You are acted on.

My eyes opened like a batterfly’s flapping wings, fluttering through the room, piles of clothes, overstuffed racks, a door too close to the bed, glossy walls too thin to hold a sigh. My body stirred, sensations became familiar. What happened to the steep sandy beach, the seaside caf, the foreign boys who spoke my language? You dreamt it, dear. 

Now look at them. Look at them closely. Perhaps go and peep under their embraced arms. Perhaps blow on them and they ‘ll turn into sawdust. Why, I can only turn my spine. Chunk of wood. Tilting my head back, taking a sip, thinking how bad my hair looks. Are you fixated on the floor or something? Why are you only turning your spine? Fixated you must be.  Forcing my eyes shut, and back in my room. Back five years ago, back seven years ago, back fifteen years and it will never end. “What’s going on, why are you wearing your coat?”. And now standing outside talking about the weather, and praising bad habbits, some bad jokes about aircrafts, sharing lipgloss stained cigarettes. Lipgloss I carefully chose to put on earlier on; earlier on and I had it coming. A barren battle field; swirling angels and confetti, a certain victory against the weak-willed.

And stood and had you introducing me around like out of pity, only to listen to silly jokes made by nice people with good intentions, only trying to break the ice. Did you see what they were doing? Earlier? Were they but just whispering? Whispering nonsense, weren’t they? Love and drugs. I’m thinking of fleeing. Once I remember a begging whispered to me; “Come, I’ll buy you a drink.”  I fled. 

All ambience is now sometimes gone, and turn and look through the window glass, stains the same as those on my mirror, same as those in the sink, and on my shelf; in the quiet, the absence of white noise, whilst life is caressing my ears, comforting my mind from the whispers, I notice them and think of their continuity. And you think is nothing but water and dust. Wiping them off won’t do, for they ‘ll come back, but you enjoy the time in between. 

Oh, no! Don’t tell anything. Don’t mention you are acted on. The answer will only be a distanced, hurried, sorry to hear.

by Valeria Alevra

Unrecognizable places

Unless you consider it attentively, you will see nothing more than repetitions of reluctant attempts to solicit its senses. Is this a child shooting hoops, rewinding a tune with much excitement? Well, look at me, I’ve grown; my hair longer, step quickened, letters prolonged. Should I post a message once again that reads only a hello, and wait for a reply that reads only a hi; only that, I’ll be thinking of a figure that shrunk to fit a child’s playsuit, a lock of hair that was cut to hide a regularity. Look at me, I’m all grown up; and is there perhaps a story that links the two?

by Valeria Alevra

Grow and send

When he’s tired I lose the world around me. Don’t talk, nobody talks to him. He won’t listen. Like a heavy ball of dough, he can’t separate his limbs from his torso, or move his neck; he has no spine. ‘Here you go, you‘ll feel better when you’ve rested.’ Won’t talk to you either, lacks the ability of human speech. When he’s tired I just need to wait for another full circle. I can’t stay here forever. The summer will smell of warm cornfields and we’ll stop at diners on the highway, I’ll tell him that on Monday.

by Valeria Alevra

(Source: walkingonwood)

Daffodils in my drawer

A visitation of some uncertain acquaintance/A wiry lightless place/ Oh my poor bewildered red blood/ yellow glens, wet rocks glisten,/ bulging clouds you pass and water/ daffodils in my drawer.

by Valeria Alevra

In quiet

Illustriously built, the infamous brick wall, sacrum to collarbone, takes pride in what ensues / Escapes the fact that it’s been seen / Artfully now its fall commences, mortar and nails. / No foes, no oppositions.

by Valeria Alevra

Strewn

Strung-out./ Meadowsweet I still smell, behind your mother’s coffee table./ You can not live your life in a room. You can not live your life in a room./ Strewn all over, that memory.

by Valeria Alevra