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[milda-ehe]

[milda-ehe]

[milda-ehe]

[milda-ehe]

Sleep

Drifting.

Drifting.

Drifting.

I am drifting.

Please, drift with me.

To the white, or to the black.

But, drift with me.

That’s all I ask for.

Do not kiss me.

Do not touch me.

Just, drift with me.

I am not even asking you to love me.

Just, drift with me.

You can even not hug me.

Be turned to the wall.

Just, drift with me.

Please, drift with me.

That is all I ask of you.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Makeup

My head was in a white paint.

I could barely breathe.

The white paint was too thick.

Finally, I was allowed to raise my head.

I could not see.

A thing.

Eyes were too sticky.

And white liquid was dripping down my cheeks.

Quickly, the white paint started to dry.

An irritating sensation over my face skin.

It dried up.

I raise my hands.

And touch my face.

White paint.

Yes…

My makeup is done.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Skin Care

I care.

For my precious.

I wash it.

My precious.

I moisturize it.

My precious.

I cut it.

My precious.

I destroy it.

My precious.

I look at it.

My precious.

Oh…

I care for it.

My…

Precious…

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Clothes

Dollie Doll, where are you going?

You are just glass.

That can break.

And was broken.

Under this pretty black dress.

Dollie Doll, where are you going?

You cannot leave.

Like that.

With your fragile body.

Under this pretty black dress.

Dollie Doll.

You broke.

It is just shards.

Under this pretty black dress.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Bed

Every corner.

In place.

Despise.

They or me?

Haha.

Clean.

In place.

Lovely.

They or me?

Not me, not me, not me.

Jump.

Roll.

Not in place.

Despise?

Or lovely?

Not me, not me, not me.

But I should.

I should, I should, I should.

Oh…

Goodnight.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Water

I choke on water.

Everytime I drink.

My throat is sore.

I just want to drink in peace.

But I cannot, I cannot…

Instead I choke.

I choke, I choke…

I cough… 

I cough…

Wishing I was coughing blood.

Wishing I was thirsty to death.

But I drink.

I cough.

And I choke.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Clock

Tick, tack.

Time is running.

Run, run, run.

Tick, tack, tick–

Stop it.

Freeze it.

Destroy, destroy, destroy.

Tick, tack, tick, tack.

Oh God, oh God…

Please, stop it.

Please, freeze it.

Please, destroy, destroy, destroy it.

Please, God…

Why are you doing this?

Tick, tack.

Oh.

Oh no…

Prayers will not help.

God does not exist.

Only this clock says…

“Tick, tack, tick.”

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Sleep

I wish I remembered everything.

That happens.

At night.

I wish I.

Did not forget.

My lovers.

From the night.

My lovers.

My lovers.

My lovers…

Even friends.

My friends.

My friends.

Oh my friends…

Why do I feel more alive?

There?

Than?

Here?

Why?

Why cannot I?

Remember?

Everything?

I wish…

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

In a White Room

How much can I tell you.

Before you betray me.

And lock me up.

How much?

HOW MUCH?

This should be a safe space.

I do not feel safe.

I still talk.

Without a filter.

I am digging my own grave.

Aren’t I?

Will I stop?

No.

No.

No.

I want to trust you.

To believe you.

To listen to you.

But how much?

How much can I tell you?

Before you betray me?

And lock me up?

How much?

H

O

W

M

U

C

H

?

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Medication

Take one.

Take two.

And now you take three.

Your life.

Your life.

Your life.

Then.

You took a hundred.

Water.

Water.

Water is your best friend.

It flows.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

In the mouth.

And out the mouth.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Drowning

Oh.

To drown in money.

And wealth.

And all that.

But it will not wash away my sorrows.

Never.

Ever.

But I still want to drown in money.

And wealth.

And all that.

What will wash away my sorrows? Nothing.

Never.

Ever.

So why do I try?

Do I even try?

Am I even striving for the money?

For the wealth?

And all that?

It will not wash away my sorrows…

So why?

Do?

I?

Strive?

For drowning in money?

Wealth?

And all that..?

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

University

This a dream.

To be in this place.

To feel the history.

This is a dream.

History can talk.

I know that.

Because it talks to me.

These buildings.

Talk.

To me.

This is a dream.

From which I do not want to wake up.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Dancy Dance

Dance little dance,

While you clean up the dust.

Wipe, wipe.

Wipe, wipe.

Dance little dance,

While you clean up your claustrophobic room.

Swoosh, swoosh.

Swoosh, swoosh.

Dance with the broom, girl.

Dance away your sorrows.

Dance away the thought

That

This mess

Reflects

Your own

Messy

Claustrophobic

Mind.

A poem by me.

[milda-ehe]

Art

Line

After line.

Shaky lines.

Pathetic.

Colour?

Can’t choose one.

They do not look well together.

Layer.

After layer.

Ah... I made a mistake.

You say it’s pretty.

I say it’s not perfect.

What art is, after all?

Perfection?

Or imperfection?

A poem by me.