4/14/2014 (10:53pm) 1 note

When I find old poetry and I remember why I keep writing…


And when we make love I still feel

the reason why the tide fought against his chest,

the moment when he moaned out loud

that the sea was his.


10/25/2013 (6:26pm) 1 note

I wish I’d sail the darkest seas

We are junkies, and they cannot give us anything strong enough to make us change our minds. We are the ones that dwell in an ocean of pills, smack, sniffs, drinks that became our safe happy place. Their aim is to find the reason why we have decided to swim with our eyes closed and our backs to the sea. But they would never let us get the answer because it’s just too simple: We are the problem.

So hail to the dealer, and hail to the broken dreams of building a house, planting a tree, writing a novel and being successful. We are here, in this particular moment, and the future is a rope that is never tightened. The present is us, and the black surrounding when we close our eyes and we fall in the arms of something that will kill us in the end. But doesn’t it feel great?

We decide whether to live or die, and our choice, once again, has already been made.


10/23/2013 (6:29pm) 1 note

Another party, 1.

'This is absurd', I swallowed the last crisps' crumbs.

She shaked her head, up and down,

without a smile

she said ‘I know

the pathway to Heaven is not in that book, you see’

Just empty words for the full-of minds in his living-room.

I grabbed my achy belly and drank, staring at his hands

while he fingered the guitar, teasing.


10/20/2013 (2:12pm) 1 note


You stooped and I conquered

The folds of my body, the beginnings

And ends,

The unmade tucks of my bed,

steam of my breath, mixed with

the sour smell in your mouth

as you invaded my snug position,

half-naked, intruding

upon my bodily warmth.

You dozed and I slept

Falling slowly into place,

Your arms, limbs without a purpose,

Enclosed me like a cocoon

That would never be finished.

We dreamt of separate places,

Of separate people;

We dreamt of a common moment,

of a here and now. For a second,

We dreamt of us.


7/20/2013 (4:53pm) 1 note

Reading poetry

I had to open the window,

The smell of gas exuding from the pages,

with its dead still speaking of their anger;

I had to get away, to breathe

The air that inundates the household,

Slipping in, like drops from a hole in a bucket.

Fresh air that fills up my lungs

With hope, with the non-anxious promise

Of here and now.


6/14/2013 (12:39am) 1 note


I swallow

the nausea I felt when i read you,

the facebook status of great fun times,

the profiles of new romances, the success

in all fields I found my failure.

You seem to have forgotten

my rants, the indecisive way

in which I bite my hair, waiting,

looking at the screen where blue screens

foresee the dawn of my fever.


5/21/2013 (10:48pm) 1 note


I belong to places where no-ones knows anyone,

the familiarity of unknown faces

surrounding enlightened corridors.

I live for the cold kisses of young men,

the slackness of sluggish lips with too much

tongue. Drunk steps that lead to falling,

encumbered by an expression of triumph. I can but I won´t,

I say, vague. Undecisive, I admit to be

cryptic and scared.

I may follow the lead and stay

the night with new bedclothes that I have

already dreamt of.


8/29/2012 (7:08pm) 1 note

Doctor’s note

You may not understand the language of bare walls,

the closed doors from inside,

the way they open the closest trunk with a trick of the wrist.

You may not understand the long hours we spent motionless,

the blue couches embracing our waiting for news,

how we stood the standstill of walked down corridors.

How we watched the World closing in,

 as we queued in front of the children’s sitting room

Where a big-eyed family listened to medicated stories.

We waited to be named in pharmacy words, one by one,

While discussing our victimless crimes.

I swallowed and became weightful, with the last flap of wings,

and fell slowly

like a wounded grouse, cackling my silent way down.

I lied still on the laminated floor and they typed up another scrap of paper

for you to read.

It simply says I’m alright, that I’ll just limp a little.



6/16/2012 (7:38pm)

He was right.

He was right, you see,

he said the world is prettier to look from up above.

I keep staring in the distance, without any interest.

It remains motionless, speechless

behind this cold, high window.

The world has begun and will end with me;

It will stop, the traffic,

it will stop, one day, it will pronounce

its farewell,

as the world is me;

and the world will die when I die with it.


6/14/2012 (7:21pm)

On the Metro

How could I have forgotten the fight of the metro seat?

How could I relax when leaving my place?

The long incandescent faces grew sour and their vulture eyes flew,

with no leap from the floor.

The severity of their pouting beaks

signalled the plausible possibility of a journey

without a seat where to sit their ungrateful ass.