Sam and Lidija in the documentary, “I Psychopath.”

Found a link to this on Twitter. I have little to add–I know next to nothing about poetry, so I’ll just let his words speak for themselves.

One thing that does stand out to me, is that Sam’s words show a man who suffers greatly from his disorder and at least a part of him wants desperately to be free from it. Lidija is his comfort and strength and he yearns to break free of the prison of narcissism to be able to return the love she gives to him. Such passionate words from a man who insists he has no ability to feel love.

I really hope he is a good husband to his wife, who seems very sweet and empathetic from what I saw of her in “I, Psychopath.”

http://samvak.tripod.com/herbirthday.html

Her Birthday
I. Apology …

My Wife:

Sometimes I watch you from behind:

your shoulders, avian, aflutter.

Your ruby hands;

the feet that carry you to me

and then away.

I know I wrong You.

Your eyes black pools; your skin eruptions of what is

and could have been.

I vow to make you happy, but

my Hunchbacked Self

just tolls the bells

and guards you from afar.

II. … And Thanks

In the wasteland that is Me

You flower.

Your eyes black petals strewn

across the tumbling masonry.

Your stem resists my winds.

Your roots, deep in my soil,

toil in murk to feed both you and me,

to nurture Us.

And every day a spring,

and every morn a sunshine:

you’re in my garden,

you blossom day and night.

Your sculpted daint feels

in my hands like oneness.

III. In Toronto

So much is left unsaid between us.

Your crests of silence

fallen on my shores of pain.

IV. Dedication (9th Edition of “Malignant Self-love”)

My Wife:

You are in every carefully measured space,

In every broken word

That we had mended with

The healing hyphens of our together-

-ness.

This book, the memory of us,

A record of survival

Against all odds.

Malignant Self- gives way to love, two points, we are:

Revisited.

V. Happy 2014 (dedication on the book “Macedonian Woodcarving”)

Carved in the wood of our togetherness, entwined,

the chiseled hurt of us:

sprawled in your arms, my wounds

and your iconic smile,

Madonna of leaves and angels.

Only one unicorn we are,

sheltered behind the royal doors

to our love. And you?

My own Iconostasis.