just a pretty face...

in seara asta...am avut o conversatie interesanta cel putin, cu a best-friend, totul pornind d la nishte comentarii si invitatii sa nu zik "perverted" but just a tad over the obsessive line. anywayz problema se punea in felul urmator: la o prima vedere, pur simplu dintr-o perspectiva estetica (*fizic vorbind), c eshti pentru cei din jur? raspunsul relativ ushor d apreciat: a good-looking piece of meat...or a down-right "wouldn't want to fuck him"-kinda person. so..let's see, i have been under this impression for quite some time, r u a good fuck? kam asta e standardul dupa kre apreciem persoanele - fie ele d sex opus sau nu, ptr k Da suntem cu totii bi, k sa fie clar. orice s-ar spune cu mult inainte sa apuci sa deschizi gura and even utter the simplest hello, esti catalogat si lucrurile sunt extraordinar d simple...1. vreau sa il/o fut; 2. ...maybe with a touch here and there....maybe, until then friends; 3. definitely friends, no more.... 4. Nooooo Way! Ce mi se pare amuzat la toata aceasta situatie e k in timp perceptia se schimb dramatic, pana la un 180 grade, datorita personalitatii "atractive", sa-i zicem sau....as opta eu pentru:Obishnuintza. God save us from it, ptr ca sincer ne altereaza gandirea in asa hal incat orice simt al esteticii se atrofiaza in adancul ei. ceea c ieri ni se parea ok, azi ni se pare sublim....Si ne mai intrebam d c oare ceilalti nu vad asta ? kand primim, din exterior, o remarca d genu: dar arata k draq! tu nu vezi?

din aceasta categorie fac parte o gramada d prieteni, cunoshtiitze ...even best friends i'd say. so what if the people around r good-looking? what if ur world is so exceptionally oscar wilde-ish and, despite, our living in the gutter, we can't help but look at the stars? what would it be ...a great friend...or a good fuck? what r we to choose? do we actually choose? inevitabil observ cum in anumite grupuri amoralitatea, vanitatea, estetica si placerea sunt pur si simplu k nishte linii dintr-un tablou, isi pierd relevanta in context, si nu se definesc decat prin sine k o pleiada d non-sensuri. si tocmai d aceea astfel d oameni sunt atat d siguri d ei, si se cunosc atat d bine incat oricare ar fi inaltimea d la care s-ar arunca ar ateriza in picioare. any experience, any taste, any sip is a mere...momentary pleasure...and trivial aftermath to them. Only the shallow know themselves.
incet incet ajung la diverse concluzii.....k in jurul meu se contureaza o societate in care orice notiune se dezbraca complet d sens...until it remains an empty carcass. layer after layer after layer...ideea d prieten, amic, iubit, one-night stand, whatever else there is....nu exista in stadiul pur. totul se imbina in incercarea d a creea ceea c multi vad k fiind o monstruozitate....o androgenitate bazata p perfectiune... o depravare atat d dulce incat iti vine sa t afuzi pana simti k nu mai ai aer....k fumul e prea gros...k alcoolul si-a pierdut orice gust si efect... k te-ai saturat d trupurile din jurul tau ... dar glasurile fiecaruia iti rasuna k o melodie veche in ureche. sunt foarte putini kre am vazut k pot fi capabili sa accepte asha cva, sa accepte sa se ofere lumii din jur ....fara implicare, fara remuscari, fara sentiment... Implicarea naste tragedii, sentimentul naste suferinta, remuscare naste fantasme....the only way of getting rid of a temptation is to yield to it, otherwise it will haunt and posess ur very soul.
so.... what are? are we friends? lovers? enemies? ... do we exist for eachother, or is this a flick? i have no idea if life is supposed to be vulgar and aesthetic, sumptuous and debauched... but i simply hope it doesn't turn out to be dull and excessively friendly.

The valentine’s memorial....

When u die, i’ll cover every mirror. What point would they have? I hate seing my crying face, your crimson shade, ourselves as we were and never have been. I hate reflections now that u died. My tears have no reflection. They just don’t exist. They never did and never will because everything is not fine, because i am not myself and nothing more than an empty shell, i long for what u made me into, you and everyone else, u made me the way i am ... you died. I died along with you. How can creation outlive the creator? How can i be when i have nothing to reflect? There is no one to reflect anymore, i might as well be air, i might as well be the wind, i might as well... cover u too my beloved valentine. Could u die for me, so i see what it feels like? So i see what a corpse is like, so i see myself as alone forever. Could u please dig deep into the rotting earth and crawl underneath that dampness, just stay there with urself, just be eaten alive by urself... just have no mirror to look into. That’s why i covered all the mirrors. Because u died, and ur beauty died with you. U need no mirror. U need a black casket, u need blooming white orchids, u need satin lining, u don’t need me. There would be no room for me. There would be no place for my torn self, my torn wings. Because i’ll never leave them u see... the wings you tore out violently when i decided i’d be urs in yet another masochistic outburst. The sweet pain, the excrushiating pain...the pain u see...i get a thrill...the hurt...i longed for it...i wanted you to have me as ur own, and throw me aside, and have me again, and throw me again, and again, and again, and again...until i quiver at the very sound of you, at the very idea that you are near, until i crawl on the floor and beg you to slash me, because i’m urs, and i wish to be noone else’s, and wish to die by ur hand and no other...since i belong to u. So don’t u dare die, don’t you dare leave me alone...don’t die on me. That is my only wish...
whisper...whisper...your tongue to my ear...whisper...whimper...coarse lips touch the pale skin...whine...despise...desire...moan... never love.