#ebenbore haus

[ebenborehaus]

"Prayer for your lonely nights" by Lloyd Alfred Bloke

__________

I am the sky. 

I am the sun and the moon, and the stars are my freckles;

I am a giant and a baby

I am the holy side of the priest 

And I am his worst sins,

All in one.

I am a being

I am the Sky.

Be with me

Because you have no choice

Try to love

And try to paint me,

Adore every atom I am made of.

I am your father’s eyes and I am 

The spirit of the shadow of your mother.

Here you are

On knees

In front of me

In front of all.

Love me

Be me

Cry me

Throw me up on a crowded street;

And be proud of it.

I am your creation

And you are mine.

[ebenborehaus]

two poems by Elias Wahlberg

__________

"Half Shirt"

I put my half shirt to the test, 

I fill my lungs with air just one deep breath and recollect.

Son, you look so young,

like I was that time I found my gallbladder grotesque,

and said you swans go on write songs so long they are definite.

Drown me in the pond,

this is my reflection.

This water makes a mirror good enough.

I don't want to go but I guess I must.

Why can't I put you in a jar,

the shallow prime contenders say that I have gone too far.

I tie the laces of my vest,

impending physics never disinfect the specimen.

Going off the coop, drinking holy water.

I would walk the plank to take the test,

to make you wager on the likelihood of happiness.

Tell me I would be wrong, going up against it.

The neighbors make the tables full enough.

I don't know how to cope but I guess I must.

Why can't I stuff you in a bar,

and make you pay your way to labour day you cannibal.

"I Feel Like Someone Else"

We are here but what are we?

We're swimming by like fish seeing life boat action.

Watch my sisters as they watch my feet,

slow dancing in the midst of depressions castle.

Have I caused this to myself?

I run up to you and when I am finally there,

I just feel like someone else.

I have stopped between the lights,

skinny dipping in a pond because it's what I have longed for.

Strange phenomena, wuthering heights,

running round and round the house and then out the back door.

I have tried to say good night,

I wake up and you are holding me by the nose,

I just feel like I am alright.

We will feed you until the end,

we will wait until the questions only reach the turnpike

Killed my flowers when they killed my friend,

you have always known what stretching your perception feels like.

Saw my secrets as a sign,

always worrying my death would be an instigator,

I just feel like I am dying.

Sing asylum, sing Goddard,

sing your sorrows to a place that quarantines the pain.

Sing acousticum guitars,

sing a short reprise for Mary Todd who went insane.

Sang a soul song, sang the truth,

sang my heart out in a ballad for a pestered caveman,

sang farewell songs to my youth,

[ebenborehaus]

"slow dance" by Stacey Teague

__________

slow dance

love is an idea that you came up with 

over your morning coffee

you come up to me and say

"have you ever heard of this thing called love?"

and place your hand on the small of my back

pulling me towards you in a way that seems intuitive

like the way a river flows

i imagine that gravity didn't exist until you pulled me in your direction

you ask if we can slow dance in the middle of our living room

and i just laugh

and repeat the word 'dance' in your accent

it's "dance" not "dance"

i look at you with eyes that convey "hehe"

i make fun of the way you dance

i make fun of the way you love

[ebenborehaus]

"untitled / the way you changed me and why I got lost in you" by Johanna K.

__________

Untitled 

The green grass and the scent of freshly born daffodils; I am surrounded by all of natures and it makes me feel the lightness of being.  My knees are stained from the grass and my hair is filled with little daisies. I touch all the little new born plants; their smooth, slender and fragile appearance makes you remember your childhood. The sweet smell of wet ground makes me want to become a plant. I will paint my hands green please let me hold on to this explainable beauty (the only thing that matters).

The way you changed me and why I got lost in you 

It always starts with holding hands. When I met you I felt myself appear. As if you planted a garden in my stomach and I had just begun to grow. The nearer you got to me the faster the plants grew.  You watered me in conjunction with holding me together. I wasn’t able to breathe before you surrounded me. It is as if I was finally able to see. When out lips met for the first time, the flowers you planted inside me emerged from my stomach into my fragile heart. I was willing to let you write your name over my body.  Since that day invisible flowers have been growing out of my eyes and I cannot see anyone else but you. I am so in love it hurts. There are butterflies trying to emerge from my body. My hands feel empty whenever yours aren’t holding them.  Now that I met you I am no longer alone. I might be lonely, yet I will never be alone again.

[ebenborehaus]

selection from Enflurane's tumblr answers, edited by E.H.

__________

Anonymous asked: Why do you have tumblr

I’m collecting data for some revolutionary psychology dissertations (you’ll see)

Anonymous asked: tell us a story

"You don’t really exist, do you?" The chances are low. Last night I saw you dancing, holding me in your arms, still, motionless. Your skin was burning, reflecting the sun, at night. We were in the garden, no, at the park, no - at the airport, train station - you were leaving, like always, and I was waiting. Gathering pieces, stitching them together, trying to build you up of what I remembered. I was touching my face, trying to find the places you had felt. Trying to find the traces of your fingertips, somewhere I was still on fire, I said, somewhere I’m burning and you are holding me. We were at the train station and you took my hand, no, my body, you hold me as close as it is possible to hold a human being, I felt my bones aching, trying to reach out for you, my body is falling apart. I’m lying under your bed in a few pieces, holding the blood and splinters of bone inside me, trying to keep quiet. But I’m here, sleeping with my eyes wide open, carrying all sorts of pain. I told you, time is the worst illusion.

Anonymous asked: what is your favorite perfume?

Each day when I wake up I rub myself against the ground. The sweet nectar of grass watered by the morning dew. Wet ground. Makes me feel so many things

Anonymous asked: talk about humans, i love when you do it

Humans? You want to talk about humans? I don’t know much about humans. I’ve seen a lot of them but only touched a few. If you’re lucky, they can make you feel a lot. Get under your skin. Make you forget that you’re just a.. Human. I’ve felt some of them and it was the most exquisite pain I’ve ever felt in my deepest cores.. The worst thing is that I’ll never forget. And the best thing is that I’ll never forget. But that is okay, because one day, I will become something else, fire, soil. And I’ll be one with everything, even if now I can’t even become one with a single thing no matter how hard I slam my body against theirs or how many secrets I reveal. And then, what I now call a forever will not matter.

Anonymous asked: what are your feelings about art?

If it doesn’t make you sick it’s not worth looking at

Anonymous asked: How do you masturbate?

Listen to whale sounds from youtube and try to concentrate all my mental sexual energy in to getting an orgasm without touching anything

Anonymous asked: can you tell us a story? it is always a pleasure to read your writing.

I don’t have stories but I can tell you.. about some things. I’ve been wanting to die since I was 13. I don’t feel like I had done any growing up after I was 16, I consider it good - I want to be an infinite, burning chaos - I don’t want youth, I don’t want age, I want my bones to rust and my organs to grow moss. Oftentimes I write like my mouth had been sewn shut. Would I rather use that energy and potential to holding someone as near to my body as I could if I had an opportunity? Maybe. So many things scare me, it’s ridiculous, I wish I was strong like a thousand year old tree but my bones can’t even bear the weight of my own heart. I wish I could put my ear against a chest and listen to the heartbeat. I used to listen to the ocean through seashells. Comparable. I always thought I was a hopeless case but I was also wishing for someone to prove me wrong

Anonymous asked: Have you ever seen something so beautiful, you'd want to live inside of it?

Oh yes - this earth, the whole concept of this world we live in. I’m glad to be participating this state, life of a simple human being. What I think is the most beautiful thing about it is that how many contradictions it holds, how it can be yet so horribly terrifying and vile, but at the same time it includes everything that we can see as something beautiful.The whole spectrum of feelings we can sense is limited on the dimensions that exist to us at this very point. We might not ever feel as much as we do feel in this life.

Anonymous asked: what are your common day to day activities?

These days I often find myself lying on the floor, curled up on a ball, a grin on my face, feeling my organs melting and penetrating the ground and reaching, growing roots and reaching for the center of the earth and look.. I don’t know how I got there or what I actually am doing there but I know that the only thing I really want right now is a heart to hold, I want to push it against my ear and hear the beating and say, “so this is how it’s supposed to work"…….

Anonymous asked: how do you deal with failures?

By smashing my head into pieces with a hammer and ripping all my limbs off mostly

Anonymous asked: How many years have you been on this earth?

i don’t know???? like it might be that my consciousness is reprogrammed every time i think i’m sleeping, maybe i’ve actually been alive just this one day and all my memories are just artificial now hey what does define me as a person how do i identify as myself how, you know, fluid is my identity and when does it actually stop being my identity, like is there a border to cross you know???? you are asking hard questions. i don’t have a memory from before than when i was like 3-4 maybe i’ve been here in some sort of continuum for an eternity but once in a while my mind is being cleansed and i’m set to start from this amoeba state again you know creating a new tabula rasa once in a while. idk man.

Anonymous asked: are you addicted to internet?

I am addicted to the romanticized idea of my own space without limitations

Anonymous asked: are you worried to grow up and go to college then work etc.?

Yeah, especially about the fact that at some point I really must ‘attach’ myself in the reality in some sort of social constancy better and before that I should get a better hold of my existence but it’s more likely happening backwards and really is even less under my control than I think it is

Anonymous asked: what do you like learning about?

Power. New forms of pleasure. Unnoticeable things which you expect to form the world around you. How things are built, how they work, how to make them work better. Destruction. Violence. Knowledge. People. The mind and the brain.

Anonymous asked: what do you like?

Different bodies of water. Trying to think outside the box.. I also like skin, touching. Some other things too. Like being explained things, and also explaining them to people who listen. I like many theories, and theorists. Punching. The fact that I have so many senses. I like a lot of things.

Anonymous asked: have you ever attempt to kill someone because of the intensity of your love? you know, keeping him/her in her/his last shape in your mind. i am talking about an abstract murder.

I attempt to kill everything in my sight each second to have it born again before me; because the beauty of things, in their supreme profundity, lies exactly in the point where the surface cracks revealing new light and shedding new blood - in this, I believe, we can, for a moment, sense an absolutely sublime feel of comprehension; and that is a feeling, I believe, that should be sought.

Anonymous asked: Are you 100 % Finnish?

I’m not even sure if I’m 100% human

Anonymous asked: Do you think that there is something after death?

You’re phrasing the question wrong. You should rather ask something like .. “how do I choose to react to the transcendental concept of death & how do I let this aspect reflect to my choices, attitudes and life in general.” But well, to answer your literal question, obviously there is. Everything starts from an ending so why would we consider our deaths to be something so special that it would have the power to cease something from happening. I mean, your death will probably be a part of the reason/cause for something more grand than your whole life was. “The void is not the void because there’s nothing to be empty of.”