cosmic energy

Although I usually write at night, when the world is dark and there's no light except the moonlight, 

I feel a need to write now, in the middle of the day.

Does Cosmos care about us?

Is our destiny somewhere there, above us, between stars?

I know there is.

I know that everything we do is possible thanks to that cosmic energy which fills each of us. I know that this black expanse in which hang stars, planets, meteors and everything else is present in our bodies and our minds.

I think every man is a reflection of Cosmos. And every man perceives it in different way.

For ancient Greeks it was a symbol of order. And I think they were quite happy and equable.

When I look up, I feel Chaos.

Maybe I'm not ready to accept that challenge. Maybe I don't know my power yet. Maybe I know that it could take me in possession, to seize me. And I'm not ready.

I'm sure I'll be great one day. I know I am strong. But I have to be prepared when it comes a day of my trial.

For now, my power is lurking inside me. I hear its rumbles, I see it opening its eyes slowly. And I feel that the moment of awakening is coming.

But I have to be ready for that.   

madness

Sometimes I feel like a stranger.

I come back home and I do the cleaning. I put everything in a perfect order, books according their size, clothes according their colours. I need it. That order is a poor substitute of peace. I care of it, because there’s chaos in my mind. I’m immersed in a mess.

I sank into lethargy. I can’t go on. Even when I have a decision to make, I prefer to toss a coin. It works. Sometimes, during that short moment when the coin is in the air, I realize what is that I’m counting on. But sometimes I don’t. I let it fall down. And I don’t care.

What are  you doing? No, what are YOU doing? I like talking to myself. There comes a time when I have a chance to do the right thing. I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by. And even if I could, it would all be grey, and I don’t need your picture on my wall. Because yes, it’s so bad.

I knew many people, but you always knew them better. You even know better who I am. And then I stopped talking to them. Stopped seeing them. Because I believed you, because I trusted you.

They betrayed, I’m your really true friend now, they betrayed, and I’m forever there.

You’re my truth telling lies. You’re inside.

Open your eyes. I’m you. Sad but true.

When I look into your eyes, I see a stranger. Not inside you. I see my eyes reflecting in your eyes, and I see that foreigness. Yesterday I told you to look deeply into it. After a few minutes you told me that you couldn’t stand it, that it was like you were looking into the eyes of an extraterrestrial, of an animal, of a madman, of a nutcase. 

And I am all that, I suppose.

don't blink

I love tattoo art. I love to write down on my skin things that means a lot to me. Till now, there are five symbols on my body. And I want to get another one. This time it will say ‘don’t blink’.

I’ve already told it to many people, and the reaction of majority has been the same: frown forehead, mockery in the eyes and even some kind of feeling sorry for a silly girl who wants to disfigure her body. The rest has pretended to understand. But I bet they haven’t.

So?

Don’t blink. Because you are a child, and you spend a couple of years playing with other children. Then you go to school and you don’t understand anything, you just learn and clean your room because your parents want you to do it. Don’t blink. Because you go to a high school and you think yourself high and mighty. Because then you meet somebody. Don’t blink; you’re a student and your beloved from school becomes your wife. Don’t blink, because your children grow up and move away to start a new life. You are fifty now and you lie in bed with your love, praying to God to die before she dies. So don’t blink, because the time won’t stop.

It’s necessary to live immediately. It’s later than it seems to be.

I still look upon the sky and I still feel the chaos inside. Soon there won’t be place for me here. I’m nothing. I’m everything. I want to be everywhere. I want to reach the stars standing on tip-toe.

I remember when I was fascinated by the psychedelia. I was sitting in my room full of hookah’s smoke where the only light was the light of a candle. On the wall there was a giant poster of Jim Morrison. I saw him appearing and disappearing until he just went away. Now I’ve got the same feeling.

I’m in the eye of a storm. In a whirl of colours.