Searching for Yang

I’m looking for Yang.

He’s in there somewhere.

I just need to find him.

Nurture him.

Make him the half that he’s meant to be.

Yin’s been taking up too much room.

She needs to be put back in her place.

Yang, come back – I miss you.

 

Exertion of will

 ”Exerting your will” is how you let other people get to know you.

Not power games, just things like “I really like Chinese food” or “We should go to this great exhibit I’ve been wanting to see”.

If you don’t put yourself on the line a little bit, if you always hold back what you think or how you feel (even if you’re not consciously holding back, but instead just thinking that your opinion doesn’t matter or isn’t important), you’re to some extent refusing to share yourself with others in ways that can be healthy and necessary for relationships.

Sometimes you just need to take a deep breath and start dumping all the internal thoughts onto people, just as a courtesy, really.

How are they supposed to know what you want or who you are, if you never share any of that with them?

(Occhiblu)

Socks

I’m wearing your socks,

Your trousers lie on the armchair,

Pieces of your life are all around me,

You’ve been woven into the tapestry of my existence.

Yet, you’re not here, like an imaginary friend, I feel like I could touch you.

The remnants of the night linger, a bad taste in my mouth, a familiar and unpleasant feeling.

Was I right or was I wrong, it doesn’t matter any more, you said your part, you can’t be wrong and I’m easily dealt guilt.

 

Плоть и кровь

Позвольте мне предупредить, есть камень, где мое сердце должно быть.

Я эмоционально неполноценным, отсутствие реальных чувств.

Так мне сказали.

Так что они уже сказали, есть что-то c моей головой.

Бескорыстный и расплывчатым, непрозрачные, косые, мрачным.

Честно говоря, у них есть это право, так это было.

Тем не менее, я понял, что я человек в конце концов.

Плоть и кровь, где он был – камень холодный.

The Bull and the Bear.

Hedging happiness, the bets are on.

Should I want less, will I need too much?

What losses could I incur?

What’s the risk?

Will the markets be favourable?

My shares could rise, a profit could be made.

All I have to invest is a part of my soul.

A high return but what if there’s a crash and the indexes plummet?

However, the economy’s booming.

Vereinigung der Gliedmaßen

Manchmal wünsche ich mir, dass ich sterben würde, um so in deinem Geist unsterblich zu bleiben, immer schön, immer jung.

Es gibt Momente, wenn ich dich berühre und du mich berührst, da weiß ich nicht, wo ich anfange und du aufhörst, Meine Arme in deine wirren, eine nie endende Vereinigung der Gliedmaßen, des Körpers.

Wenn ich dich nicht sehe, spüre ich dich, lebe für dich. Geschichten sind wild und Blitzen durch den Kopf, und du tuhst die grausamsten, härtesten Dinge, und die schönsten und tiefsten Dinge – dann tust du nichts, ich sehe dich, und alles macht wieder Sinn.

The day I nearly

It was a long night, popped my tenth – 2 halves, white, within the space of an hour.

We’d go walking then, on the top of O’Connell Street, on the the patches of green, and the morning traffic passing by.

Lolling like lolly pops on the grass, giggling and gurgling.

Suddenly, there was a seriousness inside me. I saw everything clearly, like a flash of clarity in an otherwise hazy mind.

I stood up, looked up the road, wondering why I could see everything so sharply.

Then came the pain, it was like a bolt, an electric shock down the left side of my brain, through my body. I buckled, like a fist had hit me in the chest.

I came up for air, shocked, tried to ignore it. It happened again, more intense than the first time, I went down on my knees.

My head started to swirl, my body rolled, I sat down on the steps of an old Georgian house.

I looked at my friend who was oblivious to my predicament, I didn’t want to tell him. I said “I don’t feel so well, let’s go back to the house.”

I felt the pain in my chest, barely able to walk. A sense of outright panic under the surface, a contorted smile on my face.

We walked to the house, I couldn’t go any further. I sat on the step and gasped for air, electric convulsions going through my body.

“Let’s go home” – I sat and waited for a taxi to come and the rest of my friends to come out. They were laughing and gurning like lunatics. “Are you alright? You look a bit pale…” and me, “I’m fine.”

I got into the taxi, laid my head back, got another convulsing pain in my chest, buckled forward, breath knocked from my lungs.

As if by divine intervention, I saw the sign of an A&E to St. Vincent’s, I meekly said to the taxi driver “please drop me at the hospital, I don’t feel well”

I climbed out of the taxi, friends with concerned glances at each other. I managed to walk to the A&E door, having lost the abilty to talk, I just stood there, a nurse looked over at me. I beckoned, then collapsed on the floor.

The next thing I know is I’m being carried by doctors to a hospital bed, clothes stripped off. White stickers on my chest and belly, ECG machine, bleep, bleep, bleep.

“What did you take?” – Answer.

“Is it serious” – yes

Curling up my knees, warmth of bed and resignation. There’s nothing I can do now, just close my eyes. Slap on my face, a rough voice, “wake up!”

“You can’t sleep, you may lose consciousness, you have to stay awake”

My eyes were heavy, I felt hot and warm, and cold and so, so, tired.

Panic gives way to exhaustion.

Unión de las extremidades

A veces me gustaría morir, para ser inmortalizada en su mente,

Siempre bella, siempre joven.

Hay momentos en que te estoy tocando y me estás tocando, no sé dónde comenzar y terminar,

Mis brazos enredados en la tuya, una unión sin fin de las extremidades, de cuerpo.

Cuando no te veo, te siento, vivo para ti.

Las historias son salvajes y el flash a través de mi cabeza. Tu haces la más cruel y más dura de las cosas. Tu haces las cosas más bellas y más profundas. Entonces tu no haces nada, te veo, y todo tiene sentido otra vez.

Una noche en Amsterdam

Corrimos furiosamente juntos en Amsterdam, donde las prostitutas mover a medida que pasan las ventanas y el humo hace reír la gente y paranoico.

Hubo una serie de extraños acontecimientos, psychadelic y translúcido.

Estamos en condiciones de servidumbre en el balcón, ya que arrojaron botellas vacías a una carretera vacía – gritando, ya que se estrelló.

Marilyn Monroe (¿o era Madonna?) arrastrados por el cristal roto. Nos aullaba como niños, no importa el daño que podría haber hecho.

No le importaba mucho en ese entonces.

Más tarde, una señora gorda se levantó de su cama – ambulancias y camiones de bomberos en fila afuera. Colgamos nuestras cabezas y silbó a los hombres de uniforme. Era tan gordo que no podía levantarse de la cama – y no, verificado con otros testigos, este sueño no era – fue esta noche loca, llena de acontecimientos.

Te vi un par de años más tarde – que pareció sorprendido de verme, frente a mí mientras caminaba a través de la puerta. Instinto creo que fue … y fue el instinto que me hizo la pregunta de su mirada. Usted tuvo un gesto de molestia en los ojos, la vergüenza, como si desea que no estaban allí. Me dijo hola, le dio una respuesta corta y forzó una sonrisa. Me di cuenta de sus ojos habían cambiado y el labio parecía dolorido.

Yo sabía que algo estaba pasando … y así fue.

For K

We ran amuck together in Amsterdam, where the prostitutes wiggle as you pass their windows and smoke makes people giggle and paranoid.

There was a series of strange events,
psychadelic and transluscent.

We bonded on the balcony, as we threw empty bottles on to an empty highway – screaming as they crashed.

Marilyn Monroe (or was it Madonna?) swept up the shattered glass. We howled like children, didn’t care about the damage we could have done.

We didn’t care about a lot back then.

Later, a fat lady was raised from her bed – ambulances and fire engines lined up outside. We hung our heads out and wolf-whistled at the men in uniform. She was so fat she couldn’t get out of bed – and no, I verified with other witnesses, this wasn’t a dream – it was this crazy, eventful night.

I saw you a few years later – you looked shocked to see me, facing me as I walked through the door. Instinct I think it was…and it was instinct that made me question your glance.

You had a look of discomfort in your eyes, shame, like you wished I weren’t there. I said hello, you gave a short reply and forced a smile. I noticed your eyes had changed and your lip looked sore.

I knew something was up…and it was.