"When summer's gone..."

"...where will we be?"

It's official: this is the last day of summer.Consequently,I should go back in order for me to move forward...

JUNE.Extremely disturbing month.An endless array of silly exams,silly chores and silly concerns.Luggage that broke my palms.Cat problems and so many gloomy days."Success" and disappointment all mixed into one.Sweaty back and growing curls.Way too many train rides for my personal comfort.Meaningless stress.The constant itch to do anything but study.The promise of a more self-centered future.Random cockroaches,plates housing dead cigarettes,soothing music.A vow to never be a martyr again.A time when "goodbye" meant going home.Sleepless,but not fun,summer nights.Insecurity.

JULY.A very well deserved bottle of white wine.Buying colorful things to mend my soul.Covered in white paint in the middle of a white room.Three friends,two small kittens,one growing nightmare to last me the whole month.Meeting old colleagues and realizing I haven't done enough.Learning how to cook and how to cope with my loud mind.A wave of heat designed by Satan himself to make our hope wither.Nameless stories to make the heart run faster.Drained "people skills".Growing scared.Family drama.Music,movies,shows-the recipe for numbness.Awaiting and dreading change.

AUGUST.Submerged in a sea of melting days and haunted nights.A trip to the sea which willingly doesn't include me.One blue and sleepless night.Weird visions of myself and the world around me.Confiding in the endless sky.Sore muscles,perpetual misunderstandings,long and silent week.Auburn hair.Almond candy.Noisy tears.Small bursts of lucidity in a vortex of emotional shadows.Getting fatter,but not necessarily happier,by the day.Blood I can no longer heal.Fear,fear,fear.Stumbling among unanswered questions.Seclusion as a solution.Friends I don't deserve.Cats,apples,tons of coffee.The realization that growing doesn't always mean growing up.

Well,I guess I'm here now.Let a new season come.

Cold sunshine

Sleep is seeping through my bones and making my marrow bitter.
I just can't seem to get my coffee right these days!
I think we must have really upset Heaven if the angels are weeping such cold tears this morning.
I'm escaping from reality through other people's stories and there's nothing you can do to stop me.
Laziness and cooking don't make a pretty pair,but my hands need to create, no matter what my thick skull drowsily commands.
My love for green apples will end up in me fainting,I can assure you of that.
The sun already has that fall shiver to it,though I should be grateful I've seen its blinding glow today.
Dearest friend,your voice is a balm and your words make me honestly happy!
The garden is preparing for a new season:rusty orange,fading green,lush brown.
The tears on my face are not born out of fear of the past,but of joy for my present.
Chamomile tea is my best friend in the night.
I push myself because I have nothing to lose.
One more chapter before bedtime.
One more...

The Not-So-Great Deluge

I take my words back-I want summer to stay with all its hellish glory.Anything but this soggy,cold and sudden display of autumn "charm".

I'm wearing winter clothes and longing for tea and wondering whether now is the right time to learn how to swim at last.

I'm wasting time and space,but I don't seem to care that much.

Why do certain songs remind me of funerals?Jesus...

I scream so much on the inside that I probably wouldn't be able to conjure a whimper if it really came down to it.

These damp days are forcing my obsessions and I really shouldn't be falling for people I can't have anymore.

My comfort lies in a show about pies and in the belief that somewhere,in a distant and parallel Universe,things are going my way.

As an Aquarius,I demand that this rainy tantrum stop!
I wish I could live in a fantasy world,but even those are flawed.

I'm going to drown either in this depressing water or my misery,whichever gets to me first.

I take my words back-I want summer to stay with all its carelessness,sunshine and bliss.

Coffee and biscuits

My biggest regret in life so far is not having the guts to even start writing the stories that are overpopulating my mind.It's lame,but it's true.

Every single time I get some sort of "spark of genius",the phrase "it's all been done before" comes to mind and I just end up sitting there,paralyzed and utterly defeated.

I used to think I was special because I could write better than the people I knew and that defined me to a great extent.Then I started reading,researching,doubting-not big names,but people who weren't in textbooks or museums or popular culture.And I wept on the inside because I wasn't special anymore.

I was just a silly girl,holding on to her coffee and biscuits and literary fantasies.

This,this daily thing,this is a lie and I know it all too well.It's a glittery anchor that's distracting me from the sight of a sinking ship.

Oh,I'm so damn afraid!Of failing!Of succeeding!Of finding a meaning to this life I decided to treat with utmost indifference.

Stories live and stories die within the confines of my brain all the time,while I do nothing about it.Such a sad fate...

Shorts and fluffy socks

It's hard for me to "rise and shine" when I'm covered in three tons of blankets and the sun is nowhere in sight.
I'm never giving up coffee,that's for sure!
I've been sharing my room with a sneaky cockroach for the past two days and solely the thought of it all makes my skin crawl.
Autumn is here early,which means I have an excuse to drink tea all the time,the rain just won't leave us be and I'm sporting shorts with fluffy socks.
I've been wondering what it would be like to be a bear lately and I guess that pretty much shows my level of sanity at this point.
These cats have become as needy and clingy as their human mother.
Damn you,Lee Pace-damn you and your perfect existence to Hell!
It would be a wise thing for mom to stop cooking so well/much.
This black hole inside my stomach is really scaring me.
For an artist,I sure don't make a lot of art...
Reading before sleep is putting these red glasses to good use.
Change is definitely coming.

A name from the sea

A good friend reminded me that today is my name day and,to be honest,I was a little bit shocked,though pleased.Shocked because it's once again hard to grasp the meaning of another year gone by and pleased because I don't shy away from an opportunity to feel special.

I love my name and I feel lucky I do so.It fits me in all its shapes and forms,common or uncommon as it may be.

My dad,an Adrian himself,decided to call me this way (since my mother wanted to have a boy and also wanted to leave me at the hospital)-but that's another story for another day.

Even so,I'm always Anda/Andu around the house and hearing my "real" name in these circumstances would totally creep me out.

Adriana reminds me of the sea,of royal gold,of times and places covered in a nostalgic glow.It's ivory against milky marble and the sound of crashing waves.It's a sequence of letters that translates into history and soul.It's one of the few things I can call my own without feeling a pang of despair in my chest.

I'm not a name,but my name.

Beasts

I'm surrounded by beasts.
They're in my dreams,hairy and breathing hot against my neck when the night decides to swallow us.
They're beneath my sheets,full of sweat and dust and images with no final chapter.
They're in my mouth,tumbling along caged words and forgotten promises.
They're on top of my legs,fluffy and giddy and eager to show their tiny claws in a make-believe hunt.
They're around me,disguised as ordinary people with ordinary flaws.
They're in time,haunting the past,testing the present and threatening the future.
They're in blurry moments,when they take advantage of lost boys and silly girls.
They're in the persons I've never met,making me believe in stories I wish could be real.
They're inside a black box,feeding a red hunger that contaminates the mind beyond relief.
They're in my skull,chanting disgraceful songs about happiness.
They're in the silence before sleep,where they breed and laugh maniacally.
They're everywhere.
I'm a beast.

Faceless half

My back was moaning from an imaginary wind's touch.The sheets were piling up beneath me,tired of so many twists and turns.A night bathed in the full moon's aura.Eyelids shut,breathing hot.Realities split and separated like water from oil.And you...

You were wonderfully surreal,golden hair and a face that kept eluding me.A familiar street,playful black puppy,small talk.It felt so real,like only dreams can sometimes be.

Brushed kisses,silly giggles,persistent signs of a cold.My insides became fuzzy and I was falling in love beyond the darkness.

Everything is a bit blurry now,but the tingling in my fingertips is somehow still present.

I was lying on my back on the pavement alongside someone who felt like my best friend when it started snowing:lush snowflakes against a washed up mustard sky.I thought of happiness.I became happiness.But then I had to wake up.

The first word that came to my mental lips was "compact" and I tried holding on to all the pieces,only to have very few in my memory's palms.

With the sunlight blazing now,I can only wish that my faceless half is more tangible than a dream somewhere in the world.

"Blood is thicker than water"

I think we all know the saying "blood is thicker than water",meaning that the biological bond established between one and one's family should prevail over other kinds of human relations.Well,the irony of this half-truth surpasses laughter and falls right into damn tragedy.

Apparently,the whole thing goes somewhere along the lines of "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb".Which is basically the most sophisticated "fuck you" I've ever come across in my entire life.

Even so,it got me thinking about life's enormous complexity,which,in its turn,"honored" me with an enormous headache.This and the fact that,upon returning from a pleasant night out with the girls,I found my folks arguing like a pair of stubborn five-year-olds and all I wanted to do is beat the everloving immaturity out of them (because words don't work anymore for their hollow skulls).

Anyway-how do you fix a family that sometimes doesn't look like a family anymore?I mean,I understand how I could be "incompatible" with my parents-yes,they made my body,but my soul is mine and mine to keep.But what about the two of them?Was a union not their choice?I surely don't remember mom being sold for three goats and a pot of gold,so what's the deal then?
Is anything built to last anymore,be it blood or water?My first answer is a clear-cut "no",which scares me more than I'd like to admit.We're just so volatile and changeable and selfish that few things ever escape unharmed from our destructive patterns.
And so,I'm left to contemplate the sheer pointlessness of my actions.I'm trying to build a golden castle out of glitter for people who want to live in the mud.
And it pains me,it pains me to see how the only thing I truly care about in this godforsaken world is slowly,but surely,falling apart.It's like having a huge chunk of your identity just washed away by a nameless sea.
I'm angry and I'm sad and I'm starting to believe that me being born wasn't the Universe's plan after all.

Eye to eye

Yes,I need glasses.
Turns out all these years of clutching to books and indulging in movies/TV shows by the dozen didn't really give my eyesight the "royal treatment".

Though my normal vision is apparently at 112% (I suspect the doctor was lying because,c'mon,we're talking about me right here!),I have what he called "intellectual myopia".Which sounds pretty fancy and flattering (to be honest),but it could seriously turn round and bite me in the ass along the line.

So I have to be a little more careful now.Translation:"this is going to be Hell because I like to be reckless when it comes to myself in a truly masochistic way".

But I don't mind wearing glasses-I have been told I look like a "pervy teacher" with a pair on,so there's a perk to my not so pending visual doom right there!

Truth be told,it was kinda scary to be warned I'm damaging myself,especially when I know I rely on my sight so much.My senses are a major part of who I am as an artist and as a plain person,meaning I need to mellow the recklessness a bit.

This being said,see you later,alligator!

(Aaan the award for Worst Joke of the Year goes to yours truly.)

Falling into myself

It's the safest place around right now,demons and all.No more minds I can't permeate,no more signs I can't read.I know where my broken China lies within me and I can barely cope with that,let alone try and fix someone else's.It may be selfish,but it's sane and utterly necessary.

I'll clutch to the roots of beautiful memories and never look down at the abyss stretching beyond my soles.I'll read stories till my eyes get sore,so that the images oozing from the rotten side of my brain won't get to me.I'll ignore all attempts of external "tough love" and confide into the stars crowding behind my closed eyelids.
It's insane,I know,I know!But I need to fix my China.I need to understand what's wrong with me because this anonymous disease that's haunting my emotional insides can't get any further.I need to heal myself somehow.I have to become my own friend,priest,doctor,mother,lover,enemy and angel.
So I have to fall.To fall within myself and work my way up to the surface with a warmer smile and steadier feet.

Soaked dusk

You sometimes grieve things you never knew you lost in the first place:innocence,hope,yourself.

It doesn't necessarily have to be a sudden outburst of emotion and it doesn't have to seep from time to time like a faulty pipe of rawness.
For me,it was a cathartic dusk,while sitting on the single concrete step outside my front door,with my knees buried into my chin and tears overflowing my pores.

I tried shedding the weight with a witness,but mother can only understand so much.I don't blame her-that's what marvelous friends are for,right?To understand your emotional skeleton,then still love you and stick around.I'm grateful.

I think I stopped being a child when I came to realize adults are as fragile and as broken as we are,but bigger and more willing to switch between masks.That was it:no more goals,no more turning point.Just a slow crawl through life and all its twisted wonders.

It was like a rush and a wave and a downpour all into one-and I was clean again.Miserable and disappointed,but clean.

I cried myself through a silent emotional breakdown and came out baptized in the end.

Emotionally clogged

I feel humiliated.I feel scared.I feel sick to my stomach.It never crossed my mind that reality could,all of a sudden,take more of its side of the deal.

It's funny how you can accuse yourself of a thousand imaginary crimes in your head without a flinch,yet,the minute an "outsider" points out some flaw,you feel your knees grow weak and your cheeks flushed and your heart somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.It's funny-only actually it's not.

What hurts most is that...Well,everything hurts right now.From my teeth to my hips to my ankles,it all seems surreal and unworthy.I seem surreal to myself.

When a member of the family whom you hold near and dear calls out in front of your friends the fact that you basically stay inside all day,surrounded by cats and a general desire to not do one single thing,then...Then you die a little inside.Because you're wearing stupid "around the house" clothes and you feel uncomfortable.Because,even though you know they understand your reasons more than anyone,you wish your friends didn't hear that.Because you're rendered speechless by a "joke" that makes you want to cry rather than laugh.

I can't cry for the life of me right now,which would be the best remedy for this godforsaken day.She had no right,no right to do that to me,not with "witnesses" anyway.Like they say around here,"no good deed goes unpunished".

I wish I could just switch myself off and come back from within the void with some damn answers.Truth be told,I'd rather just not exist this afternoon...

And,wouldn't you know it,I still ended up being the "big bad bitch"!Go figure.

I'm out of words,out of tears,I'm emotionally clogged.Pair that up with some anxiety and a lot of questions and you'll find yourself wishing you lived closer to a liquor store.

I feel irrationally young.I feel clueless.I feel like I'm the only one that hasn't gotten her life together.And that just sucks immensely.

I'm a human size ball of pain that's not even real and I don't have a memory eraser.

ohgodohgodohgod

This is one of those days when everything appears to be too fucked up for logic to apply.

Complete and confused

I'm so tired I could cry,even though I've slept more than enough.
I'm bitchy for no reason whatsoever and I want to punch myself in the face for it.
I'm this close to having a panic attack and you wanting to get me out of the house against my will isn't helping at all.
I'm relieved that my brother's back home,even though he's not quite paying attention to me right now.
I'm torn between the urge to create and the urge to cry until I see blood.
I'm hungry for something more than food,but I don't know what.
I'm momentarily content when I lose myself in a filmed story.
I'm aware of the fact that my methods of coping are pointless.
I'm so damn scared of everything that I can't even function properly sometimes.
I wish I could just live in a fictional world of my choice.
I'm tired of being mean towards others just because I can't be any meaner towards myself.
I'm angry at my aching shoulder.
I'm always taking care of cats.
I'm selfish because I'm falling apart.
I'm willing to read my anxiety away.
I'm...

Scraped together life

my mornings are starting to become afternoons
because my eyes forget to emerge
from beneath a glowing pool
of black and tender letters

my hands were built to make
and so they do-
from knife to pen,they glide and cut
through flesh and wound
of either plate or paper
with ceaseless demand
of silent glory

my life is a blanket,
a patched up work of art in the making,
doused in misery and flickers of hope,
a shelter for the needy and the greedy
because I am both

my days are but lyrical phantoms,
transparent lies cropped out to fit
a journal's geometrical body
and fictional desires

Lana and Jim

Grumpy awakening.
Breakfast made by daddy.
The feeling of an empty house.
Utterly lazy bones.
Aquatic change of view.
Still orange-y hair.
Fluffy kitten bellies in my bed.
Songs that I wish I could sing without shame.
Tales about the future from the past-beautiful irony,isn't it?
Organic lunch and a glimpse of regret.
How did I end up watching this Russian soap opera anyway?
Stupid,silly,curly hair.
Being extremely self-conscious doesn't help waiting in the middle of town,with everyone's eyes aimed at you.
Our Lana Del Rey and Jim Morrison T-shirts would make gorgeous babies,honey.
Words in the park.
Brewing storm above and talented sketches in hands.
I've never been more of a mess in my entire life,yet a nice coffee and a good friend manage to soften the ache inside.
Supermarket adventure for two.
There will come a day when I won't feel awkward anymore.
Black adrenaline.
Space stories.
What a day...

Oh,Mary...

There's young Mary,who doesn't know what she wants,who laments about nothingness,who cares too much about dust.She'll blend in a crowd and wish that she didn't just for the right one.Her brain is made out of dried flowers,oozy nightmares and organic revelations.She can write about you.Mary loves cats.She's a martyr.

There's middle Mary,who knows what she once wanted,who seldom breaks her facade,who'll throw a coin in the air to pick her mood.She'll take your pain away with one warm hand and wish she could do that for herself too.Her brain consists of bills,alarm clocks and that one trip to the beach.She can draw you.Mary loves her family.She's a martyr.

There's old Mary,who's always known what she wanted,who'll curse you without flinching,who cares about caring.She'll be as moody as a hurricane and not give a damn about it.Her brain is a collection of memories,recipes and moral values.She can tell stories about you.Mary loves dwelling in the past.She's a martyr.

P.S.I'm probably drunk and verging on a diabetic coma.My brother is just fine.I don't think I deserve this name.

Blue tongue

my tongue tastes blue
when the sheets are gathered beneath me
like an anatomical origami
of a flawed design

my tongue tastes cerulean
when my arms hiss and moan
beneath the weight of so many
material idols

my tongue tastes teal
when the hours grow vapidly long
so that reality bursts out
from a framed screen

my tongue tastes sapphirine
when the arches of this church
scream in a silent flicker
of a chorus of candles
for me to run out

my tongue tastes blue
when my burning brain
loses all hope
of personal redemption

I've got my hands full!

I'll just keep pushing my body into either exhaustion or utter laziness-whichever comes first,anyhow.

Since my days are never balanced,that's like swaying between slavery and Eden's grasp.

I do love being a bit overwhelmed by it all:hands full,muscles on the verge of tearing,voice almost pitched from verbal action.

On the other hand,I love having absolutely nothing to do:body tingling from summer heat,ears at the mercy of earthly angels,voice like a raspy murmur at the back of my throat.

It's never an equal marriage though,be it per days or per hours.A daunting task will be followed by Adam's kiss and vice versa.I'm never quite an unsung hero,yet never a tacit villain either.

If I were somebody else,I'd probably hate myself for doing this to myself.

Movement keeps me sane,while idleness pushes me into thinking about locked things.If I could just part this shaky path down the middle...

I'll just keep pushing myself into one direction or another until I find some peace of mind.

No signal

A lack of certain information is like nightmare fuel for me.

For example,my brother is currently at a sports camp in the middle of fuck knows where in the mountains,his phone is basically useless and my pulse is skyrocketing as we speak.I mean,I'm glad nobody can see into my brain because it's an ugly place to be right now!

The best thing you could do in life is to "think happy thoughts"-yeah,I don't function like that,though I really wish I did...

I am,for lack of a better phrasing,freaking out.

The scenarios in my head grow darker and scarier by the hour and I mask panic with indifference.I feel like my family believes I couldn't care less about my brother-truth of the matter is I feel my affection as being so rooted and intrinsic that a "pompous" display of such would be tacky and degrading.Therefore,I'm left here emotionally paralyzed,while he's probably having fun-as he should be.

But,as night draws in,I'm left alone with my stupid imagination and...it isn't pretty.I can assure you of that.

Glamorous illusion

That's no way to live.

Champagne,blinding lights,cackling beads,sensuous and hollow voices.

That's a lie.

A marvelous,beautiful,perfect lie that I'd love to be able to bathe in for the rest of my days.But I can't.Not with this body,not with this mind.

Because glistening surroundings don't make your breaths steadier.Because fashionable clothes don't make you feel more of a person.Because denying reality doesn't make you saner or better.And not even all the liquor in the world can change that...

It's wonderful,though.It's like a golden bubble where nothing can ever hurt you.You're allowed to be a beautiful fool because that's what's expected of you.Only I'm neither...

And the green light fades away,giving way to a neon burst of tangible accuracy.The show is over-literally.

I'm stuck with a peculiar taste at the back of my mouth-both sour and sweet-and a collapsing song in the middle of my skull.It's all a glamorous illusion,that's all that it is...

Morning tears

I have to cry my eyes into a mess
in order to be heard,
then hiccup fragments of words
for my message to get through
to a raging pulse

why do we seek stirring drama
when happiness is at hand?

I loathe being vulnerable,yet here I am,
an open wound and a shaking tomb
of the pride I once prized

a rainbow after the storm-
how the irony makes us blind!

my show has tucked away seams
and a snarl at all times ready
to avert a baby-war

ashamed and content,I realize
that this balance is frail,alive,
ready to fall and scrape my mental knees
to blood and beyond

Blending halves

I'm done.

I can't do this anymore.I'm done trying to keep alive a peace you all want to trade for war.

My heart is full of love and eagerness and joy at the sight of a complete family,yet you silently decide to poison it with indirect afflictions.

Why do I even try?Why do I expect an ounce of balance under this roof when I know the slightest spark may trigger a full-blown explosion?

Dear God,I'm such a damned fool!

But I try,I always do.I bite my tongue and stomp on my pride because life's a bitch and you never know when...

I can't tell happiness from misery anymore because they're together all the time:blending,churning,consuming the very last drop of sanity I have left in this brittle head of mine...

The worst part is I can't ever let go,not even when I'm watching a movie or trying to fall asleep.

That's the thing with reality:it's in a permanent state of "right in your face".

I don't know how many foreign wrongs I can mend anymore...

Just the two of us

Me and my brother,we're a weird lot.

I mean,one minute we're getting along just fine,the next we're fighting like a pair of senile nuns.

It's easier though when it's just the two of us because there's nobody else to take sides or whatnot.

If we're in the same mood,that's jackpot right there:childish,serious,lazy,hungry and so on.But if we're not,then God help us all!

Though I'm willing to ignore some things and just count to 10 till I let go of whatever is bothering me,there are times when I act like I'm 7 and,well,you get the idea.

I love him more than I love myself,even if I don't always show it.I can be a mother and a sister and a friend...and still smack him over the head if he's being a little brat.

Between taking care of the household while we're "alone together" and managing this heat,I'm truly jumpy and exhausted.

I wouldn't have it any other way...

Words,people,words!

Ca sa fim pe aceeasi pagina de la bunul inceput,trebuie sa stiti urmatorul lucru:eu nu pot sa citesc gandurile altora.

Am simtit nevoia sa clarific lucrul acesta pentru ca,in ultima vreme,lumea traieste cu impresia ca eu posed un al unspelea simt de care nu sunt personal constienta.Apoi,urmand logica (?!?) acestei presupozitii,se supara pe mine cand nu fac nu stiu ce lucru de necesitatea caruia n-am fost informata.

PE BUNE?!?!

Eu inteleg ca par mai speciala,dar nici in halul asta.Una e sa ai o anumita doza de atentie in ceea ce priveste lumea inconjuratoare-mai mult sau mai putin,ma descurc in aria vizata.Dar sa vii sa-mi spui ca de ce n-am spalat catelul ca asa ai visat cu azi-noapte e cu totul alta problema,frate!Sincer.

Cred ca mi s-a extins reputatia la nivel spiritualo-senzorial si cei din jur simt ca fiind derizorie utilizarea unui vocabular explicit.Ca doar n-am destule sechele de genul "Adriana,da-mi!","Adriana,adu-mi!","Adriana,fa-mi!" din gimnaziu/liceu/facultate.

Da,dragostea mea pentru Star Trek se afla in expansiune ca Universul,insa eu m-am nascut pe Pamant,nu pe Vulcan.Asa ca sa lasam senzatia de telepatie recent dobandita deoparte.

Nu ma deranjeaza sa ajut,ba dimpotriva.Dar nu veniti la mine cu priviri dubioase ca eu sunt grea de cap si-mi mai sar si dracii dup-aia!

Cuvinte,oameni buni,cuvinte!Pe ele le inteleg!Si chiar nu ma supar de un ratacit "te rog" sau "multumesc".

In ritmul de fata,o sa ajung sa innebunesc de-adevaratelea.Cum altfel:lumea se comporta cum se comporta si tot eu exagerez!

Sunt calma,sunt calma...Ba nu sunt calma deloc si o sa-i bat la cap pe toti pana cand vor intelege ca eu functionez pe baza de vorbe si nu fantasmagorii.

Rugaciuni si sperante,copii.Rugaciuni multe si sperante oarbe.

P.S.Am primit astazi nisip de la mare sa-mi mai indulceasca amarul si mi-e tare drag de el.

Burning muscles

Early morning.Noisy beasts.Orange shorts.Indifferent stomach.Hazy eyes.Masked weariness.Rushed preparations.Stubborn cats.Green bag.Happy sun.Organic negotiations.Screaming spine.Funny cartoons.Alluring cantaloupe.Stalling laziness.Radio music.Incandescent food.Eerie silence.Dreaming forehead.Mountain of dishes.Jumping kittens.Content belly.Foreign story.Burning muscles.Routine fruit.Engulfing television.Eager mind.Dirty soles.Weird hours.Stuffy air.Hectic heart.Milky coffee.Sunken pillows.Sweaty sleep.Clammy mouth.Dizzy yard.Sweetest of sweets.Anxious countdown.Thirsty flowers.Soaked slippers.Imaginary song.Lovely sky.Candy cane horizon.Scented plans.Clumsy meal.Not so sleepy cats.Simmering twilight.Gorgeous music.Repetitive gestures.Late night talk.Hopeful soul.

Looking up

Singurul loc in care mai am incredere zilele acestea este cerul.

Ceea ce pare mai mult decat ironic,avand in vedere faptul ca tocmai acolo se pot petrece atatea dezastre de toate nuantele.Totusi,ce este deasupra este balsam pentru mine.

Reale sau imaginare,insignifiante sau catastrofale,de o clipa sau de o saptamana,problemele au puterea de a acapara si de a focusa punctul cel mai amar in detrimentul orizontului intregului.

Stiu ca devin prea paranoica si pun "prea mult suflet",dar eu sunt mai putin "eu" decat sunt "ceilalti",ceea ce presimt ca nu se va schimba prea curand.Asa ca ajung uneori cu inima cat un purice sub o gramada de intrebari fara raspuns si scenarii aproximativ apocaliptice.

Apoi ma uit in sus.

Doamne,cat de mici suntem!Cat de zapaciti!Cat de nebuni!

Nodul din gat de retrage si dispare undeva in neant.Asta e,asta e perspectiva de care aveam nevoie...

Daca ziua pot sa imi inec ochii in nori ireali ori paturi in grade felurite de albastru,noaptea se dovedeste a fi generoasa in negativ:cafeaua cosmica se varsa pe toata masa divina,lasand pe alocuri sclipiri de zahar indepartat sa patrunda privirea.

Speranta-cerul imi ofera speranta,incredere in ceva nedefinit,alternative sufletesti.

Atunci cand dau capul pe spate si primesc botezul vizual al Universului,lumea se opreste in loc si nimic nu mai doare.

Cerul a vazut totul,a simtit totul,a trait totul-si inca mai e acolo.O lectie mai buna de atat eu n-am gasit in nicio carte.

As vrea uneori sa fiu o pasare metalica,fie si numai pentru catva timp.Sa ma uit doar in fata,sa tai azur si carbune si vid sclipind a infinit.

Sa fug,sa fug,sa fug de pamantul de sub picioare care ma cheama mereu ca o sirena stacojie.Sa gasesc raspunsul inalt la intrebarea pusa fara incetare de talpi si de sol si de fantome.

Singurul loc in care mai am incredere zilele acestea este cerul.

Blue sunrise

Caldura,tantari,griji-prin urmare,inca o noapte obisnuita de vara.
Daca treci de un anumit prag al oboselii,realitatea capata alte nuante decat cele tangibile.
Da,napolitanele sunt mult mai dulci la 4:26 a.m.,pot sa atest asta.
Am vazut rasaritul din pat:albastru inchis,mat,fantastic.
O zi ca o ceata densa si somnoroasa.
Mi-e drag de cer ca de o promisiune frumoasa.
Nu mi s-a mai intamplat niciodata sa-mi cedeze picioarele sub mine si sa-mi fie somnul ca o betie intrerupta sistematic.
Cafea,cafea,cafea.
Parfum de mere coapte si dureri stacojii-o duminica ce dureaza cat o saptamana,se pare.
Imi place sa merg la cumparaturi doar daca rezultatul cuprinde si o sticla de vin alb.
Prietena draga,de cand nu te-am mai auzit!
Pat,pisicute,plictiseala de foc.
Se simte ca este casa goala.
Oasele scartaie nu foarte subtil si ma anunta ca ziua trebuie sigilata cat de curand.
Animalele galagioase sunt cele mai obositoare.
O masa pregatita de bunica e ca un balsam pentru suflet.
Mi s-a descarcat bateria emotionala.

Giddy like a kitten

Nu pot sa merg la mare-nu cu inima asta,nu cu starea asta ancorata de mine.
Ai mei sunt in febra impachetatului si pot sa jur ca am auzit-o pe mama propunand sa ma lege de picioare si sa ma bage in portbagaj sa merg cu ei.Stiu ca le pare rau ca nu sunt "fericita",dar unele lucruri au ajuns sa ma depaseasca emotional,in detrimentul unei fatade putin ciobite.
Mi-e dor,mi-e dor rau-de nisip,de valuri,de soare.Dar chiar nu pot.Mi-e sila de drumul infinit,de rutina,de aceleasi chipuri ce se schimba mereu.
O sa mor de grija lor,o simt deja,insa nici anul acesta nu ma lasa sufletul sa trec printr-un mini-Iad ca sa fur o firimitura de Eden.
Ma uit la pisoii cei mici si ii inteleg complet:vreau sa ies din cutiuta si sa explorez lumea din jur,desi picioarele imi sunt in aceeasi masura nerabdatoare si nesigure.
Doamne,ce nod am in gat...Urasc neputinta si intunericul.
Le raspundeam prietenilor la inceputul verii: daca as putea sa ma teleportez pentru 5 minute pe un mal la rasarit,as fi cea mai multumita din Univers.Dar nu se poate...deocamdata.
Presimt ca ma asteapta o noapte alba.

Morose twilight

Mintea mea este presetata in cele mai morbide nuante de previziune.

Fiecare detaliu insignifiant mi se pare un indiciu amar,iar asta nu e un mod sanatos de a exista.

Cum sa-ti modelezi singur cosmarurile?Cum sa-ti chemi tu insuti monstrii sub pat?Cum sa pictezi ziua de maine in noapte?

Ascund o furtuna sub chipul mult prea linistit.Buzele imi urla pe dinauntru pentru ca nu stiu,nu stiu nimic,nu stiu ce va aduce urmatorul moment...

Nesiguranta.Neputinta.Incertitudine.Toate ma macina si ma consuma,m-au acaparat pana la ultima celula.

E o nebunie urata ce se petrece in capul meu!

Vreau sa fiu un optimist incurabil,o vreau din toata inima,insa viata mi-a demonstrat de suficiente ori cum lucrurile pot lua o intorsatura urata atunci cand esti prea increzator in ceva.Si asta nu se uita...

Nici macar apusul nu ma mai linisteste,dat fiind ca ma aduce cu un pas mai aproape de necunoscut.

Mi-e dor de timpul cand eram copil si credeam in infinit.

Cursed sun

Angry bed.Steaming sheets.Tangled hair.Noisy skull.Ugly food.Bitter routine.Emerald fruit.Black happiness in a yellow mug.Useless hands.Stupid spine.Closed eyes.Sensuous music.Aching daydreams.Hazy heat.Dry tears.Clumsy future.Bloody mental tongue.Big sister chores.Greasy dishes.Wet feet.Mustard dahlia.Lost thoughts.Cursed sun.Cold walls.Disturbing tale.Little kittens.Cracking neck.Long hallway.Russian soap opera.Zealous fan.Splitting headache.Uninvited nap.Chewy mouth.Bleeding gums.Blinding light.Rescuing coffee.Mother's warm hand.Silly song.Meaningless pictures.Crushed pillow.Impersonal plans.Panting heart."Bad friend" status.Infamous literature.Choking air.Wasted summer.Sparkling black sky.Silent house.Sweaty thighs.Insistent mosquitoes.Lurking nightmares.Street noises.Very angry bed.