Between the Lines – Charalampos Tzanakis

Something is blurring your vision – what if my amenities slip through the cracks?


I lie in my bed and I see myself lying in different position 
I don’t dance in the club, I dance in the street
In saying There are no truths about you, I release all the bullshit
I am levitating two feet over your carpet – probing into your soul is not a question for tonight 
People love wax dolls, so I sit still on my mattress 
As you walk through the door, I’m looking at your feet crossing the door-line
I think of him as a light above a button, forever ON or at least for now. I am going to think about this the next time the plane takes off. Color irrelevant, sound that doesn’t stop, like a continuous trtzzzzzzz, with a lot more zzz’s, as much as wanted, needed because it just doesn’t stop except for that one time whenever it happens and that is not a fact, just an impression that happens in this writing. The light is there whenever you check and that means what you think it means. Apart from the obvious metaphor, I am now sure that unpolished language is the new black, don’t have to wait to write, or to be compared and fall into a delicious hole. This seems semi-apologetic too, and that tiresome nature takes me back to the light above the button, its color is irrelevant or fluctuating, both words ring true like the trtzzzzzzz rings stable, luminous, true, all of the above. You don’t have to polish your language, the light is on, plane took off, ears buzzing, this sweet feeling, yeah
I am a total star between my circle of friends. Blue basic thin notebooks marked in stars and words, blue pen leaving all the right marks, for it containing the totality of the universe. I wish I could transfer my dreams in them but the line between the dream and the blue notebook is getting thinner and thinner every day. That’s why you start with a drippy dot and then everything flows into choppy words like a formless poem. Imagine stars and dots and shaky lines and lines crossing the text into circles into snakes. If I feel, they feel in their way, so don’t be preachy and intrusive, every one has his way and story, that was her conclusion as well. But that doesn’t explain the silence before the total reveal of the femme haircut in my dream. The boy got a compliment for his boy-ish haircut still obscured by a 3/4 angle, then revealed a face of uncertainty with full bangs and femme flow, silence giving it everything you imagine but that’s not the truth. On his neck I saw star tattoos and a finger pressing them with love. If my dream contains obscure truths about love hidden in sentences, girls and boys like me, a total secret heist in every fabulous clothes shop would give my face balance at last, this fight would be resolved in not talking to you ever again, restored, all restored, faith restored, I am here, my words stars and circles on his neck 
Awful mirage
Don’t go down that path
Chance encounter leaves me aghast – don’t mention this ever again – mean kid is pressing my hand hard as it gets, I feel like I am Candy Darling – don’t dance in the streets ever again – pressing my eyes close, getting into your soul – I am not Candy Darling after all – amazing, deep goes with awful, downsizing – repeating the words of the last person, onto the next one – necessary period – please My name is Bubbles – I totemise what I see in front of me. I am puking it out – 2015 – 2020