A bit of mud

I remember when I was able to find pleasure in things surrounding me.
People, friends, lovers, food, alcohol, clothes, going out, dancing, parties, drugs, work, travel, sport, cooking, writing, painting, arts, dating, sex, masturbation, animals, nature, sleep, talks, philosophy, spirituality, myself…
And now? Now I am bored. I’ve done it all. All too much. Nothing enough. Never healthy. Never pure. Never sane.
In some way I think somebody pulled the plug until it all drained out and there was nothing left but an empty bathtub and a bit of mud.

.

June ’18

Pia Petersson

Too far

I know I’ve gone too far.
After years of going as far away from home as possible – just to come back, finally, looking at the outcome.
I know I’ve gone too far.
Now that i see that I have built a base, over and over again, in different places – but never turned one into a home.
I know I’ve gone too far.
Now that I look at all the hearts I’ve been breaking recklessly, thinking myself in love every time – just to realize I’ve been trying to fill the same void over and over again, with the wrong material. Men.
I know I’ve gone too far.
Now that I am back to point zero. And I have nothing here to make me happy and I couldn’t bring any happiness with me.
I have friends, spread all over the world but their shoulders are too far to lean on.
I have experiences of all sorts but none to give me a feeling of arrival. Or a job. Or a home.
I have gambled my life and that of others just to come back to point zero.
My hands empty, my mind full, my heart torn and no perspective.

.

June ’18

Pia Petersson

Roots

A man once tore me out of my base. He took me right by the end of my spine, gave it a harsh, sudden pull and lifted me up. He wiggled my helpless body between his thumb and index finger, my head bumping against my knees until, finally, he let go and I collapsed on the ground, realizing my roots were gone. I turned to see him walking away, laughing. My roots were draped around his head like a crown. And he disappeared and never came back.

.

June ’18

Pia Petersson

My beloved crooked heart

I cannot wrap my head around it.
Am I grounded now?
Have I found it out
-the recipe for peace-
or does my head just sound loud,
handling the voice that my heart once had?
Am I hard headed?
Cold blooded?
Too empty handed for love?
Have I even loved before
– truly, purely, to the core?
Because honestly,
I cannot even recall
the feeling.
I simply don’t seem to know anymore.
Has my memory just deleted it all?
Or was I deceiving
myself
to be feeling
what I thought I felt
and that’s why it’s gone
because it’s all been all wrong
all along?
I am asking myself,
well basically,
I’m wondering what has happened to me.
Did I grow cold
or did I grow healthily?
Did I grow older?
Did I grow wiser,
more bold?
Did I finally start reaching higher?
Or did I shut down
after being a clown
to the unsuitable men
I used to be around
for too long?
Am I just disguising
my feelings
because I despise them?
Or has “being alone”
become home
to me,
so finally
I am no longer in need
of a man
to make me feel at ease
– and that’s why really
nobody now
is able to thrill my heart just so simply?
Either way,
since I’ve been caught off guard
by the changes,
I’ve been thinking,
for the sake of my heart,
I could have saved them
-all the tears I’ve been crying so hard-
if it had been like this,
all the way from the start.
If i had had all this love
for myself
in the past.
.
I see her now,
my little self,
how unworthy
and broken
and lonely she felt,
so abandoned
and scared
and insecure.
She was so lost
and yet so pure.
How I wished I could’ve shown her
my love before,
so she didn’t need
to go looking for men,
in the hopes that eventually
one of them
would mend her crooked,
crippled heart.
This girl without daddy tried to fill out his part.



Pia Petersson

Glut

Die alten Unruhen, die tief in meiner Vergangenheit zu ruhen schienen, rühren sich. Und sie berühren mein Herz und flüstern von Freiheit, in der Absicht es zu verführen. Sie schüren ein Feuer, beleuchten den Weg, der mein Bewusstsein in dunkle Gefilde wird führen.

.

Pia Petersson