my robe is made of the heaviest stones
melted into me
my spine aching as
i stand still
in this cannibal dinner
stapled smile ripping the skin
blood mistook for the wine
i want to end this
why don’t i run away?
twitching muscles of the legs
why i devour the pain?
a face beneath me again
I draw a cut line on that soul
a swallow with claws
will eat or be eaten
the empire has fallen
bedsheets torn, evaporating
heat of you
the fortress walls faded skin thin
and my throat is full
of debris, muted
for love
i carry a box full of bullets
while my mind is a wargun
distorted
as anger in a voice
i kiss a mouth of the enemy
every part of me being a battle
where i want to cave in
i walk out a winner
being a killer
bliss or a curse
mute darkness chocking
vivid brightness blinding
all for you
no equilibrium
my petite heartbeat
pounding or staying still
no equilibrium
quiet before the storm
hurricane destruction
bliss or a curse
it always hurts
ghosted at nights
a mind made of stones
sinking into the pillows
muffling thoughts
howling as creatures haunting
a heart made of glass
fractured and ruined
long time ago
ghosted at nights
i sit on the bridges of my bedside
swinging feet to the devils
and i howl with the creatures
haunting
becoming a ghost myself
i scream name
of God
Magdalena, you are distorted
while kissing Judas
i scream name
of myself
Magdalena, you weep in vibrato
ripping all wounds open
i scream name in
petite mort
Magdalena, you are forbidden
full of unconditional disillusion
break my fingers
one by one
they carry desire
cut out the tongues
i speak to you
saliva mixed with blood
language of love
peel the skin off
soaked in scars
lies told to me
rip out my heart
put it on your crown
licking lips
i am the sweetest prey
you wrote your passion
in the atlas of wind
drawing lines on
distant shores
like lover’s skin
and I hear the gusts
scream out in pleasure
i wrote your passion
in the atlas of me
and i carved out
an endless envy
that i never could be
your wind
open door
welcome home
marble solitude
heavy and cold
sits on the chair
isn’t she lovely
all alone?
right hand full of love
left hand full of fear
weighted down
through the years
welcome home
where no one waits
cover your ears
rubbing earlobes
between your
finger
tips
–
do you hear the
waves sing?
–
I used to believe
I needed a seashell
for this
but I never knew
my palms were full
of salty sea waters
–
it carried storms
which swallowed ships
of young captains that
never knew this land
is cursed
–
they only heard
waves sing
Tallinn Poetry 