The milky mocha chocolate tinted puddles, match my muddled muted skin. Who am I? Where am I from? Where have I been? How did I acquire the mask my murky soul rests in? So many minorities, nationalities, forefathers, fore-bearers, rolled, into one, pleasant face. And yet, you wouldn’t know, there is not one trace, of who I really am. Read More »

My best friend wears her heart on her sleeve. Well, actually, she had it tattooed to her arm. So that she never forgets to put it on in the morning. Her parents call it her idiot mark. I think its beautiful. Mine is more subtle, intertwined in words posted on the internet. My parents also think it unwise that I share little snapshots of feelings. Read More »

The quantity of my love is great, greater than every raindrop, that ever fell and kissed the earth, causing growth, giving birth, to every smell of spring. My love for you is sweet, sweeter than every smell of spring. including wet grass, buds about to burst to bloom, and ice cream melting down a cone, beckoning the touch of a tounge. Read More »

יפה יפה יפיפיה, את מסתובבת ברחוב, וכולם מתחיל לצפות, לא רק אנשים, אלה גם נשים. כי את ככה יפה, גם לגבר וגם לאישה. הם מברכים הברכה, לבן אדם יפיפיה. אבל את לא מקבלת מזה הנאה. למה את לובשת ככה? ומה אם האיפור? רצית שכול העולם ירצו אותך, מקנא בך, או איזהשהו בחור? את לא מוצג, ואת לא ילדה. את לא בובה. את בת יעקוב, את מבוגרת, את אישה. Read More »

They tell me Prince Charming’s horse is a mighty black steed who runs like the wind and has no fear. The man that guides the horse is an expert, moving with ease, controlling the wild beast with the slightest movements of his strong, agile body. He is late. Read More »

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There is this burning desire to be with someone. It is, that I feel so much more powerful, so much less vulnerable, when there is someone else to share the responsibility and the success. I am so much freer, when I know that my failures are yours, my successes are ours and I can take pride in you. Read More »

The first time I saw you, I fell into your expanse, my body weak, I bent to my knees, and literally sat on the floor, wanting to soak in more, of your genius. Of course, I had heard of you before, but slides cannot do you justice, and the images on the screen resounded flat and monotone, they had none of your fabulous texture. Read More »

He was young, and beautiful. His lips were soft, and the risk was low, he kissed me sweet and slow. His last name? God knows. Way past midnight, the calendar turned, as my world spun, in a new revolution. I took back Tel Aviv. “Tonight, we are going to play have you met Ted.” Thats what she said. “Tonight you are going to see there are other men. Read More »

He puffed out his chest, stood up straight and said, “I am a man.” Which only had the effect, of a boy in his father’s jacket. A little wondrous boy, resistant to affection, because he thinks disaffecting makes him look more grown. He quickly forgets that, without Wendy, he never would have had his precious shadow, sewn, back on. Read More »

A month ago, I sat in a cold apartment, with underwear on my head, drinking vodka with her, beautiful her, trying to remember that other things are beautiful, besides you. I am not sure if you get over people, or only to hope that you’ll eventually forget them. . Read More »

They say real artists expose themselves, in an effort to expose everyone else. Always the tragic genius. Embarrassingly, sometimes, I let my mind, still walk with my fingers intertwined, in you. I let my ears, hear, you knock. Even though, I know, I know, this not a box that should be opened, this is not a place I should go. Read More »

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I wish I, could buy, some seeds, to cut through the, silver clouds, that hang over the, young and the, penniless. There are silver clouds, and they are ever threatening, drowning or growth, ever threatening, drowning or growth. Read More »

אני נופלת על ברכיים, ומתפללת לשמיים: אדיר, עדין, אל תשכח אותי אלוהים. קח אותי, תן לי לאהוב, תקרב אותי קרוב. אני מנשקת את המזוזות, אז תן לי את הצורה לחיות. לפעמים אתה מסתיר את עצמך, או אולי זה באיתי, שאני לא צופה. אני רוצה אותך ברצון רציני, אל תברח ממני. Read More »

A voracious lover, with a need to feed, and no where to aim her affections. She tries ignore them, but the urges are too strong, she held them in for too damn long. Bacchus is her god, on knees she prays, to wine and pleasure, to violent games. She begs him to free her, from the shackles of lust, but he is a god, she cannot escape his thrust. Read More »

Now you want to check in? I won’t let you pawn your guilt, like a dirty diamond. You had me. You had me under a spell, of poetry and music, crinkled eyes, and gaped teeth. A spell of improvisation. Read More »

My house is lived in. There are dried roses in the corner, toys on the floor, and a banana peel too, for comic relief. My house is full of books, many of them still unread, in piles, monuments to my aspirations. My house has a revolving door. Guests flow in and share their stories, maybe leave a scarf behind. My couch is worn, and supportive. Read More »

Overwhelmed, by the vast bigness, lost in language, and the concept of normalcy. On one side of the scale, I am the educated, the privileged, the healthy, and the beautiful. But on the other side, I am the infinitely inexperienced, the morosely mortal, who will one day be the dust. Read More »

Anxiety. Heart quickening, teeth grinding, anxiety. Wheel turning, midnight oil burning, anxiety. Big picture, explosive mixture, anxiety. False piety, concealed notoriety, oh dear, its the blood boiling, fun spoiling, pulsating anxiety. You amplify my conscious life, and make me unbury my bones. You push me to reach, to stretch, to grow. Read More »