and log out and shut down so we can meet up and go out and get high on fingers touching fingers and tongues pressing tongues instead of fingers pressing buttons. What I want to give to you is too large to attach, what I want to give to you can’t be uploaded or emailed or right-click-saved. Meet me so that we can remember how to connect without a router and a modem and a satellite, do it so that we don’t forget.
Just unplug for a while, ‘cause I can’t download the space between your shoulder blades and I need your back in my hands to remember how bodies work. I want to relearn your skin with an open palm, not a single finger, you know what I mean? ‘Cause what I mean is I want to touch you, not Poke you; I want to like you, not Like you; I want to love you, not Heart you. I want to live in a place void of scare quotes, of capitalized letters that inject semantics, a place void of tonal ambiguity. I want to live in a place where the space between your back exists, where it’s wire-less and not wireless, a place where I can like you in lowercase. Let me like you.

- Stephanie Georgopulos