letters from june

 -

You are my floating Aquarius. 

I am your Leo, left by the banks.

-

I kept all my toys away,

hoping they’d forget me one day

and live for their own purpose.

-

My room turned me into an animal,

one that’s pretending to be human.

octopus.

-

I’ve spent years trying to tame myself.

“Curb your dog”.

But wild cats know no discipline

nor fear.

They attack.

They hunt.

They kill.

-

Did you see my gifts?

Did you play with their skin?

-

Ink flies on these sheets

like flowers fly to the water.

-

My sadness was long and superficial

but you never noticed it.

-

Planets knew all along 

but never shared their knowledge.

and fuck planets. 

who the fuck cares about them anyways.

-

Can you believe what we’ve been through?

Can you believe I did that?

a child of comfort and obsession..?

-

I was just your exotic doll,

Shipped from the land you never knew.

“2 year warranty -

Free returns!”

-

I’m your Mars in leather. 

You’re my Venus in fur.

-

My name is like a breath.

Your name is like a shout.

-

Crystals. For pussy. groundbreaking. 

-

Static Levitating, not floating without progression!

-

Tired of being comic relief

to your stupid, dramatic life.

-

What I wrote in May

Was a lie.

I still love you

-

Nothing compares to taking a wrong train

at 2 am

to a wrong direction

while drunk

high af

-

Walked out on you.

headed to get “drained”.

changed my mind.

too sad.

got a pack of parliament.

the N, to Coney Island.

stopped at the light,

Houston and broadway. 

cigarette in-between my fingers.

plaid shirt.

your shorts.

Empire State uptown.

you in mind.

New York has been a fucking rollercoaster. 

this shit would hurt

if I wasn’t high on nicotine rush.

-

Take your time. 

I’ll keep mine.

-

My papers tell better stories

than my friends.

-

We’re two of a different matter,

both of ivory skin -

marble and pearls.

მარმარილო და მარგალიტები

-

Do you know why I don’t cook anymore?

Because I used to cook for him. 

That was my “love language”.

Every time I try, I think of those times

when I cooked for him

to make him happy,

to keep him.

One day I’ll cook again.

But not now.

-

If these walls could talk…

They wouldn’t dare.

-

You tried to play me like a bass

but I was too broken for your taste.

my strings hurt your fingers.

my sound hurt your mind.

I wish I had been newer.

I wish I had been whole.

I wish I had been easier.

but broken instruments still have sounds.

we still have hearts.

we still want to be with humans. 

I am stuck in an antiques store

waiting for someone to take a chance on me

knowing how broken I am.

waiting for someone who will feel my flaws

and won’t be disappointed.

waiting for someone to have me.

-

A thought occurred to me while listening to pussycat dolls’ “buttons”: რა უცნაურია რომ “ღილი” და “ღილაკი” (რაცლოგიკურად პატარა ღილს უნდა ნიშნავდეს) ორი სრულიად სხვადასხვა მნიშვნელობის მატარებელი სიტყვაა.

-

ძველი ბორჯომის ბოთლში ჩასხმულ და უცხოეთში გასაგზავნად გამზადებულ ტყემალზე მეტად iconic არაფერი გვაქვს ქართველებს

-

I boiled my tea, took out lemon, cut it in half and instead of wasting its juice on tea and honey, I took out my gin-tonic glass and the rest is history. 

booze makes me so pretttyyyyyy

bufo afterthoughts (august)

Air (breath) is a mean, transmission train to inhale earth (forest and wood) into fire (Apollo, me) and let it settle into water (Lakshmi).

It’s all space, so much ether and we’re nothing. Planets and rocks floating and nothing will hit you because you’re with father.

Mahlakhshmie namaha, you’re with the water goddess.

Hai - name that keeps coming up and flowing in the mind. No meaning, no person of specific physicality.

Blue is all around me, like the sky. It’s all air and matter is dense and strong but not suffocating.

Krai krai krai sound of crows like sacred birds of darkness and male figures. They’re where I am. They are who I am and I consist of their multiplicity while they consist of me.

Sawing pin - I am reduced and inverted into myself like a safety push pin with pearl head. I’m not perfectly round but i am perfectly solid and my tail is of porcelain not metal. I am being white and I am being charcoal at the same time. And my tail moves in circles into unpredictable trajectory.

I am not human only. I am a dance, movement with the lack of music; and toes; and my right ankle kracking like a shell of an egg who was from the clam.

I am so inherently good, and I should not be scared to claim it. But pick who to be good with. Waste is not fine. Even when it’s wasted good.

Hi R, it was you and it was me. It was your true you and my true me and that’s why I keep going back to speak to you. But nothing was real, you’re not real, before you TURN real.

Oh! I’m back to the same world. There are multiple mes and multiple them! And it is funny how this consciousness was sent back to the same body, to the same them.

I am craving blackberries, thick and blunt red wine, with sour juice of cranberries.

It’s all Rachmaninov, Schubert and Scriabin, not Liszt.

bufo afterthoughts (june)

I was inside a pearl. It’s round and clean inside. It reflects what state my mind is in. Its walls are thin and its light is transparent.

I am with her in ancient Egypt where walls are ivory white and there’s linen to shield me from the god of Sun - bright and dark, Rah. It’s her with me, mother, queen.

ვერა, ზანდუკელი, სიცხე, მწვანე ხეები, სახლი დიდი სპილოსძვლისფერი კედლებით. ფანჯრები დადარაბები, დაბზარული საღებავით.

Inherently good.

მახსოვს ხორცის სახსრების სიწითლე და ყავისფერი, წებოვანი სისხლი.

რძე. მე ვარ რძე და მისი შვილი.

თეთრი ქვიშა, დაბადება ქვიშაზე. მე წყლისა ვარ, მშვიდი და ღრმა.

ჩემი სახელი ჟღერს როგორც მარგალიტის ფერი.

Made peace with my name, it is perfectly mine.

The sun was made out of a giant pearl and the galaxy was the mother of sun. 

I am son of Helios, god of Sun, shepherd of seven herds of his pearl white oxen. 

Goddess of forest: your body is like a forest and you are a keeper. You tend to your muscles like the soil, like animals they require to be nurtured, grown, developed, trained. You tend to your joint like branches of trees, soothe them with kisses and saliva. You take care of your mind like you take care of the sunlight that reaches into the forest - let it rest of some surfaces and let it never see the depth of others. 

Your hips are clenched up like a clam wings. They will only open up once the pear is ready to be born. 

You are the most advanced being you’re going to know. No need to be loved. Appreciate your skin and bones.