• Poetry

    Only pain can make a writer to let off its voice

    I checked my conscience, counted my errors, one by one, or what’s left of them, such recklessly corrects by itself. And what I saw was nothing; the bones of a poet long decomposed, ending up lying under a hill from which I pushed my conscience. I guess, at a certain point, it was too heavy to hold. I took my boots and my shovel, the one with whom I also buried the part of myself who once believed he could choose quality, that he has to throw out the quantity of the equation. I started digging up my bones, just enough to upset them. Surely, a lesser crime than to…

  • Prose

    We are friends, you say

    We are friends, you say, as I lean my head on your shoulder and you hug me stronger. If I ever try to come closer to you, I know you won’t turn me down, because friends don’t do that, right? But maybe I’ll start wanting more, wanting more from you. It’s funny, we both know it’s forbidden, but we feel freer than ever. “We’re just friends,” you say. But you have that look and you unconsciously raise your eyebrow when you have something else to say, yet you choose to smile and play with my hair because it’s easier than the truth. I do the same thing, I shake my…

  • Poetry

    To please me, you have to be intellectually high

    To please me, you have to be intellectually high. You must not be limited, you must not look like anything that already has been seen before. I don’t need another deja vu in a row. I’m satisfied with the waves of infinity, a state of mind in ecstasy. If you want to come closer, be sure you are well-defined. Your viewpoints must be beyond the visible, your mind must collide with my thoughts. Sapiosexuality is my orientation. It’s my choice to physically not experience, and I dare you to come closer, with what you own. To please me, you have to believe in yourself. If I believe in you, if…

  • Poetry

    Don’t make my words get out

    Don’t make my words get out, because I won’t tell you what you want to hear. Don’t think you have that power to overtake me when I’m weak and use it for your purposes. You won’t be able to win me over, you won’t hear what you need – I will not boost your ego using words, but with silence, I will kill it. The rope with which you hold my words because of the fear that I’m going to align them in front of you will cut you, because you won’t be able to get over them. Don’t make my words get out, because my tolerance threshold will disappear.…

  • Poetry

    Rubik’s Cube

    A mystery that hardly anyone can solve. A game hardly anyone can play. A problem that barely anyone can solve. A subject that hardly anyone can manage for a long time. She was created for intelligent playing, selfish keeping and skillful observation. Her other name is Magic Cube. She’s made of undiscovered magic and unveiling. Her goal is to provoke and create problems. She wants to cause a serious loss of concentration. She can drive crazy anyone who is not consistent. Laughing treacherously at everyone, but nobody laughs at her. She was created for intelligent minds, most of them don’t dare to get closer to her. They show their true…

  • Poetry

    There’s nothing more dangerous than a woman which is well-read

    There’s nothing more dangerous than a woman which is well-read. She knows the depths in which you would immediately drown. She swims in different genres with tears in her eyes, creating unique worlds and emotions, unfamiliar to you. When she talks, she makes love with words you’ve never heard of. You and she aren’t on the same level. She doesn’t know about the rumors around her, but she’s always part of them. Laughing and proud, she has everything a man only desires. Worlds and characters arise of her which are contradicting her personality, but they fascinate her. Many novels write precisely about her, about her walk as if the whole…

  • Poetry

    Man is shaped by what everyone wants, but never into what he wants to be

    Man is appalled by another man, when exposed to the disgust of his existence. Where there is no parable and we’re all just dots at an intangible distance, too close to each other, touching, but we don’t make a difference, we only impede vision. Too similar to each other, dark and small, we don’t belong to ourselves, we don’t belong to others. But a man could never have guessed that this body would be such a burden, though it’s only a sign of punctuation, the subject of many tragedies and the inevitable part of hyperbole. The body’s being taxidermied every time it surrenders to an animal inside, to the sin,…

  • Prose

    There are two people left in the pictures, turned into a memory

    Material things don’t matter, do they? However, there’s an obvious thread that connects them with emotions, with memories awakened inside two people which are no longer one being. When they grow apart and everyone goes their own way, although the paths are unfamiliar, they leave and what’s left behind are the remains of all those little things that once seemed to be irrelevant, but they’ll never look so small again. The remains of worn out, shredded T-shirts when they made breakfast together, with a smell of a long-standing perfume combined with a scent of chocolate and a stain of wine when they celebrated an anniversary on the bedroom floor where…