Swollen lips

these dreams are hurting me,pumping
through bruised veins and
swollen lips without mercy-
drowsy mornings have never felt
so wrong,my love...
something's missing from this picture,
events have been left undone
and I'm in desperate need
of a heated touch...
the walls are a stark white,
why so?to push this fiery need above
and beyond the crimson seams
of sin?
I have built too many obscure realities
for this to be a sane thing-
as if living in your head
instead of your body
has ever been as satisfying
as a burning kiss...
past memories and present friends,save me
from my own cravings!
let's get drunk!
let's smoke the night away!
let's talk about things that are forbidden!
make me forget about these swollen lips
and my broken ego...

From bad to good

Waking up with a headache the size of Mars isn't the best way to start out the day.Using it as an excuse to screw up breakfast isn't one either...Alas,what is my life?It's hot like Hell outside,my cats appear to have lost their fluffy minds and this weird nail polish is really starting to get on my nerves.Oh,and I'm feeling like a lazy cookie again!Ugh!What to do,what to do?

Well,"take a sad song and make it better",what else could one do?For example,have a cup of coffee- boom! two hours of complete happiness.A good book and putting things into perspective also help.And,when all else fails,go out with your good friends.Seriously,a few beers and a strong dose of talking do the trick all the time!Also,they remind you of the things you actually have and the fact that you need to cherish them (before it's too late).Isn't the past funny,though?How it comes back not to haunt,but to teach an old lesson.

Man,how I love these smoky nights!

Anticipation and delight

It's hard to sleep peacefully when you have to be aware of every breath,every movement,every sigh of the night.
As usual,duty comes first and duty makes me more bitter than anything I've ever known-even so,responsibility is a somewhat pleasant side effect.
I've never dreamed I would be so engulfed in a story and so mesmerized by its words!
Waiting and not knowing are two of the hardest things in the world,I kid you not!
This peculiar sinking feeling gets to me sometimes and I can't help but yield in to its most charming delight (though the aftermath is messy and painful and rather atemporal).
How lovely it is to have an echo in the house again!
As they say,you never know what you have until you've lost it,right?
"Routine" is nice,"routine" is welcomed-if it means being with the ones I love,then so be it!
Maybe the nightmares will go away tonight...

Strangeness and strangers

How many people do you know?
How many people do you love?
How many people make you quiver
in your skin and how many could you trace
from memory with light fingertips in the air?
How many people you wish you could have kissed?
How many people have left scars on you?
How many people do you crave to have
present in your dreams,in your bed,under your
mouth?
How many people have you saved?
How many people have fallen because
of your ravenous eyes and damned lips?
How many people could you turn into a poem
or a novel or a book with no pages whatsoever?
How many people do you think understand
and enjoy your strangeness?
How many people could you fit in your
heart?
How many people did you forgive or cast out?
How many people are on this earth?
How many people would you raise
from the dark?
How many people?How many people,indeed...

Crafty wrists

My hands are the ones which mold this enclosed Universe as they please,as I please.Fingers pressing against dirty coins,deciding whether or not they should be kept for darker times or spent on lavish sunny days.Tender skin touching shoulder blades,while smiles and plans and future's ghost are all swimming between them.Unaware nails tracing the outline of inanimate objects,dreaming and wishing they could be as useful as their original purpose.Polished bones,aching muscles,an aging mechanism in the midst of conflicting energies.Always ready for the next move,never prepared for what is about to come-helpful or not?I think "indispensable" is the appropriate word in this case.Be it dull or extraordinary,this left-right duet is what enables me to give meaning to something otherwise...vapid.The blisters in my palms stand testimony to my existence and my bruised knuckles make good use of blood.See?I am the work of my hands.This is my legacy,this is my unwritten will.As for the rest,it's all dust and fairy tales... 

Empty rooms

a house is a house when it's got
a proper foundation and walls and a roof.
a house becomes a home when people
decide to infuse it with a soul.
these fragile beings give a purpose
to a foundation,a wall or a roof-
everything comes alive when life itself is allowed
to take roots.
that's why I don't like empty rooms-
they always give off a perfume
of insecurity and longing on still emotions.
alone!I feel alone surrounded by barren materials,
where there's no echo to listen to or return,
even more lonesome than usual...
and I give in to a state of perpetual disdain,
tired from doing nothing,
exhausted by a sentimental drought
that will not go away...
in the end,the decisions you make
are the ones which prove it's real-
but I still can't shake off this horrible
taste in my mouth and this incomplete
sense of existence...
a house is just a house.
a house can become a home.

Losing track

Days like this one right here make me believe that maybe,just maybe,time doesn't control everything.Love has always been the same.So has hatred,so has pain.But the shapes they come in and the masks they wear shift according to an evolutionary process of proportions I cannot even fathom in my brain.The pages I go through with shaking fingers and burning eyes stand testimony to this truth.The words which melt into cursive songs whisper the same truth.The people we capture into immortal signs of blessed youth stand as proof.They have no age,they know no death.

...I do,I will and I am afraid I won't mean a thing-unless...Isn't it what we all dream of?A purpose,an everlasting voice,eternity...It sometimes appears to be one gruesome joke from above.Nevertheless,we rise,we help,we strive and we thrive.Insecurities and all.We occasionally turn a wrong into a right and the world starts making sense once more.At this point,time melts and every clock goes numb-it doesn't matter,nothing matters anymore.

A haze,a dream,a timeless purpose...

Cinder wings

though my feet would like to wander
through busy streets and lonely waves,
my mind won't move and always craves
to spread its roots among
the blackened cells of eternal dirt.
this body of mine is weak,so weak,
a collection of painful bones
pinned down against a meat sheet,
waiting to die
and longing to live...
am I important?
am I a hero in somebody's eyes?
am I enough of a man to make it all
worthwhile?
stupid mind...stupid lies...
time flies like a forgetful sparrow
which I cannot trap in a cage,
be it memory or pen...
is this effort all in vain?
don't answer that,sweet stranger,
I'd rather close my eyes and pretend
I'm in the twilight of a dream...
I'd rather be a song.
I'd rather be a poem.
I'd rather be alone...

Pretty faces and TARDIS blue

Things that made me happy today:

• the fact that I slept like a baby
• my morning coffee,steaming,dreamy and foreshadowing beautiful events
• those fluffy balls of excitement and wonder known as my cats
• an overwhelming sensation of laziness,greeted with both reluctance and joy
• remembering that the small things in life make it all worth it and that the big ones only add to the "pile of good things"
• painting my nails TARDIS blue
• realizing that change is good and inevitable at some point (in time and space)
• meeting up with the gorgeous girls who made my high school experience a truly awesome one and understanding how much I'm really going to miss their pretty faces and brilliant minds
• listening to music not only with my ears,but with my entire body
• my never-ending supply of green apples
• focusing on the things that make me happy,rather than letting the ones which make me miserable take over

All in all,good day,man!Good day.

Mary has a little life...

Mary has a little back
which hurts like Hell when she wakes up-
but that isn't the point today
because,wouldn't you know it,
it's her name day!
Mary has a little brain
that sobs into her coffee and flails
when fictional characters come this way-
fret not,little Mary,it's all fun and games!
(until you find out you can't even breathe anymore
because your heart can't handle the pain!)
Mary has a little flaw
which makes her occasionally lazy and dull-
but aren't we all every so often
like a mindless self indulgent sloth?
Mary has a little fear
that makes her shy away from people-
but she's working on it really hard,
so cut her some slack and shut the f* up!
(I'm talking to you,sassy voices in the head!)
Mary has a little family
for which she'd give anything to see happy all the time-
and,when serenity does arrive,Mary knows she has
everything she needs right here,right now.
Mary has a little life
of which she's proud and which she'll love till death
do them part.

Honeyed strawberry

Ador zilele incarcate!N-ai timp nici sa respiri macar,dar nici sa te temi sau sa regreti ceva imposibil.Sunt zile dominate de miscare,de actiune perpetua,ca si cum viata ti s-ar fi transformat brusc intr-un film turnat in ritm alert.Te simti viu!Te simti util!Te simti capabil sa construiesi,sa purifici,sa renasti.Gesturile simple se proiecteaza in neant si-ti amintesc de faptul ca viata merita traita din plin,chiar daca numai pentru acest sentiment infloritor.Iar timpul nu mai fuge,ci se aliniaza fiintei tale mereu impinse inainte,urmand sa se contopeasca intr-un mecanism sublim.
Ah,cata fericire se poate naste din cele mai neinsemnate atingeri!Abia acum realizez cata energie se pierde in cladirea unor lumi putin probabile si cata se investeste in concret...Sincer,mi se pare un raport inegal si ireal!Vreau sa invat cum sa traiesc mai mult aici,printre oameni cu fete fascinante,schimbari de vara,culori insiropate,zile insorite,momente in familie,cuvinte personale si stupide,in magia vietii obisnuite...
Am ajuns sa-mi fie frica de toate minunile astea cotidiene,insa incerc sa le pretuiesc si sa mi le conserv in minte ca dulci amintiri cu gust de miere si capsuni...

Tinged day

every shadow has a light
shining through the layers of its heart-
this is how the world works,
a blank canvas awaiting the loving touch
of a blind man...
I slowly drown in the illuminated waters
of life and hope and endless possibilities,
longing and lusting for a breeze
of yellow and black touch...
color has become a trickster
of ever-changing moods-
blue piercing through my eyes' silence,
red's opulence dancing between
people and places,
even green slithering beneath soles
in the middle of a sizzling day...
I am a slave,a fool for a mirage!
how can one carve a story out of every lie
sent by the Sun and laugh
at the tinted words and hued paragraphs?
...so young,my God,so in love
with a fleeting sentiment...
even so,there I am-drenched in orange,
purple and teal,smiling and nodding
at my yet to be finished
imperfect picture...