290813

Tämä on sinulle, joka sanoit Helsingin olevan niin kaunis kaupunki, että sen vuoksi kannattaa itkeä. Sinulle, joka moitit minua siitä, etten nähnyt asiaa niin -- päivänvastoin.
          Tänään minä näin sen kauneuden.
          Haistoin sen sateen jälkihuuruissa, tunsin sen minimetropolin hektisessä massassa.
          Näin sen päättymättömän Aleksin harmaudessa ja Espan menneen kesän vehreydessä.
          Kuulin sen kanssamatkustajien hiljaisuudessa, maistoin sen menneiden vuosien jäätelöissä Kaivarin rannassa.
          Näin ne kadut, ne kirotut mukulakivet, epäyhtenäisen yhdistelmän vanhaa ja uutta, hassunnumeroiset ratikat, alkeellisen kahvilakulttuurin. Kuulin lokkien huudon, sporan kirskunnan kadunkulmissa, humalaiset jorinat ja asematunnelin sielunpelastajien vaikerruksen, kun kuljin ohi pelastumatta. Muistin lapsuuden leikkipuistoissa, kolean maaliskuun päivän Vallilassa, lauttamatkat ja kesäherneet, muistin itkut, muistin ilot, muistin päivät ja välähdyksiä öistä.
          Tänään minä näin sen kauneuden. Seisoessani siinä, missä Mansku ja Aleksi kohtaavat, Kolmen Sepän patsaan juurella, sen ruman patsaan, jonka ympäri en ole kertaakaan kävellyt. Siinä minä näin sen:
          Helsingin kauneuden.

A morning

I was starting to feel emotionally numb, blind and deaf, and a terrible headache had been bothering me the whole morning. I knew the cause was my weeping reflection that just wouldn't stop crying no matter how hard I tried to make it smile.
     "... whatever " I sighed and left her in her own company; she'll calm down eventually.
     After considering for a while what the next step would be, I packed just something to survive for a couple of days, and left. I took a train with destination " capital " --- I knew that staying alone where I was would be the worst idea ever and I anyway felt more comfortable anywhere else but inside that house.
     During the Summer being constantly on the way to somewhere had become something I could really relate to a feeling called home, and so being I hoped that leaving would save me. At least I was already feeling much better and the headache was starting to fade away, too.
     Gradually I started to believe that last night had woken up the dragon.
     I felt the heat inside.

I hear the dragon screaming of pain and realize my heart is now burned to ashes.


Spiders weave their web to save me from myself and for a moment I let myself rest in the sweet, dark unconsiousness.


Through my restless sleep I hear an old acquaintance once again making me an offer I've declined so many times before, and I wake up barely breathing. Lights dance on the steel blade but my eyes are only aware of the emptiness that's flooding into my soul to replace every memory with a truth that is not the one I wanted.


I turn around to say something but constating I'm alone I allow myself a collapse. Before closing my eyes I have just the time to think: I can hear the thunder.

Unconsiousness.
Not the one we usually refer to.
But un-consious-ness.
It's an understanding of "myself",
an acceptance of an ignorant acknowledgement.

It's like being choked by your own hand.

~ illusion ~

Rock was cold and morning dew climbed up her thighs. She kissed a forgotten name and let herself go for the sake of an adventure. She guided a touch to her neck and placed her head on a tattooed chest. She heard an unknown heart beating of lust and tried to find a beat of her own.

Realising her heart wasn't present she pressed her body against a stranger's skin to feel warm. She smiled at the moment's illusion and kissed it goodbye as sunrise introduced a new tomorrow and revealed blood and bruises.

"A heartless soul ", I whispered to the morning sun

giving a puzzled laugh and

finally blowing away whatever still remained of that

ephemeral ecstasy.

~ illusion ~

Mun vaaleat hiukset kihartuu
aina kun ilma kostuu
Ja rakas tänä iltana on kosteaa
kun meidän vartalot rakastaa

Palaneen ruohikon päällä, vihreiden lehtien alla
mä humallutan sut mun suudelmalla
Jätän jälkiä kun kuljen sun iholla
Punaiset huulet ja mä sun ihon alla

Kutsun sut tekemään tutkimusretkiä,
tiedät kyllä missä pohjonen, etelä
Laineet lyö, käy leikki aaltojen lailla,
tuulta purjeisiin, rakas, sä tiiät mitä mä oon vailla

If nothing seems to be permanent anymore, then why does this leaving feel so much worse than all the others?