• Poetry

    The distance

    The distance between us isn’t easy to calculate using miles or kilometers, fathoms, or with light-years. This distance is lively, fragile, a fluid thing, the transition between us and our life after us. Sometimes you’re so far away, as the farthest, egocentric star still visible by my modest telescope. To others, we separated by the warmth of the heart, by the width of a thin sheet of paper, the full stop with a pen, and nothing more. We seem to be moving, not just through space, but through time. Did our molecules vibrate at the same frequency in previous centuries of life? Were we friends, lovers, strangers? Do we need…

  • Poetry

    The Wind

    I will disappear with the wind, one day. I’ll become the wind in the late evening. I will be a part of untouched freedom, I will become that same freedom; I will allow its freedom to free me. One day I will disappear, I will leave numerous traces, on evening walks; in the early mornings, I will become the most beautiful part of the summer. I will also learn to fly, between strands of hair, I will consider them a challenge. I will wear different perfumes, I will enhance and destroy many moments in the remaining lives. I will become a wind someday; I will disappear with it, I’ll be…

  • Poetry

    Paradox and enigma

    You are bound by restlessness. Scared of the unknown. Cheated by the truth. Pushed in the corner. Unknown to yourself. Toxic for others. Thrown into a vortex. Ready for the ending. You crawl and disappear. Consumed by reality. Not accepting it. Forced to see it. Driven with rage. You are bound by the need. Charmed by lies. Secondary role. The main initiator. A vicious circle and fire. A moment in the meantime. Erratic chaos. You as your own burden. Lost in the void. Overloaded by pressure. Haunted by the demons. Ejected into the interspace. Possibly someone’s. Never belonging to anyone. Nowhere achieved. Inevitably neglected. Wrongly guided. Used to yourself. Imprinted…

  • Abyss of thoughts


    “Almost.” I love that word. For the space between letters. They are so close, but they never managed to be together. Like many other things and people. They never managed to merge completely. To surrender and be together. It’s always almost.

  • Poetry

    The shadow of a significant man

    I watched Death, on the side, admiring her, but I never dared to approach her. She seemed so untouchable, so intact and innocent. And then I felt her, so imminent; the bone cavity persistently echoed her name. I could smell her skin. That smell was impossible to ignore. She took me with her, with her thoughts and inside them. I stared at her for hours. It fascinated me. She stood in front of me. I was trembling and swallowing dumplings full of sin and remorse. A cold sweat came over me, emotions evoked the explosion in the eyes. I wanted to dance with her so badly, one last dance. I…

  • Poetry

    I had a dream

    I had a dream, in the broken, cold-blooded world. About a world without cracks. Where the laughter of limitless dreamers resonates and becomes the sound which breaks down into countless keys. A dream of a world where integrity runs in people’s hands, and it doesn’t run in the bloody rivers of immorality. A world where we didn’t kneel before those who don’t accept us the way we are and they want to change the essence by which we stand out. Where glass hands don’t have to hold unnecessary burdens, but they can break, freely and with ease. Cold sand welcomes my cold feet and my thoughts wander through hopelessness, while…

  • Poetry

    Porcelain eyes

    The coefficient of impedance to emotions in those blue eyes is brutally equal to a sign of everything of what are they made. Formed by fracture and sharpness by which they intersected human superficiality, they could identify more and more with the finest kind of ceramics, priceless. If they are of any material, then they are made of it. The glaze inside them isn’t similar to any other color. It’s neutral and cold, strong and rigid, unusually different. The shape of pupils, it’s taking up all the space of rationality within the boundaries of the unimaginable. Flint pieces, appearing in the corners of the eyes, filled with layers of unbearable,…

  • Poetry

    She took her pain in her hands, squeezing as never before

    As the candles began to burn, the body was ready to surrender. Waiting for the right moment, the last song started. In a well-known rhythm, with a well-known carmine, the body was ready to surrender. “What if this is just a test?“, she wondered while she was lying in the bathtub of cold water, feeling how it penetrates through the wrinkled skin, in the bones where she’s already buried. She holds a glass of red wine in her hand, while it’s gently slipping through her fingers. The water was getting darker, the candles burned so quickly… She also burned with them, her body was icy, tingles were crossing over her…