“The weak are more likely to make the strong weak than the strong are likely to make the weak strong.”

— Marlene Dietrich

(Illustration By Alexey Kurbatov)

(Artwork by Francisca Pageo)

The world, lately, has been black and white;

with a touch of transparency,

in the shape of nude wings,

filled up with empty carafes.

Today, she chose to hide,

while he picked foolishness

over the childhood fairytale, over purity.

She, in reverse, cherished the Parisian sky

and the wrinkles as she smiled.

The true moment came their way eagerly, merrily.

Flooded into their ghostly robes;

into their lonely dawns.

The words failed her this morning,

left her existence unnoticed,

and suddenly she felt the fragrant

coolness of being hidden.

What bliss.

S

The smoke curls up high

above her, fading out in the cold.

Her virgin little heart is still;

and the cruel poison beats

horizontally, vertically.

She chews on the blue candies;

swallows the strike of the words;

drinks up the bruised thoughts

and the whole river;

behind her flesh, behind her blood.

And me, I’m simply there,

switching between Chinese blues

and lovers in Japan –

desire pulls through me

and I search for ways to express.

S