• Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    Regeneration of self

    I’m bending my ear, with my fingers I enclose its parabolic lobe. Twitching comes with unusual pain, like a memory. I’m trying to listen to human’s questions, can he consume himself as he regenerates into transience. The skin separates from the surface, and the peeling of ourselves isn’t as complicated as it seems. We all do it, we drag time…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    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…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    A disguised farce of lies

    I was born with reversed skin, like a stolen whisper from another dimension. My skin wasn’t tangible to others, it wasn’t visible. And I can’t lie; I was a snack to a truth that mercilessly bite my neck. / I hear a crack in my vein / The truth is that I’m a lie that needs another lie to create…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    The violin

    This time I managed to read her thoughts, with slight finger movements I held her in my hands. “Play upon me… until your fingers bleed” I know her very well, I know her weak points; there are four, pure Quinta. I’m her luthier, I know her best. I grabbed her by the neck, I met her with my left hand…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    A special kind of animal

    I’m a special kind of animal, I crave to try human flesh. I want to taste the poisoned blood mixed with the purity of your heart at the same time. I long to feel your inner beauty, with a smile on my face and relief in my stomach after. To swallow love and hate, in one try. I want to…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    Boomerang

    I can freely describe myself as a weapon that people often play with, not realizing that they are losing even before the game started. I often refer to the one that others throw, but I keep coming back and stand in front of them or behind. It depends if they show me the right face or they turn their backs…

  • Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

    Human shell with a bloody pearl

    Discover me if you want to taste a lifeless soul. I challenge you, but I don’t care if you will try. Does that make sense? And if not, I don’t care about your opinion. I’m confined to the context in which you want to frame me persistently as if I were only sketches without any significant lines. I’m cruel, I…