One day we will take the same train together.
There is at the end of the rails this point luminous which obsesses you, that you look at each morning. You believe that he shows you the way. That to flee, leave far. You speak about your destiny. You hate your days without following days. You groan, you lime pits. Without end. What can I offer to you if is not to tighten you the hand? It is little in your eyes, for me it is what it me remains, I am on the decline. I want to escape to me towards the distance. It seems to me that between us there remain nothing any more. But, I suspect you of wanting to go up with me in the same train. Your words are dubious. Your attitudes are borrow of scorn. However, at the bottom of your eyes still shine a weak gleam as when you were made whore. We liked our tender, our feasts. Then which is your intention? To Leave, remain, today or tomorrow? When will you decide you, finally? Do you give a direction to this behavior which does not have anything pain-killer? It disturbs me, broke ou ecrin. I believe of anything any more, neither in you, neither in me, nor with the divine one. I look at the rails of this train, this luminous point in the distance but I do not see there any more our way. It is inhuman. You remainders, you do not leave, you are each morning there. I rise frightened, opens the shutters, see you in the garden. The fear of your absence moves away until tomorrow. You will see the rails, the flashes of the distance. All will start again like yesterday, like the other days but that does not have anything airspeed indicator. It is the madness of our daily newspaper. Our long fall in a abyme without end. The day when I met you, I knew that in you an imp dozes. It corrodes little by little your destiny. Consume those which approach with your hand. Without brake, we are gotten into the same train. The character of our drift frightens me, unhealthy, it becomes superhuman. I take little by little a malignant pleasure. You know it, the madness gain my body, my heart, force-feed feast. This is why you remainders, you do not leave, you understood that one day we will take the same train together.
Lire la suiteNous prendrons le même train
Il y a au bout des rails ce point lumineux qui t’obsède, que tu regardes chaque matin. Tu crois qu’il te montre le chemin. Celui de fuir, de partir loin. Tu parles de ton destin. Tu hais tes jours sans lendemains. Tu gémis, tu te plains. Sans fin. Que puis-je t’offrir si ce n’est de te tendre la main ? C’est peu à tes yeux, pour moi c’est ce qu’il me reste, je suis sur le déclin. Il me semble qu’entre nous il ne reste plus rien. Mais, je te soupçonne de vouloir monter avec moi dans le même train. Tes mots sont incertains. Tes attitudes sont empruntes de dédain. Pourtant, au fond des tes yeux brillent encore une faible lueur comme quand tu te faisais putain. Nous aimions nos câlins, nos festins. Alors quel est ton dessein ? Partir, rester, aujourd’hui ou demain ? Quand te décideras-tu, enfin ? Donnes-tu un sens à ce comportement qui n’a rien d’anodin ? Il me perturbe, a brisé notre écrin. Je ne crois plus en rien, ni en toi, ni en moi, ni au divin. Je regarde les rails de ce train, ce point lumineux dans le lointain mais je n’y vois plus notre chemin. C’est inhumain. Tu restes, tu ne pars pas, tu es là chaque matin. Je me lève apeuré, ouvre les volets, te vois dans le jardin. La crainte de ton absence s’éloigne jusqu’à demain. Tu iras voir les rails, les éclairs du lointain. Tout recommencera comme hier, comme les autres jours mais cela n’a rien de badin. C’est la folie de notre quotidien. Notre longue chute dans un abyme sans fin. Le jour où je t’ai rencontrée, j’ai su qu’en toi sommeille un diablotin. Il ronge peu à peu ton destin. Consume ceux qui s’approchent de ta main. Sans frein, nous sommes montés dans le même train. Le caractère de notre dérive me fait peur, malsain, il devient surhumain. Je prends peu à peu un plaisir malin. Tu le sais, la folie gagne mon corps, mon âme, se gave du festin. C’est la raison pour laquelle tu restes, tu ne pars pas, tu as compris qu’un jour nous prendrons ensemble le même train.
Lire la suiteThey loved each other
To tighten the hand. To capture stars of the sky to one. To thread in gold pearls on the wire of my love. To deposit the collar around your neck. So that you feel beautiful. To catch the moon. To seize you to offer it. To plunge your eyes in its mirror. To see you, like. To blow on the flames of the world, to revive the glare of your eyes. To be hot, be well. To slip into your nightmares. In driving out the devils, the dragons. To sleep in peace. To take the hand to you. To go to the wire of the months, the years. To be happy. To pass the hands on your wrinkles. To cherish the furrows of my passion. To advance together. To stop the seasons. To remain in summer. Not to arch, hesitate, stagger. To be cold in winter. To fight, resist. To Fight. To leave together. With this sentence on our tomb. They loved each other.
Lire la suiteIls se sont aimés
Tendre la main. Capturer les étoiles du ciel une à une. Les enfiler en perles d’or sur le fil de mon amour. Déposer le collier autour de ton cou. Pour que tu te sentes belle. Attraper la lune. La saisir, te l’offrir. Plonger tes yeux dans son miroir. Te voir, t’aimer. Souffler sur les flammes du monde, raviver l’éclat de tes yeux. Avoir chaud, être bien. Se glisser dans tes cauchemars. En chasser les diables, les dragons. Dormir en paix. Te prendre la main. Marcher au fil des mois, des années. Être heureux. Passer les mains sur tes rides. Caresser les sillons de ma passion. Avancer ensemble. Arrêter les saisons. Rester en été. Ne pas se voûter, hésiter, tituber. Avoir froid en hiver. Lutter, résister. Combattre. Partir ensemble. Avec cette phrase sur notre tombe. Ils se sont aimés.
Lire la suiteHow long, did I pass with you ?
The monotony of the rainy days came to ooze of trouble on the walls of your building. You look at them dripping of this dislike which wearies you. You could flee, to flee. But, cowardice comes to gain you, nibble you, eat you. It puts to you in crumbs. Your ideas of revolt are only words which you throw to exist, to deceive you. Even you, you do not believe yourself.You exist only by pushing the grid of your building when you return in your box of rat. You have the choice to leave. But to go where? Your horizon stops at the end of your street. There is never sun in your street. Large buildings protect you before plunging in the mouth of the subway. Do you still Know that some share pushes grass? You are afraid of the insects, of the birds. You are mutant. Then why to speak you about feelings? It would be necessary that you open the eyes, that you look at, to understand, open, be emotional, not to think more but of you. It is too much to require of you. You are the single person that your being still accepts. The others, all the others are hidden behind the trees of your forest. It pushed with the years putting your life in waste land. Most wild of the animals would be afraid to lose itself there in the blackness of these days without sun. You are there well. Also, the door of your large building pushes, hides behind his walls. Forget me. On the other side of the bars, I seize freedom, that which does you fear. How long, did I pass with you on the bad side of this grid? I do not have a figure. I know that it was too…
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J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
