Written by Vanessa Matic – www.instagram.com/vmmscorpio
Photography by Austin Roque – www.instagram.com/austinroque
Fear is too simple isn’t it, but validation is illusive.
And I was sadder than this dead paradise, the pink ice stars we walk on; holding hands and plastic high heels that flicker like my nail polish; the fire in your eyes that surrounds us. A reality that seems like pastel filth I do not know if the sky is blue enough when the night is falling. Your eyes said it all, drive me for a cup of coffee because I do not want to go back home to weep all the tears I have left for my lover. I wish I could die by his side in a moment of happiness, away, away from this bewitching place made of commercial love. You should not love me but there’s no one better for you than me. I am here but I am not present. It is as if I was watching a sad film pouring and bleeding through the surface a dark blue now that pulls under my lungs, this violence that drags me into the center of it all. Not in fear of death, our youth poured like trash in the street. Born to lose, a honeymoon cruel and you would desert me in an invincible kiss. My friends seem to frown upon what I do; And no one could find her, she disappeared like a ghost. Weren’t we all just that, a moment we are there and then broken in love. If someone saw us again they would not know we were those people, only pieces of those people. I looked myself in the mirror deeper I could see someone else, someone I have not yet met and she was a bit further from reach at the moment but I am destined to find her.
I knew s/he was secretly obsessed with me. And that turned me on, we didn’t need to be touching.
The lovers held hands in decadence, the dance till they fall, they’re beautiful all. I look for a piece of myself I’ve left in a cloud to begin to rain, to touch a flower and die again. As we walk on pink stars, homelessness and stars; the sky is empty silent. Black as tar, drugs and suicides. Platinum helium laughter; And it’s dirty even the rain can’t clean this. And everything we promised to each-other was a scratch lottery, a half-hope, everyone’s busy. No ones tired, they’re loaded. Sunsets disappear. Souls disappear. I had began to withstand so much I could not know what it was that I was looking for, the crows by the window, the tears on your face; And a name I know, I began to mistake. I want to fall inside you but will you wait for me? The clock does not turn back, the ocean does not stop, I am tangled in a secret kiss; how I am pulled here; dead in a grave, adrift and lost where you tattoo over my name. Soft as you, face and face next to bloom, how sadly the music plays and fills my lungs you would not know. My friends I lose, nothing I choose but splinters to put in my veins that’s where my heart remains. Such things are a curse, and the sky aligns in your eyes that are paler now than this pastel blue; This quiet blue that looks dirty, such as the emptiness across the streets and the sweet the corners of Los Feliz, and Malibu grain and the bad parts of Hollywood, the highways, and the nature that comes before you come into this place. I starve myself for your love, I know I am not welcome. I am like a stranger that over-stayed, and brought you a foreign present. You kept because it reminded you of something that you wished for but could not keep for you lost all your heart inside the alleys you believe are hell and they are nothing, only mere gamble games. You let yourself loose like a street dog and I understand. I do not pretend to be hurt, my throat filled with silence. I will not answer you when we separate, we will glow further away, if you see me… we will not be there. As you said you once you believed in this something, this art lust, this haunting hurt that stabs you when you are alone, you lied.
“Perhaps we wait on such endings, there’s only all or nothing. The times you wish to die. The times you wish to be by someone’s side. The times you cannot look love into its eyes. The times you have become your own ghost lost into the possibilities, sleeping, working, wanting, wanking, fucking…”
The poet said I just want to die in love.
A milk dove in a blank white sky bleeding in mid-flight, fallen like an angel on the steps of gray yard hell. Even Elvis died fat taking a shit. I am tired, do not look for me; a vacant smile and love in-betweens. Lovers that drove me apart, a silent image of my heart in the deepest blue. A love made for only you. And I became sick. Sick as the stale taste of like. What is to like, I like my car, my shoes, my new Gucci bag, my 45 dollar salad. Update Facebook, update stupid hot tacky photo in a pile of a hundred more, check Instagram, like everything to connect to something, I like a musician on tour he hits me on dm, I’m not interested, we’re not interested, dead gulp of glitter turns ash and fade. Yesterday. And yes I fucked up too when you were cruel. It is a game of faithless mirror heads reflecting our ugliness. We glow from screens not the sun. And love is another dream and another one, till absolute nothing. The meaning of money, temporary highs, fill me with so much pain that now I believe in happiness, till happiness is something simple like “you look beautiful in this light” And I don’t believe you for all the wrong turns you’ve made, and you don’t believe me because you gave me what you said is you but I do not know how to take it. I take it like medicine, please release me from my psycho anxieties and nervousness that exists when I let you haunt me. Me who can be colder than you, me that allowed to be held warmly as if you are a blanket. Know I am pure as snow, I dissolve as snowflake, betrayal always makes everything end. Perhaps we wait on such endings, there’s only all or nothing. The times you wish to die. The times you wish to be by someone’s side. The times you cannot look love into its eyes. The times you have become your own ghost lost into the possibilities, sleeping, working, wanting, wanking, fucking, laughing, crying, and then you keep nothing. Memories of lovers like Polaroid scars you threw away but cannot forget when you close your eyes. Believing in right and wrong turns and u turns, they lead you nowhere. War, Snapchat, pornography, no love, easy rapture, tomorrow’s you die in, politics like whores undressing and dressing. To what is desire?! 100+ selfies and still imperfections despite someone else, there is always someone else. If we keep looking, we keep roaming. More exercise, more therapy, more drugs, sedate me with your sadness it’s always written in your eyes. Fuck me all the way like you think no one has before. I who have fucked myself senseless; That I am blind and now we post our vacant eyes. Like, like, like, and we are shredded data little ant dots. Cremate me shoot me into space. And I still believe in fairytales, say you love me before I die. Make me believe even if lie. What a life, what a high, a passive aggressive suicide. Sing, sing for me a two sided butterfly-blade.
The old men said hold your balls before they begin to sag. And the old ladies held their tits up like cups of milk. Everyone remembered when they were young. The world still had laughter in it.
I do not want love if it is not forever, I do not want the empty sorrows and the moments that will only break apart; like a half dream. I desire an endless death, I desire all that is eternal. I desire the ultimate seduction, for the romance of witchcraft. The simplicity in growing inside of love, like a flower to the sun and rain. The roots of nature where we are stripped off temporary highs and begin to understand what it is to build your own reality, one which your dream is longer than the world. I want to love you more than the universe, believe me there is nothing else only us. It is empty silent, the sky stares down and you are all I need. If you feel like me walk closely, walk besides me. How many times have we walked apart like two rats that bit each others tails till they tasted the crap and blood of our flesh rotting, and we missed each other. We didn’t know how to say the good things, because the beautiful became ugly parts of what our bitterness created. We look at one another as if children, I love you, I hate you is almost the same. How many lovers will we drown this way, and I hoped to whatever ‘’god’’ was that he would not greet me with such solitudes. I could dance my life away, be blind and see nothing, no one. There’s all our friends again, they keep pushing new magic into my lungs; Perhaps I am broken and cannot be fixed, and perhaps I just want my heart to skip irregular so it is too fast. An explosion of 1,000,000,000 fireworks in the body till the eyes burst, gloss tears and all and absolute death. Who wants to die in their sleep after-all?
“How many lovers will we drown this way, and I hoped to whatever ‘’god’’ was that he would not greet me with such solitudes. I could dance my life away, be blind and see nothing, no one.”
We die in strange ways. Some death are not even real.
We do not believe in violence, we live in dangerous times. Nature is violent so is human nature. We live in scar tissue reused till it is thick no emotion cuts through, we want music to save us but they made melody for broken hologram garland light crowns made from screens that blue our skin; Nature is forgotten in rapid manipulation, we call for love but forget the name. I have so many anxieties it is as if the whole world comes knocking but I do not care about it seeing me at my worst; Yet something inside of me carries itself with such surrealism that the reality is a present contrast of illusions that dance in the frame of shiny windows. And they do not obey my mind, nor stop when I say. Live dangerously, and live with love not comfort. There is most magic in strange beginnings. There is true fantasy. To let down a poet is to let down an angel and perhaps the fallen angel is not more evil but too sad to care about the stars in the dark sky. Sex and sound. I hear you soft yet it is super loud. Crushing orgasm under counterfeiter love. I felt myself disappearing like a ghost, transparent; Moving like a hologram into another world, filled with hula swinging palm trees and sea breeze. Knowing I’ll miss parts of me I’ve left behind, parts of me left in you. Even if it is only a fragment lost in those blue eyes that drown me. That’s where the endless summer will bring me. A Malibu perfume view, where the sky is alive with pastel fire. Under it I breath unknown desire. Just imagine me in the Hollywood hills inside of a glass house swaying in a see-thru pink blouse. Making songs about love that could have saved me.
And I miss New York. I miss old things about places all over, even Seattle.
The world is “The Lost Arcade’’ there’s so many people who grow up in the streets, what is humanity? Play land. We connect together through empathies. More and more which you did together now you do alone. Interactive in different ways. Neon skin, beautiful skin, fashion cheap and expensive, the color red. If it was the last day I’d run to you and to think you would run to anyone else, the thought destroys me. There’s so little I need, and the world is caving in. I want to believe you, but I still hurt from so many things I try to dispose of. Where do you want to live? I want to live somewhere else my love, maybe somewhere all these shiny things don’t matter, I do not know where you wish to go. I suppose I’d go somewhere in a village with strange masquarades, I just watched On The Milky Road and I’d go into this world of fantasy. For I feel the world and its war, the love, the paradise in hell. I sit here writing you a letter about Emir Kusturica and Alejandro Jodorowsky. Contemplating realities and fantasies, like magick and tragic. You never met someone that is not worried. What is time but a million surreal dreams beneath us, our realities seem to be bent. I build mine in your eyes like steps, and no one else can stand there but us. As they begin to drown we sail well. Are you coming with me when the sky falls down and your heart is in my hand like a wild flower telling me you can grow anywhere. ‘
“We connect together through empathies. More and more which you did together now you do alone. Interactive in different ways.”
I’ve traveled so long I want to rest with you, I feel restless. And I want to tell you everything, to show you all the books, movies, songs, despair, and love, that has made me be this way that I am I.
They said Manhattan was so posh, but all I wanted to do was mosh. And it was so boring everyone knew everyone knew everyone and they all had circles. I have no friends but I have no time, you said you’d share your coke and wine. So I sat in the middle of the twilight between the lights between the between-ness of strangers and their lost paradise, rolling dice on the street corners. With some lavender Spanish music playing in quietness of noise. It was so safe now, with the danger of only wars, and primitive society deranging our youth. I’m totally worn out. I am like a howling wolf ready to rip you open tonight, your flesh I would wear, painting my lips in red. Do not stare too long tonight into these eyes that seemed to have lived past lives; They have been taken out and reborn, black dead stars that reflect your hollow; And collect your tomorrow. By the rust of grays that pink in the mornin sky as it breaths in the yellow of the sun. As I wish it to turn tar like your hair. Yet I knew the reptile under your breath was like the scorpio in me, and we could twice scar each other. Let me have the simple pleasures, for I cannot take you sane in the next days. I need coffee, cigarettes, time, time, this wasting of time that raptures my ugliness. Drawn like a curtain of feelings caught by the crowds, even the ones during day; Beautiful and ugly ones, they all become the same. I have escaped into my high windows staring down at the tiny embedded surroundings. Where is the music, where are the warm bodies? As lilac stains across my skin and stretches into the rooms I call for the purple in you that seems to be distant as memory. I knew it was better to plead insanity. For the crazies.. well you see, they never die. They fight like you and I. My teeth were itching. So I made up a method of weirdness to turn into a professional acrobat of broken feelings and junkyards of affection, waiting for some memo to come although I know it will not. Mescaline lit, the rooftops were floating like large bluing jellyfish. Now all twinkling lights reminded me of weeping lovers.
As we grow, we grow in more pains opening the beauty. I smoke like I wish to become smoke itself.
And if I was to see you I’d gouge out your eyes, turn you around, kick you down, and run so quickly you would never find me again, my love. Yet, my eyes fall like cut diamonds, and they are swollen scallops crying in their own bath-salt, endless water. They redden, they close, await for the pain. Again, like a curse this benevolence between us. In the low quarreled semi-vehemence I played this gazelle, carrying ghosts in envelopes. Letting them loose by the blue-beaded towns, that drown at night and begin in mid-morning. The breaking stars that fade like angels, it is almost end of heat. There’s this tranquil coldness, and once you lick your teeth the grains of sugar dissolve like your memories. Where you seem to have a photo that had been lodged on a shelf, sacral platted with some half-artifacts of togetherness. Not imagining ever perfectly enough, for there is no such thing honest. They mused us this way, an atlas of further realms. And he was my serpentine crawling like milkweeds towards me. Till the neck of love seemed to tilt as if cut in half. The other half was not there to lean against. Yet caper like tupelo, his throat an abyss, played like metals his body, ravaged with immortal depravity. A kiss that weeps like stolen tears, when you cannot cry for lacquer death. All that is new again, will never belong to the past. I promise you so much more than those ghosts that bathe in shadows. To eat my own heart again. There is this nameless birth from death, it uproots all pain. Incognito. All life is a separate dream, that attached onto another, and gave up on itself. Began once again as another self.
“I find the neurological intensity of words like the orgasm reflex. Such as fuck, hard, softness, wetness, violence, the pallet of a rose tongue, the veins under your paleness, the exhaust to your tempered fire. It fascinates me, I need more, I demand more.”
Love, comes violently as hate. A swan-down of souls all living as one, and I touch him like the universe.
A synthesis of a back-ward togetherness, post-modern suffered sunrises that burn down your dreams. Those kisses we once imagined in the dark, spoke of as supernatural gifts that belonged to the gods. How extravagant pain can be. Simple. Intrusive. Yet, loving. And you are milk that pours like the silvers of the moon that gray-blue the horizon; Sea-laced breasts. I want to excite your soul. I want to stick myself in places you are not comfortable. I want to touch you like I am touching me. The stars have been taken out of the sky here, I cannot find them anywhere only in my tears; you said you forgot what they looked like and you wanted to see them, so you hurt me. My ears tricked me, my eyes tricked me, my heart tricked me too. I lost all senses I was completely mad. It was love. Romantic as old film, soft, blurry, a fantasy like fucking in the moonlight on your back. If you build a dream can you not dream together in the same dream till all the shapes are perfected into a reality. If you dream so perfectly clear that it starts to build piece by piece. I have exceeded the limits of my heart, therefore I hold a universe inside me so vast I do not know its multitude.
Only poets can behave with complete nonsense. Because how sensible is it to write about dreams and make everyone believe you are sane while you are having an extreme dream.
It is a immeasurable sea of complexity in the subconsciousness of personalities. One can only try to extend their belief as knowledge. Yet, we remain not even a second hand of explained cause. For even one that is the vessel in touch with the sensation. Is in experience within the time far too much to relate to self in perfect harmony. I find the neurological intensity of words like the orgasm reflex. Such as fuck, hard, softness, wetness, violence, the pallet of a rose tongue, the veins under your paleness, the exhaust to your tempered fire. It fascinates me, I need more, I demand more. The gestures of the body. Longing of the further unknown. Climax. Craving. Even your silliness and quietness. Even us fighting like children for candy that appears to be our second skin. We’ve all dreamt of being the seducer so evil, so cruel; You will fuck like ice and swallow everyone whole, they will be afraid as they are excited by such ravishing desire. Maybe you will love forever who said we could not bend rules. You’re so dirty and we take turns. Where have you been hiding when such benevolence comes for you, do you touch yourself in the depth of night? Would you tell me all your dreams or remain the sane. I crawl on my back like a spider-lilly, softening the jaggedness of my ribs. The touch of flesh like white heat. Delicate fingers tease rain. To crawl in your name in a whisper that comes from within me. Be careful my sweetness your wishes for my stillness to be free as you look for the violence in me. Don’t tempt me, I will fuck you breathless before I leave. And there will be no returning from this thief. I always collect what the day promised it would keep. So if you have a heart be careful my sweetheart it might cost you a lot. Be careful my sweetheart it’s more than you thought.
I’m like a tape with the insides pulled out but you can still reel them back in.
In an envelope I’ve sent you cd’s polaroids, and letters, I hope you keep them even if you hate me. We both know how much they are really worth, and all the lovers you have carried are in the many stories I introduce you to in my head. Don’t touch me my soul is inside this skin, and I don’t love you. The innate copy of my mind. Floating in limitless space of all that the soul of the universe is. I know we are only this meat flesh, and we can make jokes about all of us. I wonder how we find the love of our lives, when our lives tonight are illusions of star screens. When the gold and paper is worthless the cryptocurrency will run through the veins of our screen flesh like a new idea. Where we keep living in the beauty of make-believe. The stars are pulled down from the sky, till they are crushed in our hands and drank in the night for glow. Till the sky is merciless, romance and revolution. The buildings keep covering, they keep making bigger monsters, and nature is grave as is the solipsism of our longer dreams.. And we under them are fragile as them that could fall from our carrying sky hands. As we are abducted by alien lights. My favorite philosophers and poets that are now dead and are living inside me. I am mutated jesus. Lizard Mary, bleed. History.
