The Twins


Page 138.

'And I had a feeling I could trust you.'

'With anything.' I felt like saying, with your life, but didn't.

Page 139.

Making notes all the way, something I no doubt inherited from her. For no clear reason, just to have something to hold on to. She still has houndreds of notebooks. The sign of a wasted life.

Page 153.

Antigone, Antigone, all these years the enigma of your death has haunted me. The ferocity of that No you have been hurling at the world, indefatigably, unremittingly. Not just at your uncle Creon, but all of us, all the men, even those of us who loved you, but who have failed to understand.

15/7/06 17:44

Mid summer.

To be constantly desired by others, as you are; your presence forever wanted, your attitude problems overlooked for the sake of maintaining your anatomy within the current time zone.

To be hued down, exhumed from and pleaded for. How can you, how can they lust for you so passionately, so desperately?

But in your world of nothing and in betweens and exhausted secrets, you pretend to never notice those blood-thirsty arms and throbbing thighs.

They all seek your glance of well-planned arrogance, your sweet impatient lips, and your bored eyes. Your private jokes. Your instant love affairs. Your rants of faith. Your tongue.

The cross on which you hang me from, nail me to, dry me under the sun – I am still bound to the wooden frame of you.

Glass Orchids

6/7/06 00:06

You lied to me. You can't even love me around this.

 8/7/06 15:49

Your scent on my pillow after you're gone away for the next city.

Your soft lips on my neck when I plead "kiss me here".

The days in which I live from one fantasy to the next and fall tired on the bathroom floor; the nights in which I point and laugh and cry into the bedspread.

In transit.



לפעמים בלילות אני חושבת שיהונתן הוא האדם היחיד בעולם שיכול להבין אותי.
ואז הוא צריך לנתק ולחזור לחיים העסוקים שלו, ואני נאנחת וממשיכה לבהות בתאורת הרחוב.

כאן ביקנעם עלית השקטה, החלונות נסגרים כשהשעון מראה 23:00, ואסור לדבר חזק מדי כי בבתים הלבנים של השכנים ישנים ילדים קטנים. הלחות העצובה על האספלט, בוהקת מתחת לפנסים ואומרת לי ללכת לישון כי מאוחר בלילה בצד הזה של המדינה.



I climbed up the rope after you. I did everything you said. I followed the rules.

So now we're in my dream, and we're hanging from the top of the world. Two single ropes dangling down and it's late in the afternoon. They'll be wondering where we are by now.

We both climbed up to prove a point and now nothing will ever get us down. I'll keep losing pounds on my single thread and you'll keep staring up and away from me. Up here you can get away with it- but not in the real world.

I look down, thinking how I've left this earth just so you could keep me hanging.

I wish you'd let go, reckon with me just once, but I don't want you to fall. That means hanging in the sun without you.

I love you enough to release my grip, but that means you win this time. You win for good.

Nothing counts when we're on your field. Nothing is beyond my strength. We're not equal. I rise to the challenge whilst you sit and watch. It's always your world and your rules, yet I choose to follow you up that rope, time and again.

So I stay hanging on for now, in hopes you'll look my direction, and realize you've put me in danger, too