Sick as a dog

Un adevar extrem de enervant este faptul ca orice actiune produce o reactiune drept consecinta.
Arunci o cana de apa pe fereastra?Va ploua candva.Spui o vorba urata unui prieten?Nu-ti va mai zambi niciodata fara o urma de amaraciune in coltul gurii.Te incapatanezi sa stai in frig si umezeala nemancat?Te cearta corpul dureros.A,si probabil racesti.
Nu stiu,eu vorbesc din experienta si scriu privind cu ochii putin "in ape".Bine,putin mai mult.Fie,plang de-a binelea,dar asta e pe langa subiect.
Ideea de baza orbiteaza in jurul faptului ca viata e de-a dreptul naspa si eu sunt o proasta si...si.Nu stiu sa-mi organizez timpul,nu pot sa-mi imblanzesc trupul, nu inteleg cum sa-mi adun gandurile in actiuni coerente.
M-am "tinut" destul de bine pana acum,dar,cum am ajuns acasa,s-a dus de rapa tot castelul de carti- ma tenteaza sa continui cu "de joc",dar nu-mi place,asa ca ramane...asa.
Problema mea cea mare este ca tot vreau sa functionez,desi fibrele din mine s-au blegit de tot,iar celulele urla la nivel microscopic "Lasa-ne,lasa-ne!".
Eu vreau sa va las,voi nu vreti!Ce tine viata de ea insasi cu atata indaratnicie!
Vreau sa ma bucur ca am creat ceva acum,"pe ultima suta de metri",dar presimt ca o sa ma caiesc amarnic...

Stupid decisions

Everybody makes them.Some more than others.I,for one,seem prone to acting suicidal most of the time,even though I don't (always) mean it.
Today was my second day of almost not eating anything from dusk till dawn,of spending countless (and pointless) hours attending draining courses,of punishing myself for God knows what mistake.
I mean,was it really necessary to go out in the cold after jumping out of a scalding shower?(my back doesn't seem to take kindly to my reckless goals nowadays either)
And did I actually presume I would get to enjoy a nice night out watching a play?Of course we didn't know where the place was,why presume such a marvelous feat...Not to mention-but I really can't mention that,though.
Fact of the matter is that I don't love myself to even care anymore,apparently.Otherwise,why would I torture my body and torment my mind in such ways?They're mundane,I can see that,but that's what makes it all terrifying -I feel at such a loss that I'll probably (an intentionally!) forget to drink a glass of water while it's pouring outside...
I need to dry my clothes and go to sleep-maybe my nightmares will take pity on me...

Soaking feet

I'll give you eternal beauty
carved into words
for a pair of dry socks

I'll trade my knowing eyes
and burdened palms
for steaming black and crimson

I'll lend you my trembling toes
for a dry umbrella

I'll renounce my fleeting wisdom
for ungrasped oblivion
underneath
warm covers

I'll throw away my crackling knees
to have a burning chest
enveloping mine

I'll twist and turn my jealous wrists
in search
of soothing balms

I'll dump aside my silent pride
for promises
I dare not conjure by myself

I'll betray my murmuring lips
for a piece
of crumbling bread

I'll curse the gods who have blessed
for I am an animal
and the storm is much too close

Wish you not

Nu iti doresc deloc sa ai parte de
oameni carora le lipseste filtrul bunului-simt,
nopti in care te rogi sa poti dormi,
ferestre mult prea luminoase,
cafea cu gust de cana,
metrouri alambicate,
holuri goale de sentiment,
ore abisale intr-un colt leganat,
incredere ciuntita si stearpa,
rasete soptite,
planuri ce trebuie neaparat ascunse,
viziuni mai mult decat imposibile,
decizii aparent benefice,
sentimentul de gol in fiinta intreaga
vreodata.

In schimb,iti doresc sa ai parte de
bucuria unei reuniuni restranse,
ecoul rasului neschimbat,
plimbari care lasa urme de talpi in spate,
glume si valuri impinse de vant,
oameni frumosi,buni si dragi,
sentimentul cald ca unele lucruri nu se schimba,
o liniste care inseamna totul,
oase care dor de atata bucurie,
promisiunea unei noi aventuri,
speranta.

Strawberry delight

lumina care se ascunde dupa draperii dimineata.
manerul canii de cafea.
o pata de ruj uitata in coltul gurii.
o dunga pe cartela de metrou.
pantofii unei straine simpatice.
telefonul greoi si vechi.
desenul pus pe geanta loiala.
omuletul impietrit de pe cealalta parte a drumului.
unghiile unei prietene.
surasul unei fapte dragute.
dulceata si bunatatea dintr-o tarta.
pixul preferat.
capacul care se intrezareste in banca.
florile din bratele vecinei.
cheile ascunse in buzunar.
semnul mare si luminos care ne vegheaza.
afisele care imbraca fatada caminului.
buburuzele de pe birou.
coperta unei obligatii.
prosopul unui baiat dragut.
mesajul unei revederi frumoase.
muscatura din ultimul mar.
dorinta unor maini neingrijite.
sunetul colorat al unei melodii senzuale.
fumul etern al holului.
pleoapele lipite de oboseala.

Packed sunshine

You have to somehow survive this spiritually,you just have to...Otherwise,how would 12 straight hours of college make sense?Especially with merely 5 hours of sleep on board...

I know it sounds nuts and it most probably is,but this is life how I know it and it's taking a toll on both my stomach and nerves.

You have to laugh at a silly joke first thing in the morning.Or let the words of fine poetry sink into your bones and sprout during lonesome hours.You need to allow your friends to comfort you,even when you feel like you don't deserve it.
I mean,nothing bad will happen if you sprinkle those couple of lecture room hours with tales of better times or stealthily eaten chocolate.
Yeah,most courses are excruciatingly boring/exhausting,but there's music and stories and your imagination is always there,right?Not to mention offensive humor that only facial expressions can ever counterattack justly.
You see,these colorful lies are the equivalent of "packed sunshine" on gloomy days-you can't go around all the time with miserable prospects now,can you?Don't answer that.
Let me soothe my aching bones for a while...

Compressed and depressed

hours neatly ironed and packed away
in suitcases that have seen
too many dirty floors

minutes seasoned with
hot contempt and cold forgetfulness
in transparent tombs
that most often hold for
plates

seconds strapped to
slouching shoulders,
molding themselves above
a crooked backbone,
slipping away beneath
a blue beast

my decades are surreal

my years are numbers

my days are compressed
and depressed sequences
of events that succumb
to evanescence

feeling becomes slightly peculiar
when serving
to a timer

I've learned to fear
the clocks which count
my existence

Bloody rant

(Urmeaza un "plans de mila" catastrofal si un limbaj enervant/"indecent"-proceed at own risk/convenience...)

Cum cacat sa ai partial la engleza sambata dimineata la 8 fix?Cum?!Ma simt de parca Universul ar fi pus un pariu impotriva mea si l-ar fi castigat prematur.
Oricum,cu cele cateva ore de somn la purtator si un creier mai plin de cafea decat de informatii,la ce sa te astepti?
Sa zicem ca primele exercitii au mers relativ bine-...bine,asta in functie de cum interpreteaza fiecare "relativ" si "primele",in conditiile in care au fost 12 exercitii in aproape 3 ore,adica...
Ultimele dintre ele au fost facute orbeste-nu mai puteam si gata.Nici nu stiu cum am ajuns la metrou,daramite acasa...
In fine,lasand la o parte dramatizarea mea de scolar ofuscat,ideea este ca mi se pare mult prea mult efort pentru (aproximativ) nimic.Materia respectiva nu ma atrage,oboseala din timpul saptamanii m-a ajuns din urma,"viata e greu",toate cele.
Nu ca viitorul s-ar arata mai promitator-o serie de actiuni mecanice sa ocupe toate spatiile ceasului cu rezultate incerte,ce bucurie!
Imi bag picioarele in ea de zi si ma ascund in pat,ce naiba...

Back and forth

The utter absurdity of things eludes me.
Why are these curtains so...lacy?
The stumps of time crawl at my feet and I cannot surpass them.
I'll read another page,I'll read another page,I'll burn another page...
To feel so wise and so absurdly hollow at the same time,what a consuming paradox.
The only solid ground my present stands upon is the quicksand of the future-how fitting!
I'm so damn tired,but this coffee is so damn good...
This room is infinitely small for an expanding sort of temporary madness.
I might just take up that offer of a "life" now,please!
I will clean,pack,pace back and forth,sing,lament-anything but actually study for tomorrow's exam...
My eyes are drowning in pink and green and pointless knowledge...
Equally bored/unwilling to study neighbors are just the thing I needed.
This time tomorrow,I'll be home and everything will have passed.
Oh,what a tedious day!

Why do I even...

rising and collapsing lungs.
liquids boiled and brewed and running.
a sheet more crumbled than a dream.
fingers tracing the contours of a fantasy.
presumptuous stares.
bored beyond belief.
the giggles and sighs of different lives.
sinking mattress.
endless books of limited letters.
crackling knees and jaw.
childish and undesired companions.
knowledge that slips away from its birth.
repetitive food.
foreign voices of familiar faces.
domestic freedom.
music that blends into your blood.
tap,tap,tap.
an existence put down in virtual ink.
funny neighbors.
the same old worries of yesterday and tomorrow.
casual confidence.
too many breaks.
apathy of the soul and feet.
no room for rebellion.
prolonged waiting.
induced darkness.

Losing track of time

I built a tower by crushing
a clock.
I fed upon the glistening liquid
of unconsciousness.
I'm the only witness
of catastrophic hands upon cups
and make-believe earthquakes
under beds.
the world has sunk into itself
while I was blinking-
ripe,moldy and obscene,
a cluster of heartache
meant to smother
the silence.
and not a moment too soon-
I am confused beyond dread
by the dripping black
of droughty water
marking what just is,
what is gained
and what is to be lost.
I can't gather a basket
of wise eyes.
I can't bring myself
to breed a revolution.
I can't swallow a handful of hours
and pretend I'm fine.

Bicycle T-shirt

Though it may seem like a joke-and very fittingly so,I might add-I have this one T-shirt that makes me feel...different when I'm wearing it.Not "good-different",not "bad-different",just...different.
It's nothing out of the ordinary,only a two shades of green,bicycle print,colorful blouse that has something in German stapled across it.
I guess it's one of those sentiments you so very rarely experience when acknowledging your own skin.
You're that one person you get stuck with,well,for the rest of your life and there's a tendency to forget it most times.
The thing is,in this sea of "comfort" and monotony,you'll get small storms-actually looking at yourself in the mirror,getting a cut or a bruise,thinking so much that it starts hurting-which make "being" more real than you could really conjure with your imagination.
And all of this because of a lousy T-shirt,who would have guessed?
Maybe it's the small things which get to you more than,let's say,enormous catastrophes.The little tragedies or events will resonate with you because they're intensely familiar and personal.And what's more intimate than a second skin?
This has been a truly peculiar day,my friends.A truly peculiar one...