• Poetry

    You’ll have bitterness left on your tongue whenever you mention me

    I’m swallowing dumplings, full of unspoken words, which persistently roast my throat while they’re slipping, waiting for you to look at me as prey. The urge in me and the stomach-turning tells me to vomit all the secrets on the table before you, for you to eat all the rest of me. You will love everything I can’t tell you, You will laugh at my obsolete thoughts in which only you are always constant news. You will fall in love with my taste, you will fall in love with yourself. You will welcome the way my emotions are crunching when you sink your teeth that are starting to crack because…

  • Poetry

    Did she know that I’m a word that can’t be pronounced?

    Yesterday I saw the reflection of my smile as I was cutting the wire between what I am and what she sees in me. I never wanted her to walk upon it with legs built of glass. That smile cut me, full of her pain. Already sufficiently diminished to match the size of my hand, my fingers overload her body, before my pride. Even I have a conscience, no matter how filthy it is. I felt that I became only a look, disappointing, destructive, merciless, penetrating through her shell, outgrowing what she gave me, letting go of what I couldn’t give her. I will always be a representative of realism,…

  • Poetry

    Her wings are all that’s left of us

    I will hurt her in this new massacre; she will become an edge, again, moving under the dagger blade, because her wings are too small, too delicate for her to fly wherever she wants. But the desire to cut them off allows me to save her, eyes colored by the devastating sight, my screams are too quiet, simply silenced by what I see on her back, it scares me too much to cut off her wings. Is there a reason, or is this just a betrayal? She caught me wandering, in evaluating my diagnosis, in this massive post-script of my madness. She asked: “Why did you climb angels so high,…

  • Poetry

    Maze

    I guess his mind is a maze spun by silk and thin thread, unlike mine. His concerns and thoughts diminish, they bend and stretch, but they never separate. His desires and apologies, stuck in the throat; wet words burn. And his eyes bleed with love only wanderers feel. He was lost in the maze of his creations; the triumph of humanity and self-destructive hearts. He repeats his wish, never to be separated from me, but the desire is simply a doorknob that looks like home, not the door itself. You can hear the ironing of someone who isn’t himself, devaluation, a mockery of skepticism, acidic laughter through teeth, he laughs…

  • Poetry

    An oasis after the desert

    I planted the seeds in your ribs, that will fill the holes in your lungs. But you have to remember one thing: You have to water them yourself, if you want to survive. You have to open your chest, tear it and water your seeds. Because no one is capable to make you what you are, except for nature. Old, colorful and dark at the same time. There’s a labyrinth in you, a forest that evokes a sense of discomfort. All those animals that wander in you, they consider you home and use your beauty and the freedom you give them. But you, you run away from your nature, you…

  • Poetry

    It tears you that she’s first to tear you apart

    If we reap what we sow, if karma is real, if we give back what we give, then the heavy chain around her neck is her making. And silence is her consequence, and the absence is her creation. You just stepped into the mud in which she raised herself from marble. All her dead illusions dance with old delusions. Who did she bring to this world when she immigrated from her soul? A former version of her along with the present one, is carried over the edge of the world in the cages. You were in one of them, but it tears you that she’s first to tear you apart.…

  • Poetry

    The juiciest for the end

    Doesn’t everyone love to hear juicy news? Well, I have finally something to share. It actually involves you, among all the other benefits to be infinite. And no doubt you will feel proudly when you find out. Congratulations are in order. I mean, you did it, though. You targeted precisely with your bow and arrow, made from carefully chosen material to create pride. I wonder what you’ve been using. Doubts? A cocktail of ego and intelligence? Maybe a little bit of awe towards nothing except for the time you knew that it will step over your attempts to capture it in your palms. Triviality is now ahead of me. Let’s…

  • Poetry

    Have you come for work or pleasure?

    Have you come for work or pleasure? It’s always the first for you, your job to swallow the men and spit them out. Satisfaction comes after, it’s in you, it feeds you and boosts your ego. And you wouldn’t choose any other way. I trembled to knock on your door, random kisses, intentional laughs and the random hotel sex that followed, how you intentionally pulled me into the hotel bar and said “Are you for whiskey?” You know I don’t refuse whiskey, and you even less, wearing mesh stockings. Now I paint your hands on bullets, I polish the trigger. (I’m not the one you love, am I?) I collected…