Drenched shoes

Startling song.Vibrant coffee.Last minute studying.Dreaming about distant blue eyes.Deja-vu rain.Gray picture.Crowded room.Short exam.A marble hallway full of love and hugs.Drenched shoes.Crimson tea and much needed good news.Heavy luggage.Waiting in the train station.Waving at an old and funny "monkey" friend.One road,five girls,lots of stories-just how we like it.A dad in blue and a hometown with clear cyan skies.Lusting for food and my bed.Unexpected sour cherries.Smooth coffee.Breathtaking show.Shadowy storm.Their preparations and my growing anxiety.Sinking blankets.Loud cats.A consciousness torn between a movie and an essay (spoiler alert: neither wins).Crowded place.Happy brother.A piece of advice,some directions,a lot of rules-apparently,I'm 5 years old of age.Crumpled sheets and greenish walls.My body aches because of today and tomorrow.

Blue beads and random thoughts

Alarma parca ma trezeste din morti,nu din somn.
Aceeasi voce innabusita,aceleasi chipuri obosite,acelasi gand de inutilitate cosmica.
Daca mi-as putea petrece toata viata intr-o biblioteca,as fi cea mai fericita.
Stim doar strictul necesar,insa am uitat sa cunoastem sensul de dincolo de cuvinte-tipic.
Mi-e cald,mi-e rau,ma agat de bluza cu margele albastre ca de o geamandura pe uscat,iar senzatia de greata nu ma ajuta cu nimic.
Baietii pe care ii indragesc ma fac sa ma simt penibil fara niciun gest care sa ii tradeze.
Prietenii "perversi" si plimbarile cat o statie de metrou mai salveaza cateodata situatia.
Mi-am patat maieul alb cu somn si lene.
De ce se incapataneaza cei pe care ii iubim sa intineze acest sentiment tocmai cand avem cel mai mult nevoie de ei?
S-a suparat pana si cerul pe noi.
Ras nocturn,foi manjite de creion,cuvinte aproape goale-tablou tras la indigo.
Astazi a fost o zi cafenie si bizara.

Churning core

My response system is apparently shattered-I don't know how else to explain this behavior which seems more cinematic than real to me right now.
I weep when I'm praised.I get mad when I'm confronted.I get drowsy when nightmares make their siren's call.
To not know what my next reaction will be is a source of great despair to me nowadays,since I don't particularly want to become a spectator in the first line of my own life.
Why is my brain so upside-down?Why is my heart just black and white?Why is my body like a shore in the midst of a hurricane?I'd like to have an answer for all these questions,but all I'm left with is sand in my mouth and sea water on my cheeks.
I want to love.Be loved.Be happy.Smile and hug and breathe with both my lungs at the same time.But I can't.I can't because there's something wrong with me and I don't know what.
Until I can find the root of my plague,I'm left with a longing soul and a churning core.
Damn...

Red skirt,blue flowers,white shirt

I don't know how to be pretty
when the subway is all crowded
and that dream I had about you last night
still lingers in my mind like strawberry candy

I don't know how to smile
when my backbone cracks under the weight
of dull nightmares and wet dirt eyes

I don't know how to touch
another man's soul without tainting
my ego and my blue&red affection

I don't know how to love
this cyan sky or my fragile friends
or that feeling of warm daffodils
between my toes and my fingers

I don't know how to be smart
enough to count,smart enough to stand tall,
smart enough to believe it myself

I don't know how to behave
in this white shirt

Seeing things

Eu o sa innebunesc.O spun cu mana tremuranda pe inima si cu absoluta convingere ca mi s-a deconectat un circuit la cap.
Nu mai mentionez cosmarurile care ma fac sa plang si sa dorm doar strictul necesar si care pur si simplu imi domina viata de ceva vreme.Nu mai mentionez faptul ca ma trezesc ametita si sufocata si speriata in fiecare dimineata.Nici nu mai spun de temerile si asteptarile mele stupide de la viata.Dar sa ajung sa am vedenii si "auzenii" in mijlocul zilei,asta e prea de tot...

Mi-e frica.Mi-e tot timpul frica:sa dorm,sa ies pe strada,sa vorbesc cu ceilalti de parca as fi o vaza pretioasa stricata,mi-e frica sa exist pentru ca nu mai stiu cum se face.

M-am vaitat in ultimele zile si-n stanga,si-n dreapta,iar lucrul acesta ma face sa-mi fie rusine si sila de mine.De parca lumea mai are nevoie de inca o "tragedie in desfasurare"...

Am inceput sa plang in timp ce vorbeam cu mama la telefon in seara asta.Incercam sa-mi ascund vocea "sparta",dar nu cred ca mi-a iesit.Ma paralizeaza ideea de singuratate,de demoni ce nu pot fi anulati,de zile negre si nopti cu ochi deschisi.

Imi tremura carnea pe mine fara motiv-nu vreau sa fiu o victima,stiu ca sunt mult mai puternica de atat,insa simt ca ma descompun emotional.Ma simt neputincioasa in fata propriului dezastru,cu foi pline in brate si un suflet fara farul ce candva il orienta,oricat de slaba ar fi fost lumina.

Fug mereu de ceva necunoscut,dar fug in van,caci ascunzatoarea imi este vizuina monstrului:vizuina sunt eu...

Mi-as plange de mila,insa nu merit deloc.Cred ca o sa raman cu fantasmele mele diurne si cu o pata mare pe creier.

Totusi,mi-e in continuare frica:sa dorm,sa functionez,mi-e frica de mine.Mi-e frica pentru ca nu are cine ori cum sa ma salveze.Mi-e frica de frica cea doboratoare.

Washed away by the May rain

My nightmares are taking advantage of me in a most sinister and bloody way.
To wake up pen in hand and back all bent-I've seen this picture one too many times before.
Sunday is about running and throwing things around the house and complaining about how there's never enough time-there's never enough time...
My shoes are always dirty and my mind is never made up.
Mom cooks so well nowadays that it's almost a sin to eat everything in a hurry.
Leaving home will never be easy.
This blue train is getting more and more tiresome,but at least the company is nice.
Washed away,I'm being washed away by the May rain...
Exciting news,short "trips" around the room and a sweet tooth that just won't say "no".
I'm afraid to ask myself how much I'm learning and how much I'm just cramming in for an exam.
It's easier when it's just me and a blank sheet of paper.
I wonder what sort of Hell tonight will bring...

Greedy and needy

All I do is eat and whine when I'm home.It doesn't help that grandma keeps making delicious food or that I still believe I'm the center of the Universe-still,I try to make up for the times I'm away,which isn't easy to squeeze into one single whole day.
Whether I have coffee with dad,tease my brother or gossip with mom in the evening,I try to be there for them and for myself-you know,there,there,not in front of my laptop or sleeping till noon.
Though I don't always succeed and enter my "super bitchy mode",there are days (like today) when I get to enjoy spending time with my family and get round to doing some school work.Mind blowing!A rule must have its exceptions...
Life was good today,small wonders,lazy moments and domestic sequences and all.
Now I'm writing and about to fall asleep,but I know this:whatever tomorrow brings,I had today.A beautiful today.My beautiful today.

All sorts

Angry tummy.Violent nightmares.Gloomy morning.No coffee.Heavy stairs.Dripping eyelids.Summer storm.Boring words.Cyan eyes.Crowded train station.Loud journey."Monkey" friends.Best comeback ever.Sleepy bones.Sunny hometown.Surprising dad.Sweet home.Pink nose cat.Wholesome food.Loving grandmother.Bare feet.Taller baby brother.Afternoon coffee.Fury racers.Calling mom.Funny shows.Kitchen trips.Clear sunset.Green air.Cozy blanket.Medieval drama.Wet clothes.Shared stories.Old movies.Stupid jokes.May plans.Forgotten chores.Familiar news.Darling friends.Pretty things.Angry flesh.Pending sleep.Blue words.Moaning fantasies.Bad people.Distant illusions.Emerald tiles.Tired indecisions.Dependent fuzz-ball.Childish pajamas.Sturdy bed.Thankful prayers.All sorts.

Revelations in the rain

Demonii mei nu locuiesc in cap,ci in stomac,unde colcaie pana ma trezesc inaintea alarmei si inaintea zorilor.
Orasul asta ma face sa fiu mai indrazneata si mai superficiala.
Ma sperie faptul ca o simpla hartie poate face diferenta intre greata si serenitatea mea emotionala.
"Cum sa mori de somn pe bancile facultatii"-povestea vietii mele.
M-a udat ploaia pana la piele,pana la picioarele goale,pana la tenisii galbeni.
Revelatii acvatice: folclorul imi face inima sa bata mai rosu,am mereu prietene mult mai frumoase decat mine,mersul prin furtuna e mai dramatic si mai amuzant (pentru cei din masini) decat alergatul.
Carnea se rascoala impotriva mea dupa somn in ghirlande de carcei,iar cerealele n-au gust bun cand ma gandesc la toti baietii care nu ma plac.
"Am timp,dar n-am chef"-adica cea mai neproductiva experienta cu ecouri de joi seara pe care o cunosc.
Prefer sa dorm si sa uit de probleme,fie ele inventate sau nu...

Aches and assholes

Let me tell you a story about a girl who is taken for a fool one time too many nowadays and is this close to bashing somebody's head against a wall in frustration.
It's not like this girl has to study or sleep or,I don't know,have a fucking life-no,no,no,she has to indirectly cater to the consequences derived from other's broken promises and general ignorance.
You'd think that,after all these years,"girl" got used to such assholes and learned to ignore them.Well,once in a while,wisdom gives way to pure rage,stinging silence and not so tamed sass.
You have to admit,an apparently collapsing body and social Hell in the making don't add up to the best combo.
Girl goes to college,girl is (too damn) nice to peers,peers become laid-back leeches (well,not all of them,but the percentage lives up to its name),girl thinks about becoming a serial killer.Joking!(not)
Maybe the oncoming storm will wash away the day,cleanse the ashes,make the girl alright once more.
Then again,this is just a story... 

Duty calls

I do this thing where I don't care by caring too much-weird,isn't it?Yeah,well,there's a lot more from where that came from...
I sometimes care about myself only in view of what not caring would mean to the ones I love.In a way,I substitute "preservation" with some sort of "obligation",which only God knows will mean on the long term.
I'll wake up early and eat the same thing for three days in a row and drink "explosive" coffee for some college-related thing and really dumb because...Beats me.It's a tie between false selfishness and the ghost of a determination I lost when I understood what "reality" really meant.
Then I'll sleep for a couple of hours,feel like an alien,curse my poor-ass decisions of living and plan another coffee to get me through pointless studying.
I'm silly,I know.And,as much a paradox as it may seem,very selfish in my apparently selfless acts.
Remember when I said liquor is an answer to all questions?Unfortunately,tonight I'll have to settle for milk...

Not enough

You go out of your way to accomplish something you're not even sure you want.You're happy because maybe,just maybe,this time the odds were truly in your favor.You try to sprinkle your daily misery with some sort of fleeting joy.And yet that's never enough.There will always be somebody to make sure you know and understand you're not enough.And never will be...
Why do I even try?I mean,"life sucks and then you die".Taking into account I don't really believe in this whole Heaven-Hell business (if they are actually real,then I'm definitely burning my ass off in the afterlife),I tend to consider myself conscious future-compost.As a consequence,my motto isn't the most conventional and uplifting (so to speak):"If shit works,then it works.If it breaks,then it breaks."
Sure enough,I have my "good days",my "bad days",and,most often than not,my "bad-bad days".But sometimes I get days when the balance is uncertain and I don't know how to feel anymore.
Like today,for instance:crappy morning,sparkles of light,afternoon sleeping in the library,hot as Hell,tiresome sleep,crappy night.Though it may all look like a big stapled "minus",I still try to find joy in small things like coffee and pretty strangers and silly jokes,so yeah...
I'm very confused and uncertain whether to hate myself or the views which make me want to hate myself.
I know it's hard for me to speak in public or face large crowds or even cross the street sometimes,but I can't change overnight,so please don't expect that from me.
I'm not near perfect,neither am I enough,that's clear as day,just don't remind me of this because I never really do forget about it...
Can't say that phone call brought me to tears,but the bitter taste in my mouth isn't fun either.

Lazy pen

These hours are all mine and all void.
I write aimlessly,I love patiently and I detach myself wholeheartedly from both good and bad.The day is drawing to a close and so are the memories about sunny mornings,gorgeous boys and wasted time.
I choose to forget that I talk too much when I'm nervous or that I'm sometimes too afraid to be happy.
Music flows into my mind,while this lazy pen walks in miles of blue ink towards the future.My back aches because I've forgotten how to look pretty.It's hot like Hell in this room,but the voices on the hallway are way worse.
There's so much to be done that I can't bring myself to be productive-I'd rather bask in the glow of this mechanical chore and delay meeting face-to-face with reality once again.
Everything is so violently pink and pointless,there's no beauty left in here...
I wish it were last year.
One day,I'll learn how to count my blessings without letting them hurt me...

Red skull

I look in the mirror and all I see is
a red skull,a nasty little demon
digging into my mind and smothering my soul

my pretty skeleton is bursting
in this skin,all ivory and electric
beneath a suit I need to live

anatomy's dramatic when you're boring
and lonely and thinking about
phantoms that will never know your name

the night is all about music dripping from mouths
divided into squares and sequins
of brain-damaging colors

the cat is snoring and my mind is churning
every deed tattooed on my fingers
with loathing content

I look in the mirror and all I feel is
a crimson reflection,a cinematic shadow
creating characters and craving tension

Typical!

Pui de somn nocturn.Ultima cafea din borcan.Bagaje care se revarsa fara oprire.Cer ingramadit cu vata gri si rece.Metrou somnoros.Vant de mare.Scari,scari,scari!Sala aproape goala.Pasari magice.Oboseala covarsitoare.Lipsa de adapost.Decizii,decizii!Drum neplanificat,geanta cu cirese,cafea cu lapte.Holul de marmura alba.Sclipiri de intelegere.Ore chinuitoare.Fuga pentru un tren inalt si albastru.Prietena cea mai buna din calatorie.Drum cu de toate alaturi de cine trebuie.Foi cu litere calde.Promisiunea reintalnirii.Scoala galbena.Pisica "fonfaita".Stresul tipic unui eseu lasat pe ultima suta de metri.Mancare de casa.Spate sforaitor si umar cald.Tipete familiare si nedorite.Cuvinte frumoase,cuvinte negandite.Pantaloni roz pal.Oase cu ecou de gol.Nesiguranta tipica mie.Ochi inchisi si decizie luata.7 minute.Rasuflare usurata.Serial blond si genial.Somn insistent.Zi,ce zi!

When angels fall

ma simt de parca sunt umbra celui ce stia
demult cum sa-si schimbe lacrimile-n sare
si sa le dea la schimb pe un zambet temporar,
un numar,o fragile identitate.

ecoul lanturilor din mine se aude astazi
la fel de clar ca frana metroului ce-mi aduce aminte
ca nu sunt Anna Karenina
fara un strop de romantism-
cat gust amar,cat aer inveninat involuntar...

ma retrag.imi spun ca am exagerat.
imi numar binecuvantarile,insa sunt rea
si-mi raman dezbracate prea multe degete
nesarutate si mult prea putine dorinte
desigilate...

plang singura,in intuneric si-n palme,
imi cad ingerii din cer si-mi blestem copia
realului din cap:
sa dorm.sa mor pentru inca o noapte.

sa iau cursa de la capat in totalitate.

93/100

I keep telling myself that "I'm not a grade",yet I relish every ounce of feeble "victory".They keep saying I'm worth something,yet all I can see is a hollow cluster of numbers that reflects a hollow brain.I don't know how to react anymore: should I be proud?Should I keep quiet?What should I do?Honestly,this feels like dust in my mouth more than it does sugar...My "responsibilities" towards others seem to have prevailed over those towards myself-consequently,I'm smart without being smart and on the verge of falling when everybody knows I'll stand tall.I can't fall because it's not an option,though it's always an option...I can feel myself sounding bratty,even superficial,but I can admit my reasons are more practical than they are spiritual.And that pains me more than I could ever put into words...Alas,that's life for you!And me.And us.My soul remains a parasite,though it really shouldn't be so.Maybe the happiness I bring to them will someday become my own.

Full capacity

Am lucrat la capacitate maxima astazi,insa de tipul celei negative.
Ochii imi fugeau tot timpul catre (a)casa,iar urechile tanjeau dupa un sunet familiar,fie el reconfortant sau nu.Participam fizic,insa psihologic ma detasasem ca niciodata pana atunci.
Imi asum prea multe responsabilitati si asta ajunge sa fie dureros,epuizant si trist.Vreau sa rezolv problemele celor din jur,insa pe cele personale le neglijez pana la uitare.Ele,din pacate,nu ma uita pe mine...
Stiu ca e stupid si impotriva oricarei legi a supravietuirii,dar asa m-am invatat.Asa mi se pare mai bine,mai folositor.Daca nu ma iubesc pe mine,macar sa-i iubesc asa cum trebuie pe ei...
Dupa cum spuneam,ziua de astazi a fost una tare obositoare,desi miscarile si deciziile mi-au fost reduse la minimum.Doar ca am vrut sa fiu in doua locuri deodata si asta nu se poate-niciodata nu s-a putut...
Ma simt mereu responsabila,chiar daca nu mereu sunt.

Nerves,rain and heavy eyelids

I find myself lying on the floor more and more these days.It feels safe,like there's nowhere else I could possibly fall from there.It feels cold,a much needed balm for my burning face.It feels atemporal: no clocks to hurt me,no time to pass or wait until it all goes to Hell.
I want to leave,but I don't want to leave.Going away from home scares me today as much as it did that day last autumn and as much as coming back this Friday.The certainty of what I leave behind is not comforting,neither is the haunting perspective of what I am to find upon my return.
This blue train mirrors my soul: heading towards the heart of a storm with no intention of slowing down.
I'll never understand beautiful blond boys,the irregular English verbs or strange,creepy men trying to take my photograph.
I talk too much when I'm nervous and crying,which doesn't really surprise me at all.
Distance makes me both nauseous and ecstatic.
This headache's bleeding sleep into my eyelids...

The bitter taste of panic

There's so much to do,but so little emotional drive to access that the bomb in my skull started ticking.What can I actually do when every step I treat on the ground reveals the sound of a hollow carcass and pieces of shattered spirit slowly scraping against each other?I see no chance in winning when everything is already lost...

My mother is probably the most extraordinary person I know.She's a hero in her own right and I hate that I forget how she is a blessing in the true sense of the word.I don't have her courage,strength,will power and general ability to be awesome which I admire,but,unfortunately,not always acknowledge.Though we don't know how to show we love each other,we do.And I'm sorry for all those years when I didn't know how to be a deserving child for this mother.I probably don't know now either.But I'm trying.

I will die of a heart attack.Or a panic attack.Or a self-inflicted attack.Which is the same,really.

I hate feeling so damn scared of nothing.

Outta my mind

Do you ever feel like just giving up?Like life is too much and all at once and set on screwing with your brain? Like everything is pointless and you should just quit?I do and it sucks.
It sucks because I do this stupid thing were I see my pain through other people's eyes.I trivialize it.I make it seem less important than it is.I empathize with my "murderer",not myself.
My sense of self-preservation is obsolete.I sit on the floor and my mind goes blank.But it's not a reassuring void,more of a bubbling storm one.I count the hours before a kind of salvation is to come.I am so weak...
No more tears to shed,no more energy to use for anger or retribution of some sorts-completely void.That's how I feel and seem and look.Completely void...
I've lost all the essential information about myself that I had and retrieving it goes beyond painful.I don't know what to do anymore...Coffee and imagination manage to keep me alive,but for how long?
Never has insanity seemed so non-poetic to me.

Gray fur

you remind me of them with both ache and happiness
because I don't know anymore
which one is which.

they say your soul is but a convention
we designate to keep ourselves sane,
but I believe you're a higher power's craft
more than I am myself-
one can't compare rooted instinct
to self-proclaimed destruction and lust...

I'm powerless before your pain
and your tongue cannot describe it-
that's why I cry more than I would before
the mourning of a madman...

this curse of mine is set to strike
in blows of black oblivion:
I'm scared and voided by the fact
that I don't know how to react
to an obliterated closure.

your innocence makes me forget
my gods and wisdom
in times of wounded flesh.

Swollen mouth

We like to think that we're strong,brave,ready to kick in and solve any problem,no matter how gruesome or dangerous it might be.What feeble fantasies do we feed...

Everything was fine up until the moment it wasn't anymore.

I saw blood and my knees went weak.I didn't know what to do,so I paced up and down the hallway.I was a coward and a bad person and I hope I go to Hell for this.But I couldn't do anything,I just couldn't.My mind froze,my hands began to tremble,I lost myself.

Nightmares do come true-all those nights when I couldn't breathe,when my mouth was clenched so tightly that I could hear the sound of teeth crushing and breaking against each other,when everything I could thing about was death.Nightmares do come true,indeed...

I can taste the blood myself,like it's in my mouth too,in my nose too,in my brain too...

Grandma's right-we are cursed.

I'm tired of death.

No use for the hopeless

I'm not fun to be around these days.Not like I can help it,you know,but I see how I'm hurting others by hurting myself and that just adds another rotten cherry on top.

On the one side,I want to feel better,move on,make some sense of this fucked up life that I'm living.On the other,I crave to fall into oblivion,forget myself,quit everything.But no,things can't ever be that simple-there are people who love you no matter how bruised and damaged you are.So,it becomes your duty to put them first and at least try.

I've grown to understand the reality of alcoholism,of suicide,of depression and what they truly mean and why somebody would resort to them.There's no shame in wanting to somehow fix what's broken,no blame in wanting to escape.I understand-though I wish with all my heart that I didn't...

I'm useless and I'm hopeless and I'm never going to be the same again.Never again.Never again... 

Exotic ache

am visat o femeie in rosu si am ramas
cu sunetul sacadat de tocuri bej
in urechi

inca o zi trasa la indigo,inca un junghi
in coastele ce apara plamani plini
cu gandacei din visinul
in colaps verde

ceasul a invatat sa se prelinga intre ore
de cand eu am invatat sa-mi spal tricourile
cu apa,sare si emotii
decupate din dictionar

bubuie urechea dreapta,bubuie urechea stanga,
iar ecoul dintre ele se rasfrange
intr-o gaura neagra
cu circumvolutiuni electrice

am visat o femeie in rosu si am realizat
ca tocurile bej nu mi se potrivesc
deloc

Misguided hands

Am impins gluma prea departe,atat de departe incat am ajuns sa cred si eu in ea.

Ma agat de materiale si de hartii lucioase si de sentimentul ca totul o sa fie bine intr-un final,dar toate aceste fantome nu sunt decat un drog slab.

Caut un balsam in sunet si o perdea in imagine,insa nici ele nu insumeaza un medicament prea eficient.

Am devenit o scorpie,o catea nesimtita si ranita dincolo de cuvinte-nu mai stiu sa fiu un om cum trebuie,sa vorbesc,sa ma vindec in bratele celor care stiu ca ma iubesc.Asa ca inevoluez si-mi numar victimele colaterale pe oriunde trec.

Mi-e sila sa ies pe strada,sa ma prefac ca sunt aceeasi persoana de acum doua saptamani,sa mint ca "sunt bine" chiar daca este clar ca nu sunt.

Mainile mele nu mai inteleg notiunea de "ajutor",au pierdut dreptul acesta acum ceva vreme...

Daca dorm,am o sansa din doua sa evadez din Iadul lucid.O sansa din doua...

Acting lessons

I'm a better actor than I thought I'd be.

I smiled,I laughed,I played my "pretty little part" and the whole thing went just fine: awkward and with that unmistakable hint of family bitterness that every holiday seems to have,but fine.

It's most peculiar to celebrate somebody (or something) that you no longer consider to be "real".In fact,it feels less like a celebration and more like a mock play about forgotten gods and nauseating conceptions.

The feast that usually serves as a background for this whole emotional ordeal didn't manage to save the story-it never really does...

As I was saying,I did the best I could with a fork and a painfully fake smile,then went backstage.

Oh,my little twisted world!I cling to you with such force that I fear one day you might shatter and reveal yourself in a damaged nakedness nobody would have ever presumed beforehand!

Even so,my mask was marvelously crafted and my madness fully concealed.

Maybe I'll soon be able to fool everybody.Including myself...

"Blood,guts and angel cake"

The wooden door opens.The floor moans under the weight of two crimson soles that have started a demonic dance of will and power.I'm damaged and untouched,therefore I am just right.A burning iris is enough to spread the poison.My mind's a mess right now,swaying between reality and beyond,unsure about which one to let in...Imaginary blood,real blood,blood-there goes my white dress!Your hands tear open such an ugly smile on my face,all ripped around the corners and dripping scarlet kisses.Are you really here?Am I really there?The fire I'm seeing,should I be scared or prepared?Velvet guts,chocolate cake,peeled skin-what a naughty nightmare,my dear butcher!The table folds at the middle and I'm left with bruised thighs among blond splinters and oozing figs.An angel wants to sing to me,but a red shadow seals that mouth with its pointy teeth.You're not real.You're in my head.You win.

Bold backbone

vreau sa-mi saruti coastele albe si lucioase,
scoase la aer sa se intareasca
sub ochii soarelui flamand.

vreau sa-mi frangi pielea ca pe o pojghita
adunata la suprafata unui trup modelat
din plastilina rosie.

vreau sa ma pocnesti peste buzele vinete
si pline de bolboroseli pagane,
umede si indurerate de atatea pacate
platite si rasplatite.

vreau sa-mi impletesti oasele intr-o cununa
si sa-mi folosesti coloana ca pe o cruce
atunci cand orizontul se rafrange
in soapte lungi de stacojiu aprins.

vreau sa ma sugrumi ca pe un copil,
sa nu ma ierti,sa-mi amutesti fantomele
cu pumnul tau iubitor.

vreau sa mor de mana unui nebun.

In my guts

There's no place to hide when you're hiding from yourself.That's the hardest part-not having where to run from yourself,from your incessant and darkened mind.

What's worse,I seem to have developed this fucking sixth sense that just knows,just puts a stamp on what's going to surely happen.And I hate it-I hate it with boiling blood and swollen eyes and a heart that won't stop cringing.Still,it's there and I can't help but notice it.

It reeked-this place reeked of death and I knew what was coming,I just didn't want it to be true.

Have you ever seen a creature die?Lungs start to freak out and mouth looks all twisted and light slowly fades away even from the greenest of eyes.

You're powerless and some fucked up "higher power" makes absolutely sure you understand and feel that to the core.

There's no comfort in the afterlife when the one before brings so much damn pain,no comfort whatsoever.

I just knew it would come to this-this place reeked of death...

Playback

Am ajuns in stadiul in care totul imi pare o reluare infinita a tuturor filmelor proaste pe care am evitat sa le vad si pe care acum le traiesc inzecit.

Ma dor toate oasele si toate gramele de carne si toate amintirile ce mi-as dori sa le pot smulge cu un cleste direct din creier.

Ma intreb daca inca mai sunt o parte integranta a propriei mele vieti sau daca m-am dat cu un pas inapoi in minte si acum astept un final alb,mult prea alb si linistit.

Nu vreau sa-mi impart explicit durerea cu altii-asta ar degrada,ar denigra intregul concept deoarece oamenii nu sunt capabili sa inteleaga decat suferinta personala-atat.Restul este empatie,poate chiar ipocrizie.Asa ca sufletul mi se arata in litere scrise doar pe jumatate.

Obisnuiam sa alung rapid astfel de ganduri din orizont,dar acum mi-e mult mai greu,dat fiind ca traiesc unul si ca am ramas fara alcool in casa.

Astept sa treaca timpul si sa vindece,dar orele imi demonstreaza contrariul.