Mending light and twisted shadows

Life is rather simple,I guess.You need air and food and water to survive,a shelter and a purpose to live,love to give meaning to it all.And you need them in this order specifically.Who's ever been able to properly grasp philosophy on an empty stomach anyway?

Thankfully,the Heavens have been kind to me-I now have enough to keep me going,but less than it would suffice for me to stop craving for more.Though this might not be the best way to put it,I'm proud.I'm proud of myself for trying to work with what I've been given,in the hope of achieving a better outcome.Somewhere along the road,my eyes have been cleansed and my mind has been opened-call it a variation of baptism,if you will.And I'm not ashamed to admit that I draw my energy and happiness from things and events that others may regard as childish,even excessively mundane.

Even so,I'm grateful for a good night's sleep.I'm seeing a privilege in the same morning routine of coffee,cats and sun-filled skies,not a granted thing.I can't imagine a more bonding activity than reading a book beside my brother,with nature pleasantly surrounding us.There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing that everyone you care about is safe and sound in this apparently swallowing pattern.

How easily could this empire burn to the ground!How undisturbed would the Universe carry on its progression,while your entire reality crumbles at your feet!

I'd rather not think about such scenarios,though I often find myself doing the exact opposite.That's when a concoction of panic and pain takes over,that's when it all goes to Hell.No matter how many tears I shed or how many prayers I say,it won't go away-the crippling sensation of helplessness.

The nightmares then start creeping in,with the full moon as their silent witness.
Here we go again...

For the love of words!

...because what am I without my words?I cannot stand before the world without an idea orbiting around passion's core or a symphony of letters rolling towards the tip of my tongue.I need to constantly feel a novel carving itself between the edges of my ribs,around my heart's restless beat,beneath the skin of my loins.I desire nothing but the fragile skeleton of sincere poetry and the gripping strings of endless pages.My bones are made of wood,my meat's a sea of ink,the skin above it-transparent stories of life and death and everything in between.
Like rivers with reversed streams,my veins shelter crimson blood and exploding dreams in their journey to a higher power.And among the tallest mountains it dwells!And a crown of troubled thoughts it wears!And all that I am sprouts from there!Such heavy worlds on such weary shoulders...This glorious burden can crumble at any moment,its beauty becoming an unforgiving poison.And it often does...
Those beloved ideas turn into deceitful crows with pitch black feathers,their flight smothering and deceitful.Words wither and letters crush under the weight of their own bitter substance.The lustful necessity of a blooming novel only ends up destroying the organic being that holds its plot.Marrow drips from the ends of incomplete rhymes and action mirrors only splattered events.It's as if anxiety had become a cancer of some sorts,spreading and clutching to every cell of reason and tranquility and will not to survive,but to live.
How ironic!The master at the feet of his very own beasts!I'm already bleeding on the inside and it's starting to show...If only I could sleep.If only I could forget.If only I could welcome oblivion as a dear friend.

Naked nerves

Imi fuge pamantul de sub picioare.Desi ceasul din colt striga din toti rarunchii arcuiti sa ma misc,nu pot.Ma sare cu o secunda la fiecare respiratie si raman mereu in urma.De parca as putea amaneta ore,de parca as putea imprumuta zile...Nu-mi vine in minte decat un covor acum.Un covor imens ce se rostogoleste monoton,cu un miez de spirale incerte si ticaituri asurzitoare.Nici macar toate zambetele din lume n-ar putea schimba acum faptul ca viata imi pare ca un covor ce abia asteapta sa fie calcat de cineva in picioare.
Doare?Doare.Doare cand ti se inroseste carnea si ti se lipesc buzele de dinti si gandurile ti se avanta prin minte cu furia brutala a o mie de soldati.Ce sa-i faci?Rabufnirea te condamna automat,iar linistea te umple de o fiere gretoasa.Calea de mijloc nu aduce consolarea niciunei parti-dimpotriva,lama ei boanta oscileaza constant intre a adanci rana si a-i oferi sarutul absentei.Ce faci cand vrei sa tipi,dar nu poti decat sa taci?Blestemi totul.Insa iti amintesti ca Universul este crud si ai vrea sa retragi veninul in cochilia-i alba.Pana la urma,cine stie?Nici nu vreau sa termin gandul asta,asa ca-i pecetluiesc soarta pe hartie.Sunt furioasa pe propria-mi furie si am pierdut planul de evadare din aceasta mizerabila cusca.
Oare cand am sa inteleg cu adevarat ca nimic nu dureaza o vesnicie?Emotiile au o data de expirare timpurie,iar sentimentele se descompun uneori de la sine.Nu mai simt nimic acum.Furie,entuziasm,mandrie,regret,consolare,inconstienta,toate au fost sterse de o mana invizibila de pe tablia sufletului.Sunt goala.Sunt stearpa.Sunt o carcasa fara scop si fara motivatie.O sa raman asa o vreme.Poate ca timpul chiar vindeca...Nu!Noaptea vindeca si intuneca si invinge orice tentativa de razvratire.Tic-tac,tic-tac...

Blindfolded revelation

let's pretend the night's a sea of widowed dreams,
all black and deceitful and hungry for a saving ship.
let's pretend the light's a friendly gift from the gods,
a balm of yellow substance and tangerine core.
let's pretend I'm all grown up now,
wanting to create and fearful of the fall.
let's pretend this worn out circle is our sole treasure,
which we hate to admit,but love to remember.
let's pretend this moment is of divine origin,
with nature flowing towards my broken dignity.
let's pretend I can handle whatever life throws at me,
be it the smile of a stranger or my chest disintegrating.
let's pretend that time and death do not exist
and that the Universe is a blend of wonders and amethyst.
let's pretend my youth is just a fleeting game,
one I could recalibrate and somehow start again.
let's pretend we're real and infinite and blessed,
so that my dreams won't haunt me like ravenous beasts again.
let's pretend.

Lost tapes and fluffy blankets

Beautiful dreams make up for ugly nights.This is my youth,this is my pride!A handful of blue words and crafted emotions,all spread out on sheets of strange perfume.Not quite what I've been dreaming about in the past,when I still believed in...It doesn't matter.I won't stop!I'll sing my songs and I'll raise my voice and I'll make my life an important one!This doesn't mean I have to conquer the world-oh,no!My bedroom,a tormented soul and the company of a beloved one would more than suffice.You see,I've built myself to be contempt,yet to always be craving for a little bit more.Better eyes,better lyrics,better core...It's never easy,it's never dull.With time moving as fast as it does,I rarely see my existence as my own anymore.But when I do,it's all an explosion of marvel and excitement and great things to come.If my mind can conjure it,then my body will most definitely have to materialize it!Beautiful dreams really do make up for ugly nights.

Big small things

This is the city of my youth,the city of my life.I've seen most of its corners and my memories are bound to it like roots to soil.Yet...Yet it sometimes scares me how much I deny reality.How buildings suddenly appear,though they have been there for years and years.How everything just is- right here,right now.And I have to open my eyes a little wider to let it all sink in...

I think a man wanting a child is a sign of true love.I think the look on his face upon seeing a baby is priceless.I think that nudging his wife every time a small one passes them by is beyond adorable.I think a protective and loving father is one of life's great blessings.I think I'm really,really,really lucky...

There is more to this than meets the eye...Brighter colors,fuller lives,happier hearts,tighter embraces,a general feeling of fulfillment we either don't see or choose to ignore.The Universe can be divided into infinite possibilities and spaces,so many that our minds cannot even begin to fathom!And I am worried and amazed and confused,all at the same time...

"Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds..."

Busy Saturday bee

List of things I have accomplished today:

• woke up after a heavenly night of sleep and pretty dreams
• had a traditional cup of coffee in the company of my furry angels
• helped dad do some manly work in a very manly way ( 'cause,you know,I'm a manly man at heart )
• cooked without setting the house on fire (hurray!)
• managed to somehow not drown in the bathtub (double hurray!)
• tamed my hair and obtained what my friends call a "squirrel-like" look
• went out with my dear friend Lizzie for a "fangirl session" and a "no-dogs-allowed" walk
• freaked out about uni (again)
• spent my youth on the Internet (with no regrets whatsoever)

As you can see,I am a very organized,dedicated and prolific professional (*ba dum tsss*).Whatever,there's still time to rule the world...Geronimo!

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...