For Your Heaven

Written by Tabalith
Art by Amir Esrafili

Well, I think she looks beautiful
                   with her indigo lips
                                      I think her hair is wonderful,
                                      with all the sand on her scalp
                   I think her eyes are so
                                      dark, so closed, so breathless
                   And I think her hands are so
painfully small

And you know I only understand
                   the pain that kisses your stomach
                                      And do not tell me she is not
                                      the prettiest girl on the cemetery
                   The youngest, she is for sure
                                      the very youngest
                   The closest to a human: smelling, tasting, laughing
like heaven

And the most far away from
                   the earth, crawling up her legs
                                      I think the bloody-white
                                      flowers look so placid
                   They lay on her cheeks like tears;
                                      never will she cry again
                   And the emerald coffin around her tiny body fits her
like a dress

I have not yet washed her clothes,
                   I still smell her from here
                                      There is a world not between
                                      me and her, a whole world
                   There is a heaven (her heaven, your heaven)
                                      I sing this for your heaven
                   There is a hell, it is mine, and I crawl around
in my hell

And do not tell me I will see her again,
                   she is a light I cannot reach
                                      She is a darkness I cannot smell,
                                      a depth I cannot survive
                   I will jump to the other side
                                      and find myself dead on the wall
                   (Like the spider I killed yesterday, thinking that spider
was me)

And I do not know, I do not wish to know
                   how this song will end
                                      The silence between me and her and you
                                      cuts my little ears
                   And I will not turn around to kiss
                                      the face I have kissed too often
                   In some nights, where I swore to have
reached heaven

Take Me to the Sun and Back

Written by Tabalith
Art by Pixabay

I swear you don’t even really love me, yet and I swear,
if you don’t look at me now, if you don’t touch me now,
if you don’t take me to the sun now and back now,
if you don’t say my name in a language I don’t speak now,
if you don’t kill the moon now, the earth now, the air now,
if you don’t create a universe for me and you now,
if you don’t align your veins to my blood flow now,
if you don’t raise my eyes to Venus now,
if you don’t let me kiss the sun now,
if you don’t show me the black hole of our universe now,
if you don’t throw me into it now,
if you don’t let me die for you now—

then you will never ever love me again.

Your Eyes, Your Eyes

Written by Tabalith
Art by Clement Percheron

Cat-like, emerald, caramel, and in them
I see some light there where I should
sit, sit patiently, as a shadow or
just the fever dream of a shadow

You call them your eyes, just
your eyes, and I call them:
your eyes, your eyes,
and then I drown in them

I watch whatever you do with
these eyes that belong to
not one of the human beings on this
Earth that you observe without pain

Look up and look at the sky,
don’t tell me this sky is as
quiet to you as it is to me; I know
you speak the same color

the letter i left on the kitchen floor

Written by Tabalith
Art by Allec Gomes

listen i haven’t been prepared for this
you know this kind of life with its dripping clouds
of cotton so white like your teeth like your
well whatever there is in between your
you know what i mean
and i dare you to make me get on my knees and
smile like a maniac and tell me that all of
this well this really not so wonderful story
is life because i have a little tiny black book
where i have written everything down about
you and your little
gigantic invisible skin that swirls around
my tiny red chest with your
sweaty fingerprints on it oh no i
have forgotten my point and i stare
at your flesh with wet lips and you ask
me to open my mouth and i open
something else do not tell me
this is the life i wanted when i was
young like motherless rose petals
i was so very young and you yo y
y yo you were already dead like
stony meat ahhh i was so young
and sometimes my head imagined me
sitting on my deathbed and singing
i don’t want to die but i really wanted to
die while i’m still young and beautiful and now
at me i’m still young but
i have never been beautiful and while i tell you
all this you hiss at me like oh god like
you know who i mean and then you
crumble beneath my green feet and
i have still not figured out
not you not me not what i call this day-after-day ride
with no ticket back home

Mourn the Death You Kissed Today

Written by Tabalith
Art by Allec Gomes

It has started to rain, and I wish
I had someone to observe like
a woman at the balcony, opening
her negligee just to reveal
dust underneath

or a man with three eyes walking
his dog and barking as his dog
explains to him why birds are little
pieces of not-so-worthy-of-it

And I imagine
observing a stationary dot
laying around on the grass
until I realize that it is a
dying, hissing bug

I could even watch myself
in the window, peeking
for gods know what and
playing with the crushing blood
pumping between my toes

but I would have to find
a mirror first, a mirror with
no black cloth on it

and as I stand up to erase
the darkness of the thing I
was just two days ago,
I hear the rain crawl away
like the snake I licked three
nights ago, until
it passed away

Cemetery Sunday

Written by Tabalith
Art by David Bartus

She has spent her whole Sunday afternoon on a cemetery
in a city she does not know nor love
because to love the unknown is like kissing the
mirror image of a stranger

She has walked between the graves on a cemetery
under a glaring, March sun that cut
her little feet and made them bleed until
she did not feel it anymore

She has left a piece of herself on a cemetery
path, leading from a dried-up bush
to a river where she imagined herself drowning
before she disappeared between the streets

Belshazzar’s Famine

Written by Tabalith
Art by Irina Iriser

let me infiltrate
your mind, storm into
your brain with
my white leather
boots with the
green dirt hiding
between my toes
underneath my
nails, and on the
top of my left
decaying leg

­— let me

i will hide under
your earth
breathing in your
clumps of mud
and cough out the
worms you have
still given no
name to because
you name nothing
you want to lose,
and so i will hide
under your earth
a nameless pink worm
under many others

— let me

and i will be rotten
by the time the sun
has risen and the
moon has sunken
into itself so to not
let the stars die
alone and un-encircled
and unseen by you,
because you sleep
with your eyes closed

— do not let me

once i have softly
laid my head
on your kidney
and pressed my feet
against your lungs
to rest my wounded
body machine
i will not be
able to find the
way out of you

Close the Window for Me

Written by Tabalith
Art by Eva Elijas

It is getting cold, Jimmy,
it is getting so cold and I can’t tell
if you left the window open
on purpose, Jimmy, and
the door closed so that
you won’t hear me if I,
if I find the courage to
shout in this house,

This house is not mine, Jimmy,
you have built it with your
tiny giant hands and with
your never-bleeding
thumbs and the dust between
your fingers, Jimmy,
you have forgotten about my
paper-thin skin,

It is getting late, Jimmy,
I can’t read the words crawling
down the walls to my feet
and I can’t find your sweaty
eyes rolling on the floor,
so I kiss the darkness goodnight
and here you come, Jimmy,
you look like yourself,

Close the window for me, Jimmy,
I beg you with all thirteen
grains of dust pumping behind
my nameless, grayless heart,
and I look at you with all
my five yellow eyes,
but your eyeballs are crawling
up the walls you built,

Painting Lessons

Written by Tabalith
Art by Andre Moura

If I were to draw you
I would draw one black line
on wet sheets of papyrus
and watch the paper speak

I would draw a line
that goes outside the paper,
snake-like sneaking off to
low-hanging dusty clouds

I would let my finger cut
itself in pieces with the paper
to blend the lonesome black line
with my unnatural redness

You would sit across the room,
your chin at the lampshade,
and stare, with your hands
hanging loosely from your head


Written by Tabalith

Michelle —
You walk down the street
And smile
With the bee stings
Under your smile,
Some would call
You infantile,
But I but I but
I, I
Know you smile
Because you have
No reason to smile
So you smile
All the time
Hoping one day
You’ll be right
To smile

Michelle —
No one’s waiting for you
At home
That’s why you’re
Not running home
When behind you
You smell black foam —
Some would run
But you but you but
You, you
Know nobody’s home
Because you have
Nobody at home
So your home
Is now the dark foam
You now
Call your home

Michelle —
I will stay inside
My shell,
Untouched by your
Eyes that shell —
Some would try
To break the spell
But I but I but
I, oh I
Remain caught in my shell
Because I fear
Crawling out of my shell,
And my shell
Is cold like the spell
Like a mirror
Like your shell
Oh, my unknown

Oh, my Michelle