"Owls are not what they seem"
As some of you know, for the past few months I was working on putting a book together. Well, finally I have finished fussing with it! You can get your hands on it HERE. Also, there is a limited amount of signed copies of the book, if you would like to get one with my handwritten scribbles inside, please contact me directly by email blog@chattyowl.com or leave a comment here and I will get it arranged!
Thanks to all of you for being such a great support!
– Chatty Owl –
Messy hair
is just a fracture
of a true mess inside your mind,
but like a careful guide
you beckon my body
to follow yours.
It’s a dance
with no rules,
but so beautifully in tune
to a perfection.
We always are though, right?
I chew
like a dog on a bone
these muffled words of yours,
as they leave your hollow mouth
into mine.
I’m sucking dry
the drops of your attention,
but somehow
leave you wanting me
instead.
I don’t write about matters
of my own heart,
‘cos I dont have one
and love affairs
always end
in the same way
as does my impeccable acting –
like a proof,
that I can lie
so well.
But not today.
– Chatty Owl –
I pay for my sins
in a currency of torn connections
and
the faded colour of your closed eyes.
The ones,
that witnessed all the nasty cravings
and imprints
on the non-tanned skin.
It got chased
by my red-painted nails
and
the blue smoke.
That’s what made our passion purple –
unlike those ripe emotions,
that got replaced
by immature steps
of selfish needs,
while
my dirty petticoat
reeked of yesterday’s booze
and unfiltered words –
those got lost
somewhere between sheets,
together with broken strands of hair
and
our lawless past.
It screamed loud
in high-pitched tones
of
rightful accusations.
Ours.
– Chatty Owl –
It’s been a very very long time I have’t written in collaboration with anybody. But today I want to share with you a poem that I wrote together with ever so secretive Man Behind the Steel Mask. Check him out, some saucy things there!
You get lost.
Inside the beauty of my lies
and
raven black hair.
Tangled.
You get confused.
In the labyrinth of my thoughts
and
pools of my eyes.
Watching.
Come closer.
Hear my breathing get faster.
Watch my eye-lids close
and
my skin scream for a touch.
Rough.
Do not hold back.
Your passions fueling fire
burn me into you
and
liquefy my spirited body.
Fast.
I burn a mark
on the map of your skin.
Inked.
Sweaty kisses were never that
tasty.
For us.
Branded by lust.
Forever embedded thoughts.
Flesh on flesh
bound
caressing fingertip traces.
Ecstasy.
Odours of skin
mix with the sweat of bodies
writhing.
Heat,
exploding from inside,
has never tasted so seducing
off your fingers.
Feeling one
bound by unions of pleasure.
Satisfied.
Loving.
Holding tightly to each
want it all to begin again.
Dry lips
shield my wet warm mouth
from kissing.
I wrap strings of my hair
around fingers
as
I watch your thoughts dreaming
about
my legs
wrapped around your neck
instead.
We don’t talk
and you can’t hear my whispers,
but we both know
that I’ll be sitting on your
face
tonight
and at your breakfast table
tomorrow.
– Chatty Owl –
White dented skin,
marked with careful precision
of
accidental wounds.
I look over my shoulder
instead of looking at your face
and it makes it all glamorous
and justifying,
as if I was posing
for that perfect picture.
Your salty fingers
end up invading my mouth,
stopping me
from screaming out the truth,
so what you get
are forced, silent lies.
Deaf
to the sound of ill-coloured heart
and blind
to the pale indifference we both share,
we let our exhaled breaths float
in the night around us.
I strike you as cold,
but it’s just that
I don’t like crying
over spilled milk.
– Chatty Owl –
You found me naked
moments after I didn’t want to
be discovered,
yet
I still let you watch me
while I was watching you(r)
reaction.
Exposed skin
became less and less visible
by the soundless noise of the soft cashmere
that suddenly covered my arms.
Dark cotton slid on my skin
flawlessly
as
the colour of my pale milky legs
got replaced by denim.
Glimpses of the bare flesh
got exchanged for fabric
and
your surprised expression
got exchanged for mutual attraction.
Buzzing in the air.
I watched you watching me
getting dressed
and you could barely control your excitement
and the urge
to rip my clothes
back off.
Even though you heard
my mind screaming “no”
in reply,
we both knew
that all you had to do
is say one word
to make it all happen.
I make pretty words
sound filthy
and you tame wild girls
to act oh-so-obedient.
– Chatty Owl –
Lack of sleep
turns into lack of tolerance
I have for you
right now.
My restless body
moves under pale shadows
of these warm sheets
and I eagerly attempt to ignore
the approaching morning
in order to forget
that
my sunsets are the colour of your heart
that got violently pierced
by skyscrapers
of an unfamiliar land,
where I fly
high,
above the first glimpse
of the London dawn
to steal your sky away,
just like I took your heart
that day
on a journey to nowhere.
With me.
I teased
and left you wanting me
a little bit more
than you did two minutes ago,
but it wasn’t enough
to make you lose your mind,
all because we both know
I made this choice for us
on purpose
and
spoiled the taste
of my imaginary whispers
and kisses on your mouth
to stop us moving forward.
Addictions require dedication
and I don’t like commitments.
– Chatty Owl –
Stop.
Frozen bodies around us.
Touch.
My hand in yours.
Warm.
We are still warm.
Beg.
To stay this way.
Simple toys of paper airplanes
give me hope
that dreams fly at the speed of a thought –
light enough to be a breath
on a steamed mirror
that reflects you
next-to-me
and not the other way round.
– Chatty Owl –
Your silent words,
sealed lips,
like an envelope of a letter
I’m dreading to open.
You gift me with a quiet torture,
an abandon treatment
and I know,
there is only an empty sheet of paper
inside.
Withhold the sentences
and words,
and cryptic letters,
forget the exclamation marks
that turn to
questions,
forget the signatures
and crinkled corners –
I’m holding this,
that’s nothing more than pile of dust –
imagination,
wishful thinking,
a gust of wind and whispers in the grass.
I thank you for nothing,
yet
I have to thank you.
– Chatty Owl –
CHATTYOWL 