7 hours

Dimineata aceasta imi aduce aminte de dimineata cealalta.
Cafeaua cu doua lingurite de zahar imi aduce aminte de un bar imbracat in lemn ciocolatiu.
Soarele din centrul orasului imi aduce aminte de marea anului trecut.
Magazinul inundat cu lumina neonului imi aduce aminte de un film vazut ca prin vis.
Persoana din fata mea imi aduce aminte de o durere interminabila de cap.
Caldura ce se ingramadeste in tricoul negru imi aduce aminte de o vara lenesa.
A treia melodie ascultata imi aduce aminte de ceva ce-am uitat sa fac ieri.
Curtea cu pomi inverziti imi aduce aminte de tricicleta copilariei.
Pixul negru imi aduce aminte de un vechi caiet de geografie.
Lotiunea de pe brate imi aduce aminte de un pat mare si imbibat in apa sarata.
Pisica de pe banca imi aduce aminte de miracolul existentei.
Papucii bleumarin imi aduc aminte de un pod luminat cu panglici galbene.
Ochii plini de litere imi aduc aminte de patru ani aproape incheiati.
Unghiile decojite imi aduc aminte de un cos cu portocale.
Linistea imi aduce aminte de seara cand m-ai blestemat.
Ceaiul din afine imi aduce aminte de niste saptamani magice.
Telefonul rosu imi aduce aminte de prima oara cand am refuzat iubirea.
Pielea ce-mi inconjoara incheieturile imi aduce aminte de nucile crude de la tara.
Universul imi aduce aminte de ceva de rimeaza cu "viata".

The 86th floor

I sometimes feel the Universe amounts to
my own persona.
I am the sky.The blackest of birds.
The old chair I read upon.
The tales of heart and blood that flow
as if they were rivers of charcoal ink.
The beaming sun.The waves of silence.
The anxiety which sends men
into oblivion.The careless ant.
The fish that swim from veins to dreams.
The unturned page of yesterday's wish.
The shadow cast upon  a broken leaf.
The maggot which cripples my stomach
in times of pain and sorrow.
The hat that reminds me of the word "cancer".
The smell of wet earth on a scorching
day.The repetitive projection that stands
between reality and myth.
The glass of water which turned to dust.
The gate composed of emerald and iron.
The sad look of misunderstood adolescents.
The prayer that tickled God's ear.
The perfume that never comes off
a dress.
The child which still believes.
The filthy liquid of a bathtub.
The light bulb which never leaves the ceiling.
The whole wide world.
I sometimes feel I could expand
into a new song.

Let's talk!

I love dreaming about beautiful people.
I hate waking up with the feeling that my shoulders are heavier than yesterday.
I love a good breakfast.
I hate the fact that I hate myself after a good breakfast.
I love taking long walks with my father and talking about random things that mean a lot to us.
I hate having led feet and tired eyes.
I love watching a show that makes me laugh and cry at the same time.
I hate that some people don't understand the fact that it is possible to become emotionally attached to fictional characters/places/things.
I love sunbathing in my own backyard.
I hate ending up with a sunburn after just one hour of relaxation in my deck chair.
I love reading books,preferably in English.
I hate the fact that I get too involved in every single story I read.
I love listening to the song that's tattooed on my left wrist.
I hate those lyrics that remind me of the time I cried my soul out on the old couch.
I love the way the moon shines through the window where my orchid watches over the other flowers.
I hate remembering there's evil in this world.
I love surrounding myself with amazing things and brilliant people.
I hate thinking about the future in terms of rules and obligations.

"It is more natural for the heart to write than to speak."

Two chairs and one book

Imi place sa descopar lucruri noi.Lucruri marunte.De exemplu,cat traieste un trandafir rosu.Sau cum reuseste un cameleon sa-si schimbe culoarea.Cati oameni au atins bluza pe care o port.Daca valurile se recicleaza singure.Cate ore am dormit de cand m-am nascut.Daca exista vreun scriitor care sa-si fi adorat opera in timpul vietii.Ce gandeste un degustator de vinuri cand citeste o carte despre struguri.Cate stele au existat in Univers pana acum.Cum miros florile de mar.Si altele.

Imi place sa merg.As merge pe oriunde si pe orice.Pe holul imbracat in gresia de culoarea algelor fericite.Pe trotuarul prafuit.Pe pamantul din gradina unui necunoscut.Pe aleea care leaga printr-o linie imaginara maternitatea de cimitir.Pe covorul unui prieten pe care nu l-am mai vazut din copilarie.Pe culoarul unor vise care nu s-au implinit.Pe drumul ce duce catre liceul cu literatura prinsa in carti.Pe nisipul din statiunea pe care am ajuns s-o iubesc.Pe patul ce-mi gazduieste noptile scurte.Si pe altele.

Imi place sa iubesc.Iubire de dragul iubirii.Iubesc soarele in tonuri de coral.Comediile proaste.Pantofii cu talpa subtire.Oamenii imperfecti si geniali.Zatul care lasa floricele negre in palma chiuvetei din bucatarie.Portugheza.Calendarul cu zile inca goale.Oboseala de la sfarsitul unei zile productive.Cuvintele lui F.Scott Fitzgerald.Bratarile aurii.Poeziile pe care nu le inteleg.Zambetele ce nu au nevoie de un motiv ca sa se deschida.Si altele.

Leap of distrust

I've never felt complete in my life.Not in the arms of my mother,not in the silence of a prayer,not in the embrace of a friend.Spaces sprout in the lining of my soul all the time and fill themselves with nothingness.I sometimes wonder how my body refrains from collapsing under the weight of my own mind.

I need a friend.But I don't want a friend.Still,I need one.Just like you need a jacket at the beginning of spring,even though all you want is to undress and let the blooming sun heal your skin.Still,you don't want to catch a cold.

I've never been good at making friends.As I child,I would isolate myself in my own being,or cling to people that would eventually accept me out of pity.Yet I never forgot that.The feeling that I'm merely a Cocker Spaniel looking for a treat.Obviously,I was seeking love.And attention.And approval from someone who did not share my blood.Someone who could be brutally honest.Someone who would not be compelled by nature and/or society to consider me important.Maybe I found that special individual at some point.I didn't recognize him,though.

You'd think that growing up solves all of your problems and makes you progressively wiser.Well,I wouldn't bet my money on that...When I was 10,I could walk barefoot and never bleed one drop.I'm now 19 years old and I never take off my boots.Still,the sores never get any better.

I have become excessively nice.Like "would-you-like-more-sugar-with-your-sugar,-sugar?" nice.And I don't need a psychologist to tell me I'm overcompensating.His words would be something along the lines of  " a deep and rooted perception of inferiority is leading the patient to believe that prolonged servile behavior is needed in order to receive the acceptance of society".My words would agree with his words,but in a less smarter way.Needless to say,I know why I'm doing what I'm doing.But that doesn't prevent me from doing it.Still,it hurts.

I don't believe in true friendship.That doesn't automatically imply that I deny its existence-it just isn't something for me.This type of connection requires trust,vulnerability,truthfulness,understanding and so much more.I'm rubbish with most of them.Still,I can lie myself out of situations in which they are mandatory.All in all,it's fair trade.

I've accepted my limitations long ago.But,once in a while,there comes this solitary and breathtaking proof that a higher human bond can be achieved.And it is being achieved right now,somewhere,by someone.And I can't help but feel barren.Deprived.Ashamed of my own narrowness.And the tears that stream down my face for someone else's pain become the mourning of a more personal loss:that of thought prevailing over sentiment.Still,it remains a lost battle.

I've never felt complete in my life.So I raise a glass of coffee to all of those who have found true friendship.May you love,be loved and love for me as well!

77

timpul este bateria ceasului,mandria,
inima si decaderea sa;daca am pune
toate ceasurile din lume intr-o singura
camera,ne-am speria;si am amuti;si ne-am
inchina;caci "timpul" este un simplu
cuvant doar pana cand ni se intampla noua-
ceea ce ni se intampla mereu;prin urmare,
realitatea devine cu mult mai infricosatoare
decat dictionarul;chiar daca incerc sa schitez
viitorul,mintea mea se pierde printre
umbre si se plange ca nu-i ajunge creionul;
noi,oamenii! sfidam imposibilul,dar nu
ne putem imagina batrani!propun
un elogiu al varstei uitate:venerati
ultimul act al piesei,venerati-l!
nu pentru boala,nici pentru pacate-
venerati-l pentru perseverenta;pentru curaj;
pentru triumful asupra tuturor ceasurilor
care si-au lasat minutele in craniu si-n
carne;fructul este gustat cu voluptate
de multi,iar samanta data la o parte-
numai pamantul poate spune cine ramane
si cine rasare...gloria nu apune
odata cu uitarea,insa nici clipele nu
se prelungesc la infinit-
un pahar in cinstea ceasornicarilor umili!

Sliding into the dark

nu-mi place alarma rau-prevestitoare,
asa cum nu-mi mai plac nici diminetile
in care ma asteapta
o cafea rece.
citesc si uit,uit si citesc,informatia
ma arde pana in miezul necopt-
ce este mai rau decat un travaliu sterp?
nu-mi place rutina apasatoare,
asa cum nu-mi mai plac nici noptile
in care ma sugruma
un pat de cuie.
privesc si ma doare,ma doare si privesc,uitarea
ar veni ca un balsam fluid-
ce este mai frumos decat fericirea inconstienta?
toti pasii ma duc spre maine,
de parca toti magnetii din lume ar fi
cu un pas inainte pe fusul orar.
vreau acum,vanataia de pe brat,
sarutul de pe frunte,pantofii cu flori
si restul...dar nu.nu pot sa-mi ridic
palmele peste ochi,asa cum nu pot
sa-mi colorez rasul in alta nuanta
decat gri.
s-au lipit perdelele de geam
si podeaua aluneca teribil...

Burlesque aberrations

"Lesson of the day:you are stupid!"-that is the indirect revelation with which I was greeted on a dull Monday morning.Not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the carelessness of its flight,this bird has struck me as being the sad reflection of an owner that resembles his mascot more than he should.Taking into consideration the hour,the date,even the young minds towards which it was directed,I'm inclined to say our sparrow poses as an eagle when,in reality,it should not.

What makes you a better human being than me?What qualifies you as more of a person than me?Why should I be stamped as one of many when I am clearly unique?And who do you think you are to be giving prophecies about the present and the future as if you were God himself?!

I'm not mean and I don't support the idea of vengeance.I'm simply disappointed.Disappointed that the ones who should broaden our minds only end up in perpetuating bitterness and resent.Discouraged by words as sharp as knives,blasted in the direction of souls that,in the end,seek only healing comfort.Ashamed of the fact that,for some,the years have passed without leaving a mark of wisdom,as rain is never remembered by the waxed skin of a car.

More or less,I have been accused of not showing my true self on demand.For,and I quote from memory,"one does not wait around to scoop your potential with a spoon".In my defense,I couldn't care less.Who I am is all I have.What lies within the skeleton of my spirit represents my being in its purest and most personal form.And I'll be damned if I ever let it be on display for someone who only wants to see it reduced to a pile of bones through whatever method may be necessary!I'd rather be a shadow,not some blinding light of frail existence.The hopes,the dreams,the concepts and the principles I cling to are mine and mine only.If I wish to share them with my peers,then so be it!But do not ask of me to parade my core as if it were a bad burlesque show in the eyes of poisonous old men!My mind is not a whore and I am willing to pay the price of my silence if it results in me keeping the cage unlocked.

My definition does not come from a piece of paper,nor does it resume to one cycle of the clock.I am not forced by man or nature to share my knowledge (of book or life) in exchange for a vapid number.My consciousness is clean because I do not compromise when it comes to the very things that manage to keep me sane.So you can talk all you want about the decline of my generation and the ones to come-I already know I'm not just a figure in a statistic.I'm here.I'm now.I am me,regardless of winds and decrepit longings.

Fear,cake and water

Fear is a bitch.Everlasting when the environment breeds black holes,fierce as a lioness in solitude-yes,fear conquers all and everything,even if the storm is only a dagger in the horizon's chest.Still,the disease takes shape:trembling body,poisoned mind,numb being.Fear is my greatest punishment.

Cake is required during any shape or form of celebration,regardless of time,tide and emotion.More than a symbol,less of a rarity,this sacred pastry king has become the universal clock of those who wish to eat away their anxiety.For time is easier to swallow when sugar-coated...Cake is sad,but equally joyous.

Water is the element towards which I am ceaselessly drawn.Floating in the sky,lurking in the ground,caressing marble statues,even binding organs-water,my water!Why are you an ocean in my bathtub?I'd hate to admit that the stars were right!Water is a marvelous addiction.

"you can only blame your problems on the world for so long"

Tingling bones

si mi-am uitat inima pe un pat de

rumegus.si nu mai am venin de

adunat sub limba.si-mi curge sange

binecuvantat prin venele de plus.si

vreau sa ma supar pe ploaia ancorata

in camp.si nu pot sa ma supar pe

ploaia care-mi umple plamanii cu

un balsam din taciune si smarald.

si uit de maine cu desavarsire.si

astazi am aruncat ceasurile sub

umbra unui salcam.si ieri numaram

cu unghiile-ngropate-n brat margelele

de pe un rozariu pagan.si ma

inchin in fata unui foc stacojiu ce

purifica.si zambesc in spatele soarelui

poleit.si universul se reduce

la o mana de pamant ud si

gras.si ma agat de umerii celor

care-mi masoara dragostea in dragostea

lor.si ma tem pentru fericirea mea.

si las melodia amiezii sa-mi

inunde ochii.si rad sub arcul

unui curcubeu neasteptat.si ma 

intorc intr-un cuib tocit.si ma gadila

epuizarea in articulatii si oase.si mi-am

gasit inima in patul copilariei.

Conflicting indecisions

umarul se-ngroapa-n carnea tocului de lemn,
iar apa ochiului se intoarce la pamant:
"Ce fac?","Incotro?" si "De ce?"
rasuna in cap precum un uragan
surghiunit intr-un borcan-surd si colosal.
panica se prelinge,se loveste de stomac,
zdruncina oase si crapa un ideal;
ploua peste cires,ziua n-are culoare,
pictura reala din fata-mi pare
un experiment suprarealist esuat-
si bubuie furtuna,bubuie intre coaste,
taie in materie cerebrala cruda.
vad paianjeni,aud cucuvele,
rad de mine si ma opresc:
cateodata,imi vine sa-mi iau capul
intre maini si sa-l aplatizez
in inima primului perete alb
dintre orizont si prezent- s-ar opri
avalansa gandurilor sau s-ar inteti?
inca nu stim,inca nu stim...
chiar si asa,un ceas si-o cana de venin
negru sunt de-ajuns sa orbeasca obscuritatea
urmatorului pas.
in final,sangele primeaza,drumul purifica,
iar sufletul isi primeste botezul...

The corner of the sofa

...is where my body contracts and
my mind roams free:I am the sea
of a song's melancholic chorus,I am
a tale of gilded triumph,I am
an enclosed cosmos that neither hurts nor
suffers.Those outside the gates see a cocoon,
but this butterfly is beyond their reach-
how many lands have I seen drawn
upon the ivory skin of a page!How deep
can a voice resonate in a man when
his head becomes a violin!How extraordinary
does this world appear to be when seen
from afar and through the right screen!
I am weak.I need a shield.Not
iron,not steel.Cotton.Lace.Dreams.
Noises.Lies and warmth.Oblivion and
comfort.I am the product of my
own imagination,cast in glass and
torn apart by hands of realistic fate.
Let me be!Let me be the exception!
Let me be a mistake!A perpetual
child that calls his home an empire
of blankets,scribbles and books!
Let me believe I can die a better soul,
even though my existence resumes to
the corner of the sofa...

Sheer insanity

I don't know what I want.
I'm lost and reckless.
I have no real motivation.
I'm scared out of my wits.
I'm insecure about everything.
I don't consider myself important.
I get easily distracted from my targets.
I'm selfish and vain.
I'm always wasting time.
I'm tired.
I'm constantly complaining.
I'm afraid of life.

I can create wonders with my mind and hands.
I take care of others and become a mother for those in need.
I constantly seek beauty in both Heaven and the gutter.
I love wholeheartedly and judge as little as possible.
I keep my problems to myself,as the burden of one should not become the curse of many.
I value empathy more than gold.
I am grateful for the wisdom that has come through years of wandering in the darkness of my own self.

All in all,I am a paradox.

Wearing thin

I don't have great days.I have nice days.I have bearable days.Once in a while,I'll get a day in which I feel pretty much content.But,must of the time,I have half-days.They suffer from what I like to call the "calm before the storm" syndrome and often show signs of bipolarity.This means that,basically,I can never fully be happy because I know something awful is close behind,just waiting to unfold.At some point in time and space,my brain got the idea that you can't have good without evil,full stop.And by full stop I mean a barrel-size dot on a post-it note.Also, may I please point out that I'm clearly abusing the term "happy"-like,who do I think I am to simply stroll in and demand a serene and emotionally stable existence?But I simply don't want to keep waking up each morning with the feeling that I'm going to die.Or worse.

I can't concentrate anymore."I confess,I'm a mess"-accurate lyrics are accurate.I can't study because,the minute I decide to sit down and open a book,my brain just goes on vacation in the land of Things That Shall Never Happen In A Million Years' Time.I don't want to study because everything seems so impersonal,vapid,dull and imposed that I feel repulsion towards all things related to the school agenda.I won't study because I'm lazy and I'll end up raising and breeding goats.And I'm scared.And I don't want to grow up.And I want to crawl under a rock for the rest of eternity.

I feel guilty.I'm useless.I feel guilty. I'm wasting so much and producing so little,it's not even worth it anymore.I am guilty.And there's nothing that could convince me otherwise.

A long way away from home

"Home is where the heart is"-if so,then my heart is scattered all over the Universe,clinging to souls beyond beauty and bliss.

I love you when you're happy and I hate you when you're sad.That's all.

Nature never fails to frighten and inspire me.My heart trembles with joy and races with anxiety.Even so,amazement triumphs over insecurity.

I only wish I could divide my body to bond the desires of my mind with those of reality.

What is a celebration without family,food and joy?Nothing,I tell you!Nothing!

The green fields of today replace the memory of dark corners,while wedding trees flood my eyes-I am in Heaven,I am free,I am able to see the meaning of all creation in just one grain of life.

Even if a dress represents a goal,it's not worth ruining the already fragile relationship between you and yourself.

Long journeys.Music flooding the air and the smiles of all the people in the navy blue car.Sunny skies.

Everything seems easier while you're moving and nothing makes the present sink in like boxes and bags on the front steps of a house.

 I end up losing a little bit of faith and gaining a little bit of wisdom each time I make the stupid mistake of confiding in someone I care about. 

Conquering the world seems like an exquisite idea to put into practice...tomorrow.

I will never get over blue eyes.I will never deny myself the truth of my imagination.I will never regret the sensation of being charmingly exhausted.

Celebration and realization

Patul ma detesta,asta mi-o spune fiecare os din corp.Dupa o asemenea noapte,nu-i de mirare ca pana si dimineata mohorata triumfa.

Zi de sarbatoare,zi de bucurie,de ce nu simt nimic special in numele tau?

Chiar daca ti-e bine,chiar daca tragedia este minora,iti doresti in anumite momente sa taca Universul si sa vorbesti tu.

Fie ca ne place sau nu,toate se invart intr-un cerc al timpului si se ciocnesc de aceleasi numere din calendare schimbate periodic.

Pana la urma,nu conteaza titlul pe care si-l asuma o anumita data sau alta.Ceea ce conteaza este sa iubesti,sa razi si sa-ti imparti miracolele cu cei din jur.

"Perfectiune" nu este tocmai cuvantul pe care l-as asocia cu familia,dar acesta este chiar avantajul.Suntem diferiti,aruncati de destin intr-un context social incontestabil si trebuie sa ne descurcam in situatia prezenta.Daca ma intrebati pe mine,zic ca ne descurcam admirabil.

Soarele straluceste si prin perdeaua mea,primavara a gasit pana la urma adresa pe care i-am trimis-o acum prea mult timp.

In ocazii rare si minunate,dau peste anumite aspecte ale realitatii care ma conving de faptul ca nu sunt singura in trairi pe aceasta lume.

Ma pregatesc de drum si de necunoscut,asa cum fac zilnic.

Pajamas day

Here are 10 reasons why wearing pajamas all day long is totally awesome:

• it reminds you of childhood and hot chocolate and unicorns and other such magical things 
• you will become 51% more efficient while cleaning your room and 102% more prone to dancing like a circus monkey while the previous activity is still developing
• we all have that one pair that we'd like to be buried in-that's why I strongly recommend you make the best of it now,while you're still fully aware of things!
• the sensation is second best to being naked and less disturbing for your neighbors!
• you are to be automatically excused from all social conventions and chores because,obviously,you're already wearing your "chillin' " outfit 
• tears are better absorbed by long sleeves and the overall loose fitting will allow you to laugh like a wild walrus at whatever tickles your fancy
• when friends inquire "Dude,what did you do today?",you only have to say "Man,I stayed in my pj's all day." and the "Lazy Protocol" is set into motion without further information or warning
• seriously,does one really need a reason to wear pajamas all day long?!
• they're comfortable,warm,secure,fluffy and never go out of fashion
• pajamas are a gift from the gods and should be respected accordingly-and,by respect,I mean they should be stained with hot coffee,hugged and worn until they disintegrate

And that,my friends,is why I have to get out of the house more often.

Pagan vibe

Dimineata seamana atat de mult cu cea din urma! Intregul scenariu devine deja patetic de reconfortant.

Chipurile care ma intampina pe hol sunt grabite si necunoscute pentru aceasta zi a saptamanii.Chiar si asa,nu ma deranjeaza.Macar mai dispare alura de conventie.

Placerile nevinovate sunt repetate la infinit,pe cand granita dintre multumire si plictis se sterge progresiv.

Nu ma intorc in copilarie,nu ma agat de amintiri,nu incerc sa recreez ceva care apartine altui timp.

Un scaun asezat sub soare,povesti sonore eliberate prin casti,pisici cu mustati albe si o dupa-amiaza petrecuta sub ciresul inflorit-nu regret,nu regret nimic!

Rosul este doar o culoare,nu un simbol.O simpla si nevinovata culoare ce zace in maci si-n vene.Atat.

Uneori,cel mai bun refugiu este in realitatea altora.

Cel mai groaza imi este de teama insasi si de clipele fara savoare.De aceea,apelez la seriale,dulciuri si amagitoarea senzatie de uitare totala.

Relatiile umane pot fi impartasite si la distanta.Chiar imbunatatite."Some people are easier to love when you don't have to be around them."-am citit asta undeva.Candva.Mi-a placut si m-a intristat.

N-am niciodata timp.Poate ca timpul nu a fost si nu va fi niciodata al meu.Pe marea axa a istoriei,sunt doar un punct mobil si nedefinit.Totusi,mi-e bine si nu ma plang.Stiu ca se putea si mai rau.

M-a parasit rabdarea.Si ea,ca si multe alte virtuti rebele, a realizat ca n-are ce cauta pe domeniul unei fiinte atat de insipide.C'est la vie!

Din nu stiu ce motiv nastrusnic,ma simt cel mai treaza atunci cand pun capul pe perna.Simultan,este cel mai lucid moment al maratonului de 24 de ore-stampila de intuneric pusa pe o foaie de lumina.Sa ma infricosez sau sa sarbatoresc?

Ordinary miracle

we take for granted
the birds,
the songs,
the rain that falls
in ivory and white petals
from the always silent sky.
we take for granted
our fingers,
our blood,
our right to hate
all the things which make liberty
more of a burden and less of a bliss.
we take for granted
the tears,
the dreams,
the tragedies which later make us
grow steel instead of skin.
we take for granted
our maps,
our dull facts,
our unrequited pains that lead the way
to wrath.
we take for granted
all the small things that make
life big.

A single book

M-am jurat de nu stiu cate ori pana acum ca nu o sa mai citesc deloc,nici macar eticheta de pe spatele tubului de sampon.Am blestemat nenumarate carti pentru palpitatiile si lacrimile fictive provocate de-a lungul a peste 200 de pagini.Totusi,nu ma las.Ma enervez si-mi iau doza.Regret.Repet.Tipic!

Ma credeti sau nu,am o relatie foarte agresiva cu lectura.Ignorand modul dubios in care a sunat fraza precedenta,permiteti-mi sa detaliez.De exemplu,ma apuc de o carte si o detest,sa zicem,pe parcursul primelor 99 de pagini din 100.De renuntat,nu renunt la ea (alt efect secundar al piticilor care locuiesc in triburi risipite prin scoarta mea cerebrala ).Ei,ultima nenorocita de pagina ma face sa ma indragostesc iremedial si definitiv,lasandu-ma in proverbiala "balta de emotii".Din nou,ma enervez,incerc sa descifrez logica din spatele acestui tip de comportament,esuez lamentabil,repet.Tipic!

De asemenea,prefer sa citesc in locuri unde pot sa devin una cu mediul.De ce?Pentru ca nu vreau sa fiu descoperita si trimisa la casa de nebuni (deocamdata).O sa ma cert cu personaje care nu ma pot auzi.O sa incep sa cant cel mai random cantec,totul pornind de la un cuvant aruncat pe pagina 14,randul al 22-lea.O sa imi lipesc ochii de cerneala in ras,plans,teama,fericire,suspans si cate alte trairi fara nume.Pe scurt,o sa ma comport in cel mai natural mod cu putinta,daca este sa corelam definitia cuvantului "natural" cu persoana in cauza.
Incep sa observ un element recurent in toata povestea asta: la sfarsitul fiecarei carti,indiferent de circumstante,ma trezesc spunand o singura fraza.Rezumatul unei intregi aventuri imaginare.Apogeul unei noi experiente sentimentale.Elogiul adus unui autor si travaliului sau literar.Cand ultima pagina,reala sau virtuala,este intoarsa,concluzionez:"SON OF A BITCH!".De obicei,acum sunt deja distrusa si incapabila de un argument logic,asa ca inchid ochii,imi iau fata in palme si ma cert cu aerul.Stiu,stiu,abundenta de eleganta si rafinament!Tipic!
Intr-o buna zi,o sa uit sa si respir din cauza unei carti.Totusi,nu-mi pot imagina un mod mai frumos de a pieri...

Cold feet

man is more alike a match
than he would dare admit-
for he burns and glistens and beams
beyond his flesh and skin...
but his reign is short,destined
to illuminate just one corner
of the darkest room that is the
Universe...
fool!you fool!you're always lying
to this soul,trapped inside a dough
so fragile,so disturbed...
you promised.then,you panicked.
you compromised.you lost your own
game.in the end,it was all
flames,no heat,just the shell
of what could have been a king.
man is scared out of
his wits and too numb
to change his fate-
a boat without a captain
in the mist of a crimson flare...

Sparkle!

All I want is to ...
...write poetry that reflects who I am and what I have become.
...drink coffee and stare at the rain.
...listen to music until my ears collapse into sweet serenity.
...read books that change your life and blossom in your soul over the years.
...abuse my imagination to the point of a new and personal Big Bang.
...meet amazing,beautiful,interesting people and let the magic unfold.
...see the world and let it see me.
...surround myself with flowers,pretty colours and cups of aromatic tea.
...feel,process,create,repeat.
...learn new things at my own pace.
...be able to love with all my heart.
...make every day count and  each smile a picture of the truth.
...be myself and happy at the same time.

Flowers for the dead

Frig.Ploaie.Cimitire.Oricine s-ar feri de combinatia asta,indiferent de gradul de morbiditate aferent.Insa...Insa inevitabilul are drepturile lui si,pe deasupra,iubeste maratoanele.

Uneori,mortii au nevoie de flori.Iar prognoza meteo ori stabilitatea emotionala curenta nu fac parte din programul prestabilit.Desigur,nu stim sigur daca gestul face sau nu vreo diferenta pentru cei care nu mai sunt,dar el conteaza pentru cei ramasi in urma.

Durerea este de mii de ori mai puternica decat fericirea si nu dispare niciodata,la fel ca o rana ce se incapataneaza sa nu-si inchida buzele."Timpul vindeca"-fals!Timpul acopera si te forteaza sa reintri intr-un normal mai sarac,dar nu este nici varianta imateriala de superglue,nici vreo divinitate.Cateodata,se intrece pe sine,inducandu-te intr-o transa care nu te lasa sa deranjezi carnea vremurilor negre apuse.Aici intervin florile,acest pansament organic al sufletelor nelinistite si al pamantului mult prea gras de sub pantofi.

In definitiv,florile sunt o scuza.Lumanarile seamana prea mult cu un cutit incins,iar o pereche de maini goale sugereaza abandonul,chiar indiferenta.Asa ca,in mod ironic,rupem din natura ca sa oferim tot ei,leaganul ce ne ridica si patul care ne primeste eternitatea.

Pentru mine,cimitirele sunt un camp de lupta.Amintirile navalesc precum o perdea de gloante.Numele unui necunoscut imi arde mintea si sufletul,fie numai si pentru o singura secunda.Piatra tine locul persoanei,pe cand lemnul devine un ceas involuntar.Pe buna dreptate,acesta este locul unde intrebarea "De ce?" pare si mai searbada,si mai pierduta,si mai personala.

Vii,stai,pleci.Atat.Nu-ti permiti sa deranjezi prea mult rana,nu ai voie.De dragul tau si de dragul altora,te agati de imaginea unui scop stupid si te ineci in balsamul ei.Nu poti sa alegi alta cale,alt tratament.Ignoranta are meritele ei.

Astazi,am dus flori mortilor.M-a plouat,mi-au inghetat degetele,am suspinat si am trecut mai departe.Stiu ca cicatricea aceasta nu va exista vreodata.

Among strangers

chipurile de zi cu zi se risipesc
in urma mea precum un voal prins
in pragul casei de nebuni;
din hol pana in strada,
din bulevard pana in lanuri,
din retina pana in plamani,
teroarea poarta masca zbuciumului strunit,
anonim numitor comun...
as vrea sa le stiu povestea,secretele
ingropate sub plapuma intunericului,
lupta,victoria,as vrea sa simt
ca suntem unul ramificat,nu diagrame
ce abia se intalnesc...
dar nu indraznesc!ma tem si ma multumesc
sa le etichetez drept proiectii tipice
ale unor vicii de carne sau de suflet;
este mai usor,este mai comod,alina
identitatea si o pastreaza intacta-
"sunt pilonul care sustine viata
si ma am doar pe mine ca dovada
a realului tangibil."-gresesc sau am ghicit
unghiul prismei?
acum incepe lupta,se ciocnesc titanii
de idei si de principii...vad manechine
pentru ca instinctul de supravietuire
triumfa in fata binelui.

A cup of rain

I am 70% water and the drought
has come to an end:
drizzle falls from the sky like a sheet
that once held gods and hopes
between its folds-
breathless and pure,marvelous and sad,
I'm glad that umbrella died
in gray and sweet contortion,
with a wooden cradle for a grave!
this rain is Heaven sent
and I'm not trading emotion for
an illness woven by medicated thought!
it's rough and wonderful and stupid
how a baby-hurricane can open
the gates of such a frail kingdom,
my kingdom...
it's on skin,piercing eyelids,rushing
through tired veins,flooding lungs
and connecting nerves-it's alive
and kicking,exhilarating,so strong,
yet so silent...a drop on a rock,
the shiver of a leaf,disturbed dust-
but it sings,it shouts,it conducts
a symphony beyond all years and hearts!
I'm dreaming in a storm and I'm letting it live
in a teacup...

The road that led somewhere

I always find myself walking from
here to there,laughing,smiling,
covering up the sores of my feet with
promises and the need for company;
we're strangers,you and I,but we
manage somehow to give this world a
direction and make it our own;
we're mirrors,we're lies,we're beauty-
and we will one day die;until then,
let's share a piece of the present and
write poems on the back of our hands;
our letters rust under beds and we're
always so afraid of something lurking
in the clocks;food is pain,sounds
disturb organs,colours and names make
us weep,then gasp...and we're so
alike,yet so apart,frail and scared,
mad and lost...what now,sweetheart?
I remember the days when I still believed
in forever,not knowing whether I should now
grieve or bless reality's embrace-it's
as though I'm half a man that
can only love with half his damaged soul;
I always find myself stepping on beautiful
moments,ignoring,dreaming,
fearing that I've lost the bus to happiness.

Domestic glamour

Asternuturi mototolite si calde.O cana de cafea neagra si amintiri dragi.Programe educative si un fratior confectionat din intrebari nerabdatoare.Placerea redescoperita in lucrurile marunte.Dorinta de a proteja si puterea de a invinge egoismul din trecut.Parfumul ciresilor infloriti si istoria din spatele tenisilor violet.Ceai in cana de fildes si curcubeul inchistat in panoul cu bijuterii.Povesti extraordinare si aventuri traite cu emotii explozive.Miracolul tehnologiei si capacitatea lui de a te calca (uneori) pe nervi.Loialitatea unui scaun rosu si fascinatia indusa de zece unghii turcoaz.Ecoul unui vis neasteptat de frumos si zambetul impartit cu sine.Drumul sinuos dintre extaz si dezamagire interna.Elogiul adus timpului si nerabdarea de a cunoaste un spatiu revigorat.Intelegerea infinitului si abolirea realitatii.Inele purtate prin casa si blestemul materialului.Pregatiri si sperante domesticite.Revenirea la adevar si incapacitatea de a face fata emotiilor.Perna tapetata cu flori si asteptarea lunii din coltul geamului.

Summery spring

the city is now a beach and the streets
contain the sea
of last summer's dream-
pebbles for shells,dust as sand,
weary feet that stand for waves
in this concrete landscape we love
to loathe and hate to leave;
I can feel it on my skin,the sun
is young and so am I!
perfume is running through my lashes,
spreading between white skin and a pair
of old sunglasses,and I can almost touch
that memory of freedom and pleasure,
that piece of the past that's meant
to last forever...
it's here! my long-lost picture of reality
at its finest,somewhere in the heart
of glistening evenings and soft dresses;
but now is just a magic trick and
today is its master-I'm still walking
through the city that never met the sea,
trying to breathe among these people
who never really seem to see...
for a moment there,everything was perfect
and the tides were friendly...

I understand nothing!

Why do I have to get up this early in the morning for something I don't even like?
Why do I have to grow up?
Why do I feel so alone in a room full of people?
Why do I find comfort in small things?
Why do I fall in love with fictional characters?
Why do I get angry so easily?
Why can't I make up my mind and just want something with all my being?
Why does my heart have to be so analytical?
Why am I content with so little?
Why do I keep wishing for a miracle?
Why can't I quit coffee and "Doctor Who"?
Why am I not freaking out already?
Why everything?
Why can't I remember the last time I fell in love?
Why do I keep postponing the "moment of truth"?
Why do I even try to understand something that I don't even want explained?!

Girls,girls,girls!

We laugh and talk about forbidden topics.
We think about skin and drink colourful tea.
We say stupid things and remember them for years.
We paint our nails in all the shades known to man and brush our hair with naked fingers.
We love with too much passion and hate with a bit too much compassion.
We wear our heart on our sleeve and we can fake a smile worth an Oscar.
We could ramble on for hours and never get bored.
We seek beauty in all things and rarely find it in ourselves.
We do silly things and create fragile memories.
We want everything and we want it now!
We wear flowers in our braids,red tint on our lips and questions in our eyes.
We never find serenity,not really.
We struggle between strenght and fragility.
We get easily distracted by pretty jewelery and charming compliments.
We never fully trust anybody.
We are always right-even when we aren't.
We can sometimes be the epitome of anger and selfishness.
We live in a world of our own.
We are girls and we wouldn't have it any other way.