Tuesday, 26 November 2013

A fantasy

So here I am.
It's that moment I've been waiting and dreading long before I knew it would actually be true.
You're gone and the first snow started falling outside as you were taking off.
I'm watching it through the glass of wine that Mr. Cohen is sharing with me. He opened up a bottle and told me: "Do not say this moment was imagined, do not stoop to strategies like this."
Be my white paper and let me pour the idea of you in this fantasy. I will do it slowly. Tenderly. Like I'd pour the wine.

I've been subconsciously, secretly, foolishly and shamelessly wishing you would somehow restore my faith in fantasies and surprise me by coming here.
That you would suddenly appear in a place you knew I would be at a given time.

I dream of how my knees would weaken and I couldn't even look you in the eyes so that I could keep it together, pinching myself in speechless dazzle...

But you would really be there. With your scent and your whole being.
In front of me.
Waiting for me at the table.
Watching in amusement how the ground shakes underneath my feet in disbelief.
You would drink tea and I would hide my face behind the cup, shying away from your eyes because you caught me off guard.

...I would burry my nostrills in your shoulder to believe that you're here, melting piece by piece, minute by minute in your halo.
Would we act like strangers? Would I be distant?
Would we be warm? Would you hold me close?
Maybe I will never know.
Maybe I already do...

I would take you where the streets have no name in the night, just to get lost somewhere with you in a secret place we've both been before in the mind, yet never actually together.

But here we are now.
For real.
So real it feels illusive.
Hearts racing in the dark, blood pumping in my chest.
I would take an instant to watch your glare in the night's light as I lean against the window above the city.
I would drink it all in... the sweet pain of lust along with your warmth in my arms. Your hands locked in my hair and my breath lingering on your skin. Pulling you closer to my mind, to the beat of my soul, to all the unspoken words I could never tell you, bursting out of me now through each pore of my skin.

You would be for once on the same time zone with me, passing away another sleepless night by my side, yet this time holding me close and sealing my lips with silence.
Would you really be there? Lost with me in a room we knew we shouldn't be in, drawn by the forbiden itself, by the growing burning inside the veins, stealing each second of the dark, biting it away in kisses that couldn't feed such hunger. I would melt away in a serenity I forgot I ever knew. You would burst me up in flames I would burn you with, only to end up flowing in silent waters of ease... The fog would cover us, trying to hide us from the morning and the end of a night about to become a memory already.

After all of it I'd be wondering if it was ever real or not.

Yet there it is: a piece of you wrapped around my wrist. A constant reminder of you each and every second till I will bring it back.

I would write it all just for the sake of an impossible story.

"I like to write about the possibility of us everywhere, anywhere if only to make it possible somehow, some way, even if there was never a possibility for us to begin with."

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Sunt o hateriță

Exact.
O hateriță.

De ce? Pentru că mi s-a făcut lehamite de toate pozele alea cu citate din bloguri românești și textele ,,de profunzime” despre viață și amor.

Bă, mă lași...

Nu am absolut nimic cu scriitorii în cauză, fiecare e liber să se exprime.

Am ce am cu consumatorii lor.
Cu masa aia care pune botul la articole ieftinuțe și ușor de digerat.

Cu semi-corporatiștii veșnic ocupați și grăbiți care își caută niscaiva hrană spirituală în textele de duzină. Nu au timp să aprofundeze nimic, așa că se refugiază în filosofii de viață semi-preparate, iau o filosofie-șnițel, o bagă la microunde și o înghit ca atare.

Marfă de supermarket pentru toată lumea, la prețuri pentru toate buzunarele. Ba nu. Nici măcar pentru toate buzunarele... Moca!

N-ai decât. Citește texte scurte și facile despre relații, viață și dragoste, dar mi se pare jenant să recunoști în public că ești consumator de așa ceva. Și să le mai dai și share.

Și, băi frate, sunt mulți. Și mândri. Știi cum e aia, că dacă nu e și fudul...

A, și ca să nu fac discriminări, am ceva și cu autorii blogurilor care țin la proprietatea intelectuală pe care o consideră nouă și originală. Țin morțiș să fie citați (cu sursă și link, în pana mea) de parcă ce spun ei acolo ar fi ceva nou.
Nu e nimic nou.
Sunt doar niște rezumate ale unor idei pre-existente, formulate facil pe înțelesul tuturor.

Poate n-ar fi rău să-și arunce ochii pe clipul de mai jos.

(Da, știu, are juma de oră clipul.
Ia un pic mai mult decât un articol tip ,,blogu' lu' Sergiu G. Arsenic”...
Poți să dai skip totuși la 20:50 și să vezi de acolo.)