nineteen days

cracked lips.
a faint flicker of shine
leaking through the webs of my mind.

blatant and tempting
like frivolous passion under clouded
stars and puntured moons
where there is no space for me
to breath.

curved in.
warm and safe
a body, an artwork
eyes of daylight and
lips of a religion i conjured from my

they are strange words
but familiar to a dream long forgotten

a beautiful dejavu.

cracked in.
curved lips.


3 lines

I try to say things
but it is difficult when you are
colliding with emotions that confuse.

a dream that loved me

the waking dream that found the glitter
in my eyes and kissed the tangles of
alcohol staining the roots of my hair
the dream that planted a mark on my body
like a white flower in a garden of green.

fluttering above me like a halo
leaving tingles on my neck and
whispers on my ears, a hot breath that never fades
it was a dream that taught me passion
and grew on the tip of my lips
as it kissed me under the rain
and told me to stand for who i am.

fresh air;
an escape from the nightmares i lived,
a hand that found my sensitivity
and caressed my weakness, telling me
a biggest secret,
feeding me strength and leaving sweet
aftertastes in the center
of my body
warm and whole

a dream i will wake up from
and smile at the memories
when they revisit
every once in a while.

alone in a square box

my breathing is loud,
a condition one would relate to

i name it a condition because
it arrives unwanted
and i hate people i truly love;
uncalled for,
like accidents in the middle of the night.

i like to talk to myself, as if
i am
the rest of the world,
regretting my good intentions
that led to the loss
of control and fear
of tasting solitude

- though i spend many conscious nights
i sense myself
coming back to
.and the blindlights hitting me as i stand up too quickly
is beautiful.

there are those who make things better
yet they are them
that make things worse
all the same.

i forget the meaning
of letting myself feel

everything is around me
i feel heavy
standing by myself.

the first

raw skin underwater.

a pain that reflects
momentary scrapes of hurt that
paints my picture
spells my life
until it fades.

escaping my fingertips,
it is a second of
letting strength escape me
and the past foil me

but i am done with facing
the same page of my
clustered, depressed thoughts.

i am ready to take one step away
from carnage
and leave the burn that once
scarred decay on me.

will you trace my steps
and lead me through
my holocaust?

will i drown?

i speak to nobody
and somebody replies.


my first cold blink of bare truth
when everything fell into reality
took place in the air
where clouds beneath me
gave way
and sent me headfirst
towards gravity.

this is the part when
you lose your right to dream.

every wash of hard, icy life
drowned me in a pitfall of dull
colours that never seemed
to fade,
the hideous artwork of my mind.

i am like the sky
churning towards dark
swallowed in behind the grey
taints blanking out
the rainbows and
taste like afterlife.

the rain is singing
a beautiful pain i can understand.

one a day

it is only because
the whole world goes still
and i can hear my thoughts
slither into place and
feel at ease
just for a while,

watching my breath form
unspoken words
soaring into the sky
until the last of the ashes
explode on the surface of reality
and create heavy, uneasy sounds
of my mind

waking up.