RSS Feed

Tag Archives: suspicious

“the darkness that she sings for me” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

i am in love
with the woman who sings and
becomes the background
of my every night.

i like to listen to her voice
as she takes my every second
keeps it out of my reach,
teaches me some really suspicious ways
to keep myself safe from the her demons.

she glows in the darkness that she sews
only for me,
for me to hold her hand the way
she will never be held,
the way i will never be held.

i hate to cry,
i have cried for a long time
for people who called me their option
when i was out of earshot
my tears are cheap, now all they do
is make me feel equally cheap
but the tears i shed for her life are beautiful
the tears i shed for her (who feels like me)
stops me from taking pills i don’t need.

another lover of hers sat opposite me few days ago.
she looked so much like her.
it made me wonder if i looked like her as well.
i wonder she knows her lovers are running amok
in the world that she paints with her pain.
i wonder if she knows that we are catching all her fears,
staying away from guys who speak like her ex,
staying away from the patterns she has pointed out.

i wonder if she knows
that we tell strangers “she sings well, she writes well”
when we want say
“she made me embrace the woman in me
that i have been trying to kill for a long long time.
she stood in my moonlight
counting all the daggers that make her bleed every day,
the same daggers that i fear to acknowledge,
telling me about the exact number of days it takes to collapse again,
about the face, her heart, and her womb that are for anyone’s taking,
about her rage, her mind, and her will that she was allowed to keep.
how she wanted to give up last night.
how giving up can become a concept of life every easily
but she didn’t want that,
because she didn’t want to be
the sad pathetic corpse of the woman
that the world said she would eventually be.”

i am in love with the woman
who wants me to be more than a silent background.

“Luminous” – Nayana Nair

The night doesn’t quite reach my land.
There are columns and mountains of light
that my people have given themselves to.

I never roll down my windows.
There is a scent of death in the air.
I don’t want to remember
how burning is painful.

In my mind I run towards the memories
of my perspective correction classes.
I pick out a card, a line that works the most
“burning is luminous”.

Yes, burning is lumious.
Burning is magic, burning is beautiful.
It is beautiful as long as I don’t hear the cries
of one being burnt. It is magic
as long as I don’t ask
for confirmation of my worst fears being true
from the others who never open their windows.

There is red in the news no one talks about,
there is red in the names that disappear over night,
there is red splattered inside the world in my head
but the world is suspiciously clean even when all I smell is death.

When I close my eyes, it is never dark.
Something burns before me, I am always aware of it.
I wonder if I would ever know sleep again.

“Cheap Literature” – Nayana Nair

Don’t ask which part of me
are easier to love.

I have tried so hard
to become someone who cannot be be loved
without effort or tears.

My faith in love,
my faith in those who love
or it’s absence
is not so difficult to explain.

Clue: Every pop song that leaves you in shambles.
Clue: The books that you call cheap literature.
Clue: The lovers who want to get to the happy ending fast, so they can think about and focus on more important stuff.
Clue: The sappy feelings that you are not interested in.

Those who first talk of my skin and my volume when they talk of love.
(I mean you.)
Those who think that my view of the world, and how the world views me
is just a phase that won’t hopefully be their burden for life.
(I mean you.)
Those who tell me about my selfishness, my unreasonable fears, my unstable suspicious tiring mind over lunch as they run their blade over every bit of exposed skin of mine. Those who are satisfied when I don’t even wince as I bleed, just the way I have been trained.
(I mean you.)
You have made this whole process
more difficult than it should be.

Don’t ask me the easy way.
I might just begin to hate you for that question.

“Bland” – Nayana Nair

I heard her again complain about warm hands.
A hand that remains warm, always warm,
so warm that it almost becomes a fault, a flaw.
That it turns into blame, into words that make no sense-
“I could have loved him if he was not so good.
Good is suspicious. Good is bland.
Good is you when you try to be something you are not.
He cannot know my heart, if he cannot be human enough to sin”, she said.
I wonder why I never met them – the bland people
who would be good for my heart, whom I seek in every hand I touch.
Maybe I confused grand gestures, big promises, passionate gaze
for goodness too many times.
I wonder if it is just my weakness, my weariness
that now wants someone harmless to live along with.

“Is anything left of my mask? ” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

in not so many words,
but maybe just really few.
can you tell me what you see?
when i am waiting for my turn,
when i am suspiciously silent,
when i am creating another corner
in this round room to sit, to sink into,
when i say no and get hated upon,
when i am walking away, always walking away.

can you tell me
what i look like?
is it obvious in my face,
how i miss what i am giving up?
how i feel removed from this life?
when i smile is it convincing?
or all you feel is pity?
i want to drop this act
if you already see the ruin that grows in me.

“Cure Me of Me” – Nayana Nair

We are too suspicious
when we find the hearts we can trust,
too burdened when they trust us back,
too careless towards what is ours.
We are too vain to apologize
and too distracted to stay in love.
We have stored up so much loneliness
and so many expectations
that nothing quite matches up to the standards we have.

Moriyama Translations

Where the magic of lyrics come forth...

잠자리의집

House of the Dragonfly

HAEBARAGI

what's on your playlist?

Ramblings Of A Fragile Mind

"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"

dezedusblog

See also http://dezedusone.wordpress.com/

Lucas Dewaele, dagboek

Over fotografie en leven.

Let the Images Speak

Olivia May Photography

Vagando Por Mundopolis

Blog de viajes Travel Blog

Il Canto delle Muse

La cosa importante è di non smettere mai di interrogarsi. La curiosità esiste per ragioni proprie. Non si può fare a meno di provare riverenza quando si osservano i misteri dell'eternità, della vita, la meravigliosa struttura della realtà. Basta cercare ogni giorno di capire un po' il mistero. Non perdere mai una sacra curiosità. ( Albert Einstein )

JJ's Music Diary

Music Tinkerbell

bardtke.net

Just another daily photo blog by Christoph Bardtke

Lire dit-elle

L'oreille du taureau à la fenêtre De la maison sauvage où le soleil blessé Un soleil intérieur de terre Tentures du réveil les parois de la chambre Ont vaincu le sommeil Paul Eluard

Tylko fotografia

czyli kilka słów i przemyśleń z fotografią w tle

The Grand Narrative

Korean Feminism, Sexuality, Popular Culture

Blaze of Obscurity

“The swallow that hibernates underwater is a creature called yearning.” David Quammen

cartifaine

Taraba cartilor de altadata. Nerecomandat minorilor

EPOCHE' (fotoblog di francesco)

"Io non dischiudo nè nascondo ma al contrario faccio vedere" (Eraclito)

rabirius

photography and other things