• Poetry

    Do I dare to immortalize you?

    Do I dare to make you immortal? If I turn every person I’ve loved into ink I won’t have time to invent new planets. If I don’t invent new planets, I won’t have anyone to take there. I’ll throw clichés in passing, flower by flower, my metaphors for just one honest feeling. I’ll collect them, forever, because for a moment they make me alive. I will write their names in black on the back of the book, and then I will treat them like pressed flowers which always attracted me along the roads of promiscuity. And I’ll buy time by ripping them off the ground until I dare to make…

  • Poetry

    I believe I can from scratch tailor my beginning

    I give reality a chance, but I don’t blindly go to its chambers, I don’t fall easily to every noise like when I was a kid. I surrender to the world who spreads its arms to hug me or crush me, I’m taking a risk. I only squat to peek through the cut in my right palm, to remind me how I was bleeding to protect what was mine. And I remember forgetting, because it’s easier to press your eyelids with your thumbs but to let the pain pour out and sink you. But I give these walls a chance which diminish me as soon as I speak out loud…

  • Self-knowledge through words

    Insecurity

    Do you know what insecurity is and where it lies? Are you insecure? Are we all a bit like that? That insecurity is skillfully hidden and camouflaged. One moment it will occur in the form of clothes, another moment it will be adjusted in your playlist, and the next it will be in the way you present yourself to people. Insecurity. How long has it been since you reached your hands in the mass of people staring at the sky, looking forward to the pouring rain? Instead, you fit into that same mass and blend in with it. You become monochrome in a circle of people with the same aura-…

  • Poetry

    I am a man reluctant to call himself the man

    Please me. Win me. This time I’m handing over my bones, please me, split them in half, then crush them. Taste my loss, although I may not deserve it, but today is such a day, and I live from the night. I don’t know about disciplines, I don’t appreciate them. I don’t obey the backbone of rules and order, sooner, I break mine, so that I don’t carry others’ mistakes. I only know digression from what my weak emotion dictates. That’s why I step away, that’s why I’m giving you permission to take advantage of this day, in a variation of my nights. Here you go. I can’t explain my…

  • Poetry

    Skeletons scattered all over the carpet

    You ask me what to do with all that love; Drink it, swallow it, then vomit, just don’t get the carpet dirty, on which lie my favorite skeletons. And what to do with all these wishes? Just cough them up so you can drink them again. How can you ask me? All I’ve learned is how to defend myself from others, but not how to let them go. I will always be half present, half alive, selfishly keeping someone by their side. I feel so much, and yet I get none of it. No, only keep eating that love. Swallow it. Slide into my eyelids. Never let them know that…

  • Poetry

    What’s (not) possible

    Your love, too, has become foreign language for me that I like to listen to, but I don’t understand it. Of your favorite music, which was at dusty closet, I remember how you could barely find those records, a replacement for the peace you sought. I barely found you crossing dusty roads and encountering unexpected turns. Previously, fights had brought us together. They often helped us to understand each other, to show the hidden sides of fear and mystery. Now, fights bring only silence -unbearable and endless. By pointing to multiple sides of us, what we were and what we’re not now. Just like in the old days, but we…

  • Prose

    Energy vampires

    Have you met people who make you exhausted and weak and make your presence superfluous? People who make your character intermittent and your thoughts incomplete? Have you ever met people who are morbid, who only suck someone else’s energy up and carry it in their abyss, collect and absorb it, to later reflecting it in you? They can stretch the last piece of your skin, tear it off and make from you just a skeleton of fragile bones hidden under that glowing, bright skin, under which they escape. Yes, you know these people, and you become like them. All of them aim to become a group of different people, to…

  • 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…