"How About If I Sleep A Little Bit Longer And Forget All This Nonsense."

"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense."

Franz Kafka, Metamorphosis.

(Artwork by Liza Sivakova.)

We're together but each one of us is pulled back by the dogs of isolation. The desperation for touch, for speech is crisp but the silence is conquering. We sit disconnected, we sense our words and phrases falling short of dare and of significance. We look at each other but our eyes are clouded, blinded by the black mist of misunderstanding. I look at you and you at me, we are mere discoloured postcards, ripped love letters, both of us are clinging on something that's driving us astray. We're together but we're so lonely. Your eyes have their unfinished passion and mine are brim of affection. But none of us dares to come closer or to set the tongue free. We sit: silent, self-centred, singular, and sinuous, as we let these small misunderstandings, grouping, winning, and seizing vain victory. You look at me again and I at you, our wrong silence is bleeding for speech, for liberation, for communication.

@kafkaesquebibliomaniac

(Artwork by Joseph Lorusso.)

"I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity."

-Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena-

(Artworks by Kim Young Hun.)

-The Diaries of Franz Kafka 1910-1923-

(Bronze Sculpture by Fredrick Raddum.)

Stars, Scars and Repairs:

The starry night looks incomparable tonight

And it reminds me of your face

Full of interstellar details.

Details I was ready to sort them out

And memorise them for eternity.

But here I am now, all by myself,

Stargazing and hurting.

For I never never ever thought that

Your realest face would turn

Into a mere fiction.

An image in the back of my mind

Depending on occasions, fleeting moments

To be remembered to reality.

Nevertheless, I stargaze and hurt

To remember you so that I forget you.

@kafkaesquebibliomaniac

"It would be grander, it would be more proper, if I quite simply placed myself at the disposal of fate, making no claims. But I can not; it’s the only thing I can’t do."

-Hermann Hesse, Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair.-

(Artwork by Thomas Alen Kopera.)