Tamara Stamenkovic
  • Life after death inside myself

    I’ve never been happier then the moment I stopped believing in life after death. Not the physical one, it would be too obvious. Life after death inside us. Every time I exhaled the unfulfilled. It freed me from apathy and boredom, and again I can hear myself at night counting. But how do you count…

  • A butchered dream can last a lifetime if you nourish it well

    I feel your movements inside me, meaty taste of obedience, fractal dynamics of the ballerina. I see your bloody miniature feet leaving traces around me, at a rapid pace, and every footprint tells novels. I see you scraping your nails over the edges of your own of pre-coded existence not knowing what you’re missing until…

  • If you sell your soul, you will become a wine on Devil’s lips

    They say, if you sell your soul, you will become a wine on Devil’s lips, bitter, but sweet, toxic, thick. They say, if you make that pact at the intersection, at midnight on Friday, with the shadow of a bloody hole, you’ll be gifted, damned, I don’t know. Transparency runs from the bite on my…

  • If you see her, say hello to her

    If you see her, say hello to her, she left me last fall in the park, on a bench -I never thought to bring her back. If she asks how I am, tell her I’m fine. She might ask if I forgot her, tell her I am, long time ago. If you see her, say…

  • Dreams never die

    I never realized that darkness conveyed chaos until I opened my eyes before it. I found myself surrounded by freshly painted walls in white, on the left and right, plastic green chair, silk curtains, and all the doors were identical. What pierced my ears were the high-frequency voices of people and machines running out of…

  • Split up before and after our impulses

    In desperation, we lie, we deceive sensibilities, we’re losing fairly, bluffing only with the existence in the darkness that surrounds us, as if it swallows us with the eyes with a scalpel which hangs on the lower eyelids. The space between us could be one room, one continent, which yawns, split up before and after…

  • I will become a drop in your eye

    I will become a drop in your eye, which will slip from time to time down your face, but it won’t fall. You will wipe me, you’ll get me off, with the conviction that it’s over. But it’s just beginning… I’ll be a reflection of your look in the mirror when you’re looking for me.…

  • Ghosts don’t always come in the human form

    Do you know the feeling of coldness and death on your neck that sneaks up on you surprisingly, always behind you, one anxiety closer to you? The feeling when your skin shiver for a moment or two. You can feel it, even now, always whispering and lurking. But, when it comes, it grabs you by…