Today is good day for a new piece of poetry by Vanessa Matic.
Read her previous work here and read her new poem ‘Pour Me Death’ below.

POUR ME DEATH

To live is to die well. It is simple life is a grave.
There I am in the mirror, watching a secluded
version of myself. It stares vacantly it becomes
faceless, it is a reality I have felt in a dream. A
faceless dream staring back at me, the movements
paralyzed.The movements a flicker of images
that-like from a flip book story in dark colors, it is
damp inside the soul. It is hardly fulfilled, it is a
darkness trespassed by a broken heart. They’ve won
again, they win always, the clowns. They smile as
they have read what I’ve said, those clowns. As they
follow each thread to cut and cut till you’re dead.
This does not burden me, no I hardly feel they’re
worthy to be my enemy. Yet it is the sea, the trees,
the land,the sky, the heart of I and all that is inside
of this place, earth. That is, what has abducted
my mind and it has collected all the time to be placed
with unbearable sadness, and then even the sadness
of my lovers and friends, and family. My tears are clear;
they have rained till such a desert had taken them; It had
felt treacherous to unveil their solitudes and reflective
sorrows to the moon, to the sun, to the grounds of love.
Pour me bitter, pour me wealthy, pour me poor, pour me
evil, pour me kind, pour me life, and then as you may
pour me death. Let it be the drink that has been saved
from decades so lethal it will drown each cell and dissolve
all that is left and even the soul will be destructed. Even
it’s depth shall have perished; Never to be recreated
again for the unworthy worlds of their eyes, for the
unworthy hate and love.I am on a bridge looking beneath
all the dreams I tossed, I walk far from it to that small antique
bar the scent of life like clean sweat musk on leathered time
walls. The large windows consume the street as much as you
envy it with your eyes. How it is so vacant, how it is nothing
but what a day and night make it, or winter and summer. I
watch each line so carefully. Such as the framing of the
window by my seating, the dim candle gleam silhouette of
my fingers and glass, glass. The high lights of the streets,
the dash of paint on the sideway. As I remember each
achievement and failure. I drink and I say “Pour me life,
pour me death once and forever more.”

Poetry by Vanessa Matic 

Painting by Sis Josip