Talking Skin

Bread of stick (summer of 2003)

 

You never heard the voice of your father;

He breathed his last breath and never looks at you straight in the eye

You face the reality of the other people alone

Without even knowing who you are

 

I was heading my way to the place of my new compulsion

A space that generously fills me with icing and has cherry on the top

As long as you pay them no problem

In which always gives me a sensation of exuberant skin deep though and I
accidentally dive in to your world

 

You said you never met your mother and

Finally after 20 odd years of waiting

You will be able to see her

You were imagining how things would be like

While the stick bread consume in our mouth

We were exchanging our views with what will happen

How things would be like, we nourished ourselves with ideas and new
concepts

As if we were creating a world that only the two of us will be able to
distinguish

And we walk endlessly, tried to give comfort to each and it was cool

Because everything is intimate and yet very platonic

 

You were extremely vulnerable

And you’re not giving yourself so easily

One thing I have noticed you never look straight to the eye just like
your dad

You travel and manage to meet your mother

And you reminded her so much of your father but

You find it very scary because she loves you the way she loved your dad

 

My relationship with a boyfriend was shaky during that time as well

You’re not visiting that place anymore and so do I

Until now almost two years no exchange of thoughts

No hellos and yet I could still feel the life force

 

I am still flipping the pages of the digital magazines and yes

Still creating a world of my own, that kind of world that we dreamt
about

I am wounded and I need time to heal myself … I’m

Silently fighting and perpetuating my existence

 

The other day I was in the bus station, I looked outside

From the windowsill I saw a spider rebuilding his web

Everything went flash back to the time that we first met

Strange I could not see a face and yet everything was so bright

The only thing that I could see is a silhouette

As if a faceless Jesus

Blurry

 

So here until now probably you’re confronting your very own personal
demon

Correct me if I’m wrong though …

If your going to ask me if I’m doing the same thing?

I survived and vanquished it

I’m not screaming until my lungs hurt if I encountered unpleasantries

Not anymore.

Silence is a good pugilist

Peace.

By

Selma

09.10.05