Sunday Hindsight Diaries
Text© Nastya Fall, 2024
ISBN 978-5-0062-2108-6
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
FOREWORD
Sunday hindsight diaries is what you write when nostalgia makes it difficult to sit still, buzzing under your skin like an enormous beehive. It’s in the first sunny days of spring, when the heat is luring you out, to the tight buds and puddles and dogs. It’s in the fields, moving like tv static, ready to tell you the stories of those who came before. It’s in the falling leaves, layering up in empty alleyways, umbrellas and knitted scarves. It’s in the first days of winter, when snow is all around the city. It’s fresh and crystal clear, it stings with pain, but you can’t wait for it to come around. Those subtle flashbacks are different with every season and that’s what makes them so interesting and exciting. Those memories will never change and you’ll keep seeing the same faces under the glowing street lights at night. What you’ve written at 16 will remain what you’ve written at 16. And at 20 you will be jealous of her sweet teenage nonchalance, healing the wounds of hopeful blindness on your heart. Your past isn’t going anywhere, a good reason to overanalyze it. And even a better way to see just how far you’ve already come. One day you will wake up to being flooded with regret and sorrow. The other – to a rush of affection and love. Every emotion is falling into place so gracefully, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And those are the things you will write about in Sunday hindsight diaries.
THE SERENDIPITY CHAPTER
jane eyre
a dull, murky evening
and the western wind
is shaking the fir tree branches.
your shoulders you’re wrapping,
no sun – only candles,
a lantern light that is tarnished.
the cold of the manor,
the foretoken’s banner
clenches my shivering chest.
who’s wandering by night?
what’s happening here right?
is here where my path is best?
27.02.2019
***
never-the-loneliness,
nevertheless.
i can still see myself in that white dress,
sun in the mirrors with rainbows in sand,
silently telling me it will not end.
blueprints of sky on my permanent walls,
milk-dipped silk edges of cloudy crème rose,
roughness and tightness of arms around me,
silently telling i’ll never be free.
counting the hours and reading the lips,
fighting your demons with my false beliefs,
perching the window to see that, out there
no one can actually understand? care?
salty in solitude, waves crawl aside.
going away, you think i wouldn’t mind
stopping you? leaving you? living alone?
isn’t it late to return what i own?
coastline is softened by dimmed lilac haze,
all through my head – your indifferent gaze.
resting my soul in the sea – i’m a mess.
never-the-loneliness,
nevertheless.
22.06.2020
***
in the memory of jim morrison, the lead singer of the doors
he hypnotised crowds with a flick of the wrist,
created the art just by moving his lips.
and, vividly dreaming, he poured out his song
to tremble, to hope and to whisper along.
his infinite star shone above from the stage,
he wasn’t afraid of appearing strange.
though somebody claimed of him being moonstruck,
it wasn’t in his style to give it a fuck.
he was like a lightning. a flash – and he’s gone.
a seeker, a poet, who rode on the storm.
and history doesn’t forget all the vows
of beads, lizard kings and soft tambourine sounds.
and through the nightshades of paris
a caravan carried the pain.
he closed the doors of perception
behind him when he went away.
08.08.2020
***
in honour of the 41st anniversary of
«the wall» by pink floyd
deserted bedrooms. a silent hall.
darkness. short beeps. a telephone call.
now it is you who is always not home.
you’re mourning. you’re weeping
behind the wall.
you’re crawling and creeping through fears and tears.
you’re bleeding, receding; the blood you smear
on bricks will deliver your dream to those,
who’ll stand on the ruins of virgin walls.
you shiver and quiver from deadly cold.
the crumbs you are picking once made up your world.
your past on the left, your thoughts on the right.
from hell – to heaven, from darkness – to light.
you nourish your pain with a rapture of mad.
because every coat, every line, brick – it had
a story, so pure in its manic dismay.
too frightened to leave and too tired to stay.
you take a deep breath and look over your life:
your father, your mother, your band and your wife.
now it doesn’t matter, cause you are alone.
and fortune is telling you:
«bring down the wall!»
to kill all you love is most frequently
the only known way to be free.
30.11.2020
***
come right to me, relieve my pain, don’t let me go.
refine my shrine and watch it burn, in sorrow known.
humiliate, humidify, relapsing «why?»,
retire tears, collect your things and leave behind.
heal up my soul, demolish yours, we are aware:
you never ask, i never tell that i still care.
your tender step i will confirm beside my door.
my sunshine, please don’t hurt me anymore.
19.09.2021
***
as the veins of the city give up on their blood,
the horizon is scarlet with pudent desire,
we are breathing with verve and unholy of love
to commit an atonement in fire.
we all know how the vices and virtues are born,
let the beautiful sins still caress our delusions.
doing things that you want you are never alone,
but forever alone in conclusion.
does the chastity matter? please, kill it in me.
raise a toast to delight when we start to decay.
comfort me, fall for me, pervert me, bury me.
we will burn anyway,
we will burn anyway.
03.05.2022
***
i want you to know me
like no one before you,
see something behind what i choose to expose.
learn my secret language
and write me a message,
cause nobody else ever gets our jokes.
ineffable silence
and talking in glances,
we’re driving home singing my favourite song.
the way you look holding
my hand is so cozy,
i’d never stop dreaming of you all night long.
you will be my best friend
no matter the weather,
it’s like you have been here for my whole life.
you want me to know you
like no one before me,
it’s more than an honour to know what it’s like.
15.08.2022
***
and even if i never touch your lips,
this love will remain as a wreckage of glory,
so blinding and pure that nobody before me
deserves to exist in your own memories.
17.09.2022
***
when the mornings grew cold
and the leaves turned to gold
every day i recalled breathing free.
will the start of the fall be as cruel as all,
will the summer end beautifully?
will it come corner-sweeping
pain and leave me to weeping?
will it bless me with horrible sins?
will it give me a clue to know what i should do,
will i live when the autumn begins?
17.09.2022
***
i find myself on the kitchen floor, on the bathroom tiles, speaking out the pain,
i squeeze my hand on the lifeless blade, begging you to call till it’s not too late.
if i play things right, will you love me back? will you drag me out of this long nightmare?
it just seems to be: only ending me can put all of this shit to an end.
25.09.2022
***
blessed be the rain, and the way we ran
through the crowds to the scarborough fair.
dancing in the fires, drunk and seeing stars,
no one could put our love to an end.
blessed be the times, lying in your arms,
i forgot i was mortally cursed.
as if cherry pies would’ve cured my lies,
but they only made agony worse.
no one could control my disastrous soul,
and i’m sorry i’d wound you this hard.
blessed be the day that you held my hand
or the night that had torn us apart.
30.09.2022
***
i wish i could pick up the keys to your heart
and stay inside where i belong.
i can’t allow to get them wrong, that’s why i take my time.
i’ll know the right ones when i find among the counterfeit
the shiny plainly reading sign «exactly what you need».
and when you play a song i like, i’ll feel it all kickstart,
the bridge comes in, we both begin:
«this is my favourite part!»
07.11.2022
***
i find my peace in frozen leaves, lakes, haunted by the drowned.
i feel you breathe beneath the trees, die, as you touch the ground.
the evanescence of your step lures to repeat your path,