Bright lights and soggy eyes

...I'm just really pissed off right now.Nothing is fine and I can't deal with this imposed denial anymore!Try as I might,the lie resurfaces again and again,polluting my mind,my life,my sanity.

First of all,the faces.I pass by so many strangers in one single day,that my brain has started to link each one with something familiar.Friends,actors,musicians,everything that I know and love scattered around this impersonal canvas...just to make me feel more secure.It's like my subconscious is trying to shield me,well,basically,from myself.So these weary eyes clutch to so many damn details in the hope of relief,of comfort,of recognition.

Speaking of which,I think I'm turning into a bratty 5-year old...again.I don't know,I just miss human touch so much.Not the vulgar interaction with which I'm (apparently) "blessed" on the subway or down a busy street,no.I'm talking about holding hands,sharing a hug,a kiss on the forehead,things like that.I want to be reminded that somebody cares about me,that I'm worth something,that I'm loved.I want to be certain of my knowledge,of my dignity,of my stamina.I just want...

My personality's fading away.Yep,irony has struck yet again!In a place where nobody gives a rat's ass if your head is shaved or you have a peacock on your shoulder as an accessory,I have "decided" to let myself go.Just like that.Be plain,be ordinary,be myself,in the end.Because,to be honest,why would you notice me?I have nothing to offer and everything to lustily demand.Fair trade?I think not.One day,maybe I'll end up a plain shell,a moving body,a hallow spirit.Ah,why do I always look for salvation from the outside?Why can't I get it into my head that nobody's going to come and rescue me from this makeshift Hell of mine?Jesus,I'm pathetic!Seriously.

I almost cried today."Almost" because I was returning home and there were too many people around me and bleah!But I was holding on to my bag like a drowning man to a buoy,constantly playing with my fingers and touching my wrists as if for security.Am I that obvious?This tragic?I mean,I've started "deducing" myself on the subway,for crying out loud!Jesus!It's sad and pointless and nothing good can come out of it!Only sorrow and the feeling of inferiority.And I don't think I can take any more of that right now...

Anyhow,the point is that I didn't start bawling in front of those innocent bystanders.Instead,I came here,to a blank sheet of paper.These are my tears,these almost coherent words,laid out like a peculiar row of twisted limbs.This is something even I can't take away from myself-writing.For I will never stop using this form of art as an outlet,God willing!It's in my blood now,like coffee and the burning desire to go home.

Home!Such a sweet word,yet full of silent torture.Honestly,I'm scared out of my wits by this seemingly never-ending cycle of "here"-"there" twirls- will I ever settle down emotionally,not only physically?Don't answer that.It would be a joke and a sin.

My body's decomposing,I'm tired,I'm hungry,everything hurts,I have to study,life sucks.Music isn't the same balm anymore and I've run out of sweets.I weep for myself.

Tomorrow,please be better!I'm counting on that.

P.S.I just remembered-it's Halloween.Awesome.

Smothered howl

Urasc luna plina.N-am pus geana pe geana toata noaptea si,pe deasupra,am avut mirifice semi-halucinatii.In plus,mi-au cantat toate melodiile pamantului in urechi pana la rasarit.Pe bune,Univers?Pe bune?!

Poate ca vorbeste intunericul obosit din mine,dar de ce ne mai nastem?Huh?Ca sa murim?Asta e marele premiu?Asta e marea recompensa?Pentru asta tragem ca tampitii de jugul unei vieti mai mult sau mai putin cooperante?...pe foarte bune?!

Nu-mi doresc asta.Nu vreau sa mai stau la inca un curs plictisitor.Nu vreau sa mai aud de accidente.Nu vreau sa ma mai simt atat de rau.Nu vreau sa mai zambesc fals si sa n-am unde plange linistita.Nu vreau sa traiesc mereu cu teama ingrozitoare ca toti cei pe care ii iubesc vor disparea candva si ca tot ce indragesc ma va parasi.Nu vreau sa cred ca inconstienta e singurul mod de a trece prin existenta.Nu vreau,nu vreau,nu vreau!

Stiu ca pare exagerat,dar nu este.Chiar nu este.Asta simt si ma distruge minut cu minut.Obositor,melancolic,devorator.Sincer,mi-ar placea sa stiu a minti mai bine.In felul asta,poate ca mi-ar fi mai usor sa ma pacalesc singura.Sa ma conving fara efort ca nu-mi pasa de sfarsit,de ochii stralucitori ai celorlalti,de baiatul care tocmai a trecut pe langa mine nepasator.Incet,dar sigur,o sa ajung si acolo.In spatiul unde nimic nu mai conteaza,nu mai doare,nu ma mai afecteaza.Cale lunga!Poate prea lunga...

Ma lupt cu mine insami si nu castig deloc.Asa a fost mereu...Eu niciodata nu castig,oricum.M-am impacat cu ideea.Cu noptile nedormite.Cu gandurile intunecate.Cu linistea pagana.E mai usor asa: abandonul...

Urasc luna plina.

Conflicting rain

I don't like waking up to the sound of piercing darkness,tired eyelids and windswept leaves.
I don't like noisy people in the morning.
I don't like being interrupted when I'm reading,especially by rude commentaries and hateful stares.
I don't like it when people pick on those who are either defenseless or unaware.
I don't like it when people basically act like annoying little cunts.
I don't like my feet getting wet and my stomach growling.
I don't like silence and solitude.
I don't like feeling like something bad is about to happen all the time.
I don't like it when I'm lazy.
I don't like fear-inducing words,crippling pauses and sad book endings.
I don't like not knowing.

I like my morning coffee,rushed preparations and passionate perfume.
I like the smell of an old book flowing through my body and imagination.
I like learning about things I never thought could be real.
I like seeing dedicated individuals.
I like the idea that someone could,hopefully and eventually,see me,love me,choose me.
I like walking down a busy street,not knowing a soul and not being recognized in return.
I like the smell of toast on the subway and a hot meal at the end of the day.
I like sleeping my troubles away.
I like reading,admiring beautiful faces and coming up with improbable (yet alluring) parallel universes.
I like being happy and bringing happiness to others.
I like knowing everything's fine.

Green cats

As vrea sa nu mai plec.Sa nu mai fug.Sa uit bagajele prin casa si sa ma bucur intr-adevar de duminica plicticoasa.Nu tu debandada,nu tu stres inutil.

Sa picteze frate-miu fructe de toamna langa mine si pisica gri sa rontaie linistita un biscuite in poala.Sa ma bucur de o cana mare cu vin fiert.Sa-l tund pe tati in gradina,razand si vorbind de toate prostiile lumii.Sa ascult muzica in patul meu,cu volumul dat la maxim si cu aroma de cafea venind dinspre birou.Sa ma certe mamaia ca iar n-am papuci in picioare si eu s-o sarut pe obraz.Sa ma impiedic de zece mii de lucuri cotrobaind prin casa.Sa ma pupe mama pe frunte si sa ma cheme la masa.Sa simt ca sunt acasa,printre oameni care ma iubesc si pe care-i iubesc mai mult decat propria-mi fiinta.

"Ce mi-a trebuit mie,Doamne,facultate?".Sincer,nu stiu.Pe romaneste,m-am aruncat ca gaina in gramada.Inteleg,nu puteam sa raman,sa stagnez,dar...tot nu-mi place.Mi-e groaza de tren din ce in ce mai mult,singurele lucruri in chip de consolare fiind un hanorac "patat" cu pisicute verzi si-o carte faina in mana.

Pe bune,nu credeam c-o sa ajung sa fac atatea,de la drumuri pana la lucruri.Intr-un fel,sunt mandra de mine si nu prea.Nu stiu,ma simt straina,straina de mine si de ceilalti,de spiritul pasionat si infometat care pare ca s-a dizolvat in marea nebunie a "marelui oras".Clar,am suflet de taranca,trebuie sa simt pamant sub picioare,nu asfalt.Sunt un hibrid neadaptat si-o fata cu vesnicul calendar pe buze: cinci pentru doua!Ah,zambete crispate,ce bine mascati plansul!Pana si oboseala mi se pare acum o nascocire pagana...

As vrea sa nu mai plec.

Familiar clues

I don't even know where to begin...Well,first of all,I'm home,which is always a good thing.Nice food,pleasant company,fluffy cats and most comforting scenery-can't I just stay here forever and ever and ever?Please,please,pretty please?I even feel smarter too!Can't understand why,but the "big city" isn't helping my intelligence/confidence marriage at all!Don't get me wrong,my family isn't from the Stone Age,on the contrary-it's just that I feel...intimidated?Yes,intimidated is the perfect word.All those brains and all those lips,I just can't compete with that-so I sit quietly and wallow in my own misery.Clever,aren't I?

My deduction skills are improving,though.It's understandable,considering I awkwardly walk and eat and talk to myself most of the time.It gives you a sort of dark power that surpasses knowledge,something you can sink your tired teeth into.Downside?The more I see,the more it hurts.Craving flaws in others only unravels my own blatant imperfection.And how much more can my cocoon last?Not pretty much,I can assure you.Oh,well...

I love wine.I really do.I mean,it makes everything better.And seemingly safer.And downright exquisite,damn it!Who cares about homework and the future anymore?Let's just dwell in an intoxicated state of mind,shall we?Everything would be better.And easier.And less frightening...Warm feet and pleased ears,do you agree?Of course you do.Why wouldn't you?You're as numbed and joyous as I am in this moment...

I don't want to let anybody down.Be a failure.A lost cause.But I also want to be happy,noticed,loved.How do I make these two sides meet?As we speak,things aren't looking that willing to cooperate.

Stay in the present,my dear!Let it all be!Now is what matters above all else...

All authors are frauds

all authors are frauds
and all their books are inked lies-
you can't articulate pain nor can you encompass beauty-
do you think yourself God,mirrored soul?
I'll let you in on a secret: the sunset belongs in the sky
and you should all be caged like the wounded wolves
that you portray-
why should I trust a soul more damaged than my own?
losing your dignity has its perks:
the curtains fall and the naked truth can now
perform in the middle of glorified filth;
seeking refuge in burlesque words,trembling sentences,
stained pages,what a demanding world!
I could just slap you all!
...then kiss you hard on the mouth,breathless and numb,
gnawing at a dark "thank you!" behind my lips;
blessed bastards,how you make my life an art,
my eyes saints and my insides warm!
a cursed miracle,all authors are frauds...

12 hours

Troubled sleep.Hurried coffee and tasteless bread.Cold tiles,cold air,cold heart.Annoying noise and disturbing motion.Distracted eyes and wrong stairs.Refuge in a book.Disrespect and an inferiority complex.Silent nerves.All the world's thoughts during the course of a few numb hours.Cement eyelids.The desire to know,the lack of will power to survive this academical and temporal test.Bad feelings.Fake smiles.Unwanted friends.Crippled insides.Stupid.Sealed lips.Damned feet.Creeping darkness.Subway meetings.Three for two.Unrequited niceness.Lost time and irretrievable energy.Freezing soles and wild water.Blank mind.Mechanical arms.Wonky position.Weary eyes that won't cooperate.The urge to never give up.Almost unconscious success.The appeal of familiar surroundings.Goodnight,12 hours worth of Hell!I'll never miss this broken shell...

"So crawl on my belly 'till the sun goes down

I'll never wear your broken crown!"

Hungry

When something's wrong,you try to fill up that void: food,drugs,music,art,you name it.A hungry black hole between your lungs demands sustenance,be it graceful...or not.You can't weep,you won't beg for love,you'd never tell it out loud-what then?Silence.Ache.Shameful eyes that won't look in any mirror.Distracted mind.You cling on to every single word of compassion,only to crumble like a rusty empire when rejection naturally comes your way.Who ever made us so damn dependent of each other?I swear,a crowd has never felt more lonesome!Same motion,same heartache...I'm starving!Love,real emotions,salty tears,innocent smiles,give me something!My hands are shaking and the view from this black chair isn't all that comforting: are my wishes too out of this world?I hope so.Then I could escape with them,far away,maybe...Maybe even home.

Blue ignorance

My bed's a mess.So is my face.Bitter coffee.Hasty hands.Twisting key.Marilyn's on the floor,all metal and broken pieces.A cold claw reaching towards my soles,my spine,my raggedy bones.Bare neck and fallen lips.No smile,nothing to deny.Self-imposed surrender.Busy subway.Strange strangers.Empty space.Dumb eyes.Unanswered questions.Will I ever feel important and witty again?Crackling flesh.Hurtful stomach.Blue ink.Drenched spirit.Fleeting understanding.Wavy motion.One unwilling foot in front of the other.Dark streets.Burnt bread.Inviting sheets.Timed rest.Papers,papers,papers.Obvious ignorance.Hallow brain.Empty heart.Rebel body.I don't want to give in!Words flowing like a tiresome river.Cold shover.Damned conscience.Tired feet.Disturbingly relatable songs.Weary eyelids.My life's a mess.

Smoldering senses

I can't catch a break,I can't catch my breath-
the sky's a blinding cage under which this body
twists and bends and weeps
like a wounded seagull;
an oozing sentiment predicts the end,
the blinding end,the end of pride,
wishful thinking and faith,my everything
dropped as sacrifice at the bottom of the sea;
see?nothing can last,not even time-
clocks burn beneath our feet,while minds die
inside wooden ghost ships in broad daylight;
I wish for sanity,for flawless bones,
for humid eyes,for tranquility,
for more than I could ever gather together
without staining my soul with sins;
predictions make me nervous,as do promises
and nightmares and petty hearts-
how long before this spirit cracks like a numbed branch?
I can't catch my breath,I can't catch a break...

Books,feathers and fears

Sunday sucks.No,for real,it actually does.Even before my "end of the week commuting experience",it had always been something dreadful and freakishly annoying for some reason.Now,well,everything's being multiplied by ten.Dear God,I know it's technically the first day of the week and all that,but I can't conceal my true feelings towards it,especially when it comes to You!The rush and last minute preparations and false eagerness,all for fear of not missing that damn train!

"But,Adriana,why do you do it then?Why don't you just stay there and come home once every two or three weeks?"Uhm,no.And fuck you,anonymous and strange voice in my head.The thought of coming home is what actually keeps me going,don't you get it?Jesus Christ,I count the days...starting with Monday!I don't like my new lifestyle and that's that!There,I said it.Ugh!I'm so screwed...

So I resort to a trade: five for two.It's not fair,but what is in this world?Funny thing,though,is what I bring back to conceal my "free prison": posters,jewelry,pictures,quotes,bits and pieces from the past to make the present more bearable.Silly,isn't it?Silly and emotionally necessary.

I don't know,I've grown colder and quieter.Books don't give off the same passionate perfume,while my brain refuses to find comfort in imagination.It's amazing how lonely one can feel at the end of the day in a city full of life and people.

Watching pigeons fly and my own feathery earring twirling in the wind raises a question: is it better to be earthbound or addicted to the sky?Heaven knows and Hell forbids knowing.

I wish I could cry right now,let it all out.But no.I'm rotting on the inside,you can tell.

Alas!I am dead.

Black legs

I've seen this picture before.I'm experiencing heartache once more.Why do I perceive my emotions as being fake?A plastic shell over a raw core.My legs are black,my emotions on repeat mode.Nothing's as it used to be.I feel...drained.Here is my sanctuary,my freezing bliss.I wish Hell would freeze over.Just saying...You know what my drug is now?Sound.I feel deprived of natural noises and ear riots.It all seems like a peculiar paradox,considering I dwell in an environment built upon movement,action and rush.Yet everything,from walls to pages to faces,comes through as an asylum.That creepy,eerie sensation that something bad's about to happen,something that you can't control...Not here,though.Here...Here is what I have for a few fleeting moments that make it worthwhile.My energy.My sustenance for those hours when I'm not myself anymore,but a breathing carcass.Lost!Lost!Lost in an impersonal experience which has no name and no body.You get better by identifying your problem,right?Well,I can't.I can't put my trembling finger on the devil that's haunting me.It's too fast...So this is where I actually live: my home,my family,my memories.No lies,no false hopes of adaptation.In my ugly clothes,with my messed up hair,in my worn out bed.Music fills me up again like a soothing river,food nurtures me properly.I can actually breathe the air I know!You could give me a billion reasons to "let go",but my answer would remain the same: "No".This is what I truly have,nothing less,nothing more.And I feel blessed and cursed at the same time.Even so,I wouldn't give up my soul for all the knowledge and power in the world...

Moving passion

To my beautiful subway stranger.

here I stand,arms flooded with cotton weights

and peculiar eyes,waiting for a ride,

a faster clock,a stronger sense of pride...

then I see you- I do not flinch,

yet my body shifts towards your

silent magnetism:

plain clothes,auburn hair,lips as light

as feathers brushed against a blank page-

I wish to be released,but your unaware grace 

ties an invisible knot around my legs,

around my hips,above my neck...

leaving the hallow earth becomes a sacrifice 

of unidentified proportions,while your path

and careless walk remain the same;

you will never know I wrote this poem for you

nor will I ever guess whether your gaze met

my being by fleeting and divine accident-

you are now a ghost,a living and breathing ghost...

Strange skin

I wouldn't choose myself.I wouldn't pity myself.I wouldn't even consider coming up with an excuse for this incoherent liar I call "consciousness".Have you ever seen a puppy relentlessly beg?That's me,but less cute and more annoying: my need to please others and be accepted by them has become almost disgusting.To be honest,there are days when I can't even look in the mirror; it's not hatred,just disappointment.Disappointment that my actions don't match my values,that my body doesn't listen to my mind,that everything I do comes out flawed.All this decaying narcissism is turning out to be poisonous and it's managing to spoil even these now fleeting joys of the present.Why am I the way I am?!My skin feels strange and my thoughts form in an unknown language: in all truthfulness,I am at peace with my faith.Again,I wouldn't choose myself.

Heartache and roses

I slept through a troubled war going on in my head,defenseless and damned to wake up even more tired than I went to bed.

I was in my local supermarket,you know,buying stuff that students usually need (like candy and instant soup and fruit juice).The radio then started playing "Northern Downpour" by Panic! at the Disco.I swear to you,the urge to cry filled me like a thousand oceans and only God knows how I escaped with a dry face.Still,my soul remained damaged and heavy.
I read way too many pages at a time and understood way too little: is this my mind now?A useless sponge?A soft brick?A damned friend?I'm scared.
I wandered through now known spaces,fighting the urge to run back and kneeling in front of my broken dignity.
I held on to my rosy cardigan like a drowning man to a buoy and hoped someone would notice change.
I watched the hours pass by,clutching to shreds of recognition and wishing my savior would come already.
I let the wind pass through me in the middle of a very busy street and in the midst of a soul crisis.
I let go of "never would I ever" and lied everything is alright.
I ate a sickening soup (yes,that soup!) and wished I could literally cry my heart out.
I asked myself "Why?" a thousand times and "Because..." couldn't come up with a valid answer-there was a sane one,but not enough to be worthwhile.
I hoped for the best and let go of the rest.
I sinked into my bed with masked relief,not knowing whether to be grateful or uneasy.
I had a rough day.

Silver dot

Game over!I took off my lip piercing.Yes,the one for which I have fought with man,school and principles,prejudice and stigma.
It may look like defeat,but it's actually not.It's...it's like closing the last chapter of a brilliant book: you had your time together,but things must carry on.
Though I do love taking situations to the most melodramatic level possible,one could say that I got very attached to my lovely silver dot over the years.In a way,it made me feel special,worthwhile,unique in my own weirdness.As you may know by now,confidence isn't my strong point,so this (apparently) pointless piece of carved metal acted as a pretty damn fine fuel to power an almost extinguished flame.
Is it extremely depressing and fascinating that no one has noticed anything yet?I mean,on the one hand,it's not like I've been on a socializing spree during the last few hours-but not even my roommate?We spend 99% of our time together,for Pete's sake!On the other hand,maybe it's because people have gotten used to it,to my "uniqueness",so that it doesn't matter if I still have my piercing or not.I don't know how to react to this:am I happy?Sad?Relieved?Regretful?Confused?!

Naturally,someone will eventually look at my face and the light-bulb shall illuminate.I know for sure that my family and few closest friends fit into this category,so I'm bitchin' about nothing.

It feels so empty,though!My tongue is constantly searching for a known cold space and my teeth are clutching to peculiar!I'll get used to it.Society gets used to things.Or does it?

I guess I'm growing up.Or just growing old.Or both.Frankly,it all looks as if I'm growing tired,weak and numb.Is nostalgia a side effect of loss?Probably...

I'm going to truly miss my silver dot.

Refuge and relief

Ma trezesc pe intuneric.
Mananc.
Imi beau cafeaua aproape amara.
Ma ascund in haine largi si primitoare.
Infrunt vantul si salut pescarusii.
Inot prin metal si pamant scobit.
Ma pierd in chipuri pierdute.
Alerg sa prind ceva imobil.
Ascult,inregistrez,incerc sa inteleg.
Ma lupt cu trupul si cu buzele rautacioase ale altora.
Ma ghemuiesc pe o palma de scaun si-mi imaginez ca sunt invizibila.
Cert soarele prea zelos.
Imi dezleg sufletul neascultator,insa el nu vrea sa auda de mine.
Ma cufund in perne si chem un medicament natural.
Trag de mine ca de un strain.
Deschid toate cartile si-mi vine sa plang fara lacrimi.
Discut cu necunoscuti simpatici.
Rad de prostii si ma mint ca mi-e bine.
Ascult chemarea tranchilizantului lichid si a dinamintei din ceas.
Trec prin scenarii infinite si nu raman in niciunul.
Repet rugaciunea.
Ma culc pe intuneric.

Poetry in motion

ma-nconjoara un volum vibrant de versuri animate,
cu litere imprastiate pe campul din ceata si apus-
s-au dus catre vazduh clipele sacre,
asa cum si randunelele m-au parasit fara macar un umil
"ramas bun"...

...si scriu cu degetul pe geamul ud poeme
lipsite de trup si de substanta,cu sufletul indoit
de aroma calda
a unui refugiu scaldat in viteza boema:
acum devine atunci intr-o fractiune muta
de secunda...

am brusc intre urechi numai versuri galopante,
inmiresmate si carnoase,
iar oamenii cufundati in miscare ma privesc
din spatele unor pleoape imbracate
in lavanda si noapte...

am ajuns!ce-as pleca,sfanta uitare,
m-as intoarce intr-o suflare!
dar ceasul nu iarta si drumul ramane drept-
la revedere,poezie!
la revedere,poet!

Feels like home!

Se simte ca sunt acasa...Patul e mai moale,cafeaua e mai dulce,aerul atinge mai blajin plamanii.Foamea devine naturala,gandul se mai limpezeste.Ma ingramadesc sub o patura moale si privesc in jurul meu:nimic nu s-a schimbat,insa..."I'm tired of feeling like I'm fuckin' crazy".

O fost mama cu pisica "cea mare" la sterilizat.Incredibil sau nu,este pentru prima oara cand aceasta sarcina nu pica pe umerii mei (sau,mai exact,in bratele mele).Partea mai grea a procesului a trecut,asa ca acum toarce intr-o fericire si se rasfata enorm.Mi-as dori si eu niste medicamente care sa-mi induca aceeasi stare:pura si nealterata euforie.Sa nu stiu de ce sunt sunt fericita si nici sa nu-mi pese.Macar pentru o zi,pentru o ora...Sa nu ma mai umplu de goliciune,de sentimente hoinare,sa deslusesc enigma ce ma otraveste precum un rau toxic.

Doamne,iarta-ma!Vad ca sunt patetica,dar nu stiu ce sa mai fac!Cum sa ma mai mint.Unde sa ma mai ascund de mine.Caut ceva si nici nu stiu ce.Ma vad ca pe un apartament ravasit,rascolit,obsedat de o treime pagana.Sincer,mi-e scarba de starea asta anonima.Ori bine,ori rau-tot ceea ce se tese la mijloc nu face decat sa ma consume sistematic.Nu mai stiu cuvinte proaspete,le reciclez pe cele deja obosite si ma refugiez (precar) in cele mai triviale dintre fantezii.

Stiti,aud randurile ce le scriu in cap si-mi vine sa rad de nervi: asta am ajuns?Pe bune?!Totusi,nu ma pot abtine.Trebuie sa scuip entitatea fara nume din mine.Vocea nu ma ajuta,iar alt mediu artistic nu ma primeste in bratele-i salvatoare.Asa ca-mi raman la dispozitie doar umilele vorbe si ochii tociti.

Se simte ca sunt acasa:iar simt prea multe in aceasi timp...

"Somewhere I belong"

...in oase mi se-agita un puzzle din ger
si umbre fara capatai,
iar pamantul a devenit o cusca utila-
as vrea sa-mi fie mila de propria neputinta,
dar am un dop in suflet
si ochii-mi sunt din fier.
alerg,alerg,alerg dupa fantome ticaitoare,
dupa rugina miscatoare,
dupa timpul pe care n-am sa-l pot imbutelia
vreodata...
singura fara pata a ramas speranta autumnala,
imbracata in fasii de gri si iubiri din ceata
alba...
Doamne,de ce simt ca n-am astazi
nicio casa?
mi-e frig,mi-e rau,mi-e teama...
un peisaj familiar se transforma in balsam
cand orizontul se imbraca in nuante
de argint-
sunt aici...
in sfarsit,sunt aici.

Inked fangs

...and I'd trade my blood for something holy

to raise this soul from self-inflicted perdition...

I stand for myself.For this raggedy soul I call my own.I stand for every sigh,ever tear,every smile.All that I am is splattered across the Universe in the form of imaginary atoms and DNA-stained lies.I cannot be put in a box,I will not be labeled by small minds and dirty claws.Who are you to tell me fascination is blinding?That my love stands on a foundation made up of dust and ghosts?I refuse.I refuse to consider these hallow ideas as an undeniable truth.Though my being feels like a crumbling machine,I will not give in.Even if I end up summing just a big bag of bones,I will still use each and every one to write down a story that has never been told before,that will never be forgotten-my own...

Laugh if you wish to,you think my spirit cares for such burlesque display of emotion?The Hell I've made up for myself is way worse than your pitiful attempt,I can assure you!It doesn't matter,though.What's mine is mine and only a higher power can take that away from me.Not a stupid remark,not a silly joke,not you.You,blind girl!You,staged society!You,tireless voice that creeps up at the least appropriate moment!I care too much,don't I?I say I don't,but I do.My God in Heaven,I do!I am bound to my peers like a tree to a forest-unique,but the same.A young woman who writes,fears love and rarely speaks her own mind in public-well,mark me down as "obvious stereotype"!I'm tired.I'm hungry.I want to go home.I want to cry.Weep,actually.I want something to make it all better.I want confidence.Power.Hope.I want...too much,apparently.

Worn out soles

I never thought I'd walk down so many roads.In so many pairs of shoes.Alongside so many gentle faces and soft hands.The world can be so terrifyingly big,yet so unmistakably small!You find yourself bumping into familiar images at every corner,not knowing whether to believe in chance or kiss the lips of luck with doubtful lust-what are the odds,anyway?The sun is up,the wind seems like a brush on the cheeks and people are more beautiful than ever.I could fall in love a thousand times a day and never look back with regret!What are a pair of worn out soles and a troubled heart when compared to all these unseen miracles?Almost nothing.Almost...Ah,my dearest friend,how life is complicated and amazing and consuming and damaging and all shades of gorgeous...everything !The flowers on my blouse,the raspberry on your tongue,the books in that library,the minty smoke of the subway,the seemingly never-ending streets,the unknown thoughts of all those mysterious strangers we pass,the echo of our past,the infinity of tomorrow and so many more!I'm drunk!I'm drunk from all this freedom I'm afraid to use!Behold: a bird too scared to leave the cage which it loathes...The gilded cage of my own soul,my own flaws,my own limits...Oh,but I'm tired!Too much personal history for one day,too much to filter and deposit into memory's overflowing drawer...I guess I'm happy.I'm not sad.Or am I?I need sleep.And love.And coffee.And cats.And chocolate.And to be reborn.Dear God...

Tempting trail

I could just give up,you know.Not on the outside,but from within.Become a perfect puppet.I wouldn't care if my dress got dirty from staying on the floor too much,I wouldn't notice my stomach twisting like a wounded animal.Day would match night in a personalized apocalypse.

Who gives a damn,anyway?We're all greedy little monsters,fighting,pushing,clawing our way to the top for a prize called "death".I don't have the energy and strength and passion to even care anymore.Too many eyes,too many mischievous mouths.Take my shoes and stomp my pride.You can't touch me anymore.I am my own worst enemy.

This is an illusion and a flawed one indeed.Why won't my tongue let words come out at the right time?Why do I feel so dispensable?Why,my Lord,just why?!

I could just give up,you know.But I can't.I won't.I'm marching on,I'm marching on.... 

"Paint my spirit gold"

...and cover my body with blessings,
kiss these swollen lips and mend my cracked
dignity!
bury my skin in flowers and steal all the prayers
from Heaven,
give me an angel,a sword and silence,
tell me my purpose has a blooming core!
swear on old blood that I will love
forevermore
and carry me in your scarred arms over
life's flood,
lie with a twisted tongue and command my eyelids
to thrive
in the darkness which night conjures from down below!
be mine and let me belong
to a soul
no more damaged than my own!
emerge from nothingness,save this plagued
world
and paint my spirit gold...

Purple arms

I'm starting to feel like I don't belong anymore.Not here,not there,not anywhere.I feel uneasy and suddenly sad,like I'm about to give up some fleeting blessing I never owned in the first place.

Could I be any more obvious?I guess not.Then again,there's still next week.And the one after.And the one after that...I will pull through this,so help me God!

But I'm nostalgic and panicky and this autumn Sunday sun is making my hair look like it's on fire.

And I guess traveling by train isn't all that bad,especially when you have pleasant company.

Still,I will never forgive myself for bringing (yet again!) so much luggage...Look,my arms have gone all purple!The things I do for comfort and creativity...

Hello,home away from home!I'm back!You look disturbingly familiar all of a sudden...Well,better organize my mess and go to bed: another piece of the present is waiting as "the future" right around the corner...

Blanket cocoon

Run.Just run.Run away from it all.Live through other people's voices.Shield yourself with dreams and blankets.Tell your heart to stand still,stay strong,stand tall.Forget every doubt and cherish every familiar moment.Recover the time you couldn't allow yourself to notice.Count your fingers twice and relish the color blue.Revive a summer image with cold sunbeams and loving cats.Feel your body like the aching shell that it is.Cover your spirit with autumn leaves and daring hopes.Try to fix other's problems.Show kindness and mercy.Lie and say everything is OK.Keep in mind the fact that patience cannot be replaced.Value simplicity.Record your soul through wicked letters and immortal words.See yourself as an imperfect piece of art.Look into night's eyes without fear.Live through your own voice.Run away from it all.Just run.Run.

Coming home...

Sweet baby Jesus,I'm finally home!You know what that means,right?Family,food,cats,a normal bed,all the wonders and sweets I have so dearly been missing back there...And it feels so damn good to be treated like a princess!Tasty coffee,fluffy socks,kind words and lingering smiles,this is what Heaven looks like!I guess some people actually are easier to love when they're away...I guess I'm one of those people...

Anywho,best live in the moment and leave the drama for another time!Why miss out on this precious occasion to thrive in the place where I truly belong?Exactly!So I'm going to leave my luggage be and reclaim the domestic bliss which suits me so well:boring old me!Yes,but happy me.And serene me.And,more importantly,me and the ones I love.

Oh,blessed routine,how I've missed you so!

First in line

I will forever loathe my frightened stomach,puffy lips
and the thought of failure.
I will forever love the morning breeze,the smell of coffee
and my sudden acts of courage.
I will forever strive to accomplish something,never give up
and love wholeheartedly.
I will forever hate myself for not trying,caring too little
and thinking life isn't worth it.
I will forever admire an open heart,a sincere smile
and a mind with a limitless drive.
I will forever cherish time,fleeting memories
and the serene surrender of a spirit.
I will forever embrace my flaws,my tears
and my meaningful black scar.
I will forever acknowledge change,human misery
and the fact that I'm weaker than I seem.
I will forever cry,breathe,dream,imagine
and sing through something above everything.
I will forever be me.

Streets and libraries

Dreaming about tiny,adorable,disturbing flying-moles is a weird way to start the day off.

No,I don't function without coffee.No,my pouty face does not go away with cold water.No,I do not wish to fall in love.

"Leaving early is better than arriving late"-motto.

If I see at least one pretty face a day while I'm here,then things are going to be just dandy.

How am I going to remember all these names?

It's hot like Hell and all I have is a bag full of winter clothes-do you see my problem?

Though doubts are still creeping in,I'm pretty sure I'm going to love this experience-one way or another.

A new friend and some libraries-what could you ask for more?

Food is going to be both my blessing and curse.

I'm having some massive pre-university jitters right now...Paging Dr.Xanax!Paging Dr.Xanax!

Music,prayers,the thought of home-all I need to guide me through this...

Familiar faces and wonky pajamas

It's OK.I'm OK now.I just needed a few days to understand how it all works.In a way,it feels like a seaside holiday:lots of doors opening and closing,familiar faces,the hustle and bustle of a space filled with young hearts and minds.I've even started to wonder:where have all the waves disappeared?

All in all,I think I can cope (though it's too soon to tell for sure).For now,I'm enjoying my "stolen" naps,pretty books,long and wondrous walks around the city(at least the parts that I know) and musical journeys.Not to mention parading around campus in my very "clown meets psychopath" pajamas and baby blue fluffy slippers (feel free to queue "Sexy and I know it",yes).

It's hard,but it's pretty.I guess this is what change really feels like.What life really feels like...Anyway,back to now and all its glory!Geronimo!

Parks and thoughts

Almost sleepless night.Peculiar nightmares.Old memories in new clothes.A fresh start in worn out shoes.Beautiful eyes and shy smiles.A new perspective on the future.Subway tricks.Waves of people.Summer heat in autumn's debut.Spiritual and physical recovery.A gorgeous and most welcomed face from back home.Domestic affairs.Uneasy coffee skills.Restricted panorama.Still awkward silence.Bones too young to be tired.Internal "drama llama".Annoying sun.Magical books and inviting sheets.Girlish preparations.New people.Fascinating streets and serene parks.A poet's blessed dream.Noisy children and shaded architecture.History and laughs.A bench in the middle of somewhere.Fears and fountains.Elegant crowds and breathtaking sights.Anxiety mixed with utter fascination.Exhausted feet.Drained energy.Dry mouth.Almost comfy bed.Goodnight!