Friday, 28 December 2018

She had death in her eyes, as she was staring at death's face. 
Window of the soul, all say.
If I fall, there won't be another; if I clench my fist, no one will bother.
I was in vertigo three days in a row and I perished, it managed to finally decide to take me. 
The shadows were no more, the struggle was over. 
No tears were shed, she, death and I, were glad.

Wednesday, 26 December 2018

By the sounds of Juniper Arms

I am five thousand years old and maybe that's why they think I can't die.
They throw rocks at me, break my branches, even when I'm just twigs I still hang on.
I appear in more than one shape, I am short and robust, or tall and determined, or even spread wide.
I am of Christmas or of the desert, I am from the garden or the field.
They bend me and break me but I'm still here. Still.
Maybe I just want to fall asleep forever.
Maybe in those arms where once I thought it was home.

"Trees do not live forever. They do age and eventually die. Some live much longer than others though, and it turns out that some of the longest living trees survive best in the more extreme climates and situations." 

Thursday, 20 December 2018

The best songs always stay, also because they have more than the story told in the lyrics, they have a story of a part of our lives too.

Wednesday, 19 December 2018

Glad only to meet people without borders in their hearts, open up to the world and willing to make others their priority, because the only thing you take out of this world isn't you, it's the love and help that you give to others. As long as there are good people one can remain to fight for the goodness and love in this world.

Monday, 17 December 2018

I do not own any houses, but there are many lost friends' arms out there that once felt like home.
Today is your birthday. Old tales tell that you were my first best friend. I could never show you how deep is my love for you. Only if I could rip my heart out for you to see how the mere sight of you makes it completely full.

(alt. 1st version: "... see how you occupy all of it.")

Friday, 14 December 2018

What if you're gone of this world?
No one loved me like you did. No one was me, melted in silence, bathing in the same dark waters. No other love, no other pain, no other emptiness.
What if you're not on this Earth anymore? You went away and didn't take me, didn't say goodbye, forgot that you couldn't die. All your promises to me were broken. Your love was the most whole thing I ever felt. To be the same, one together, only one in this world. And now no more, Lenore.
No one ever had the urge that you had to see me, to be with me, like we were each other's blood and mind and soul.
It's been 20 years since we connected for the first time and I feel that though you are always inside with me, you are no longer there alive.
Sleep tight, my darkest angel, goodnight.

Wednesday, 12 December 2018

We're all in the death row...
only some of us didn't commit any crime.
(like stillborns... We are all conceived by the original sin...?)
Dragged from the mother's womb,
fallen from the father's piggyback,
the world filled him up with this rage
that eventually will make him undone.

 Who are you when no one is looking? You've had a lot of love made of flesh and forgot to strengthen the bone, now in the sum of your life you see your reflection in the mirror and it's just a self-portrait of sad and alone. 
Old man, turned 98, you didn't win the lottery neither died the next day.

Thursday, 6 December 2018

Can you grab the mist and shape it with your hollowed hands?
Can you ever really mend a broken a heart?
I don't need to wake up tomorrow.
I've got nowhere to go.
I haven't got someone expecting me.
There's no one depending on me.
No one misses me terribly.
My voice isn't someone's favorite sound.

Can you really mend a broken heart
that is always being broken again and again
by the hands of indifference and abandonment?

I had nothing to do. Only what others expected me to.
Society decided for me way long before I was born.
I didn't grab the mist, turns out my hands where always hollow. 

Monday, 3 December 2018

 You forgot how in only one dawn of our whole lives we saw each other, and told and did not tell everything there was to know of our beings. No mysteries were left but mystery itself. You forgot how you had never seen me before and yet you sheltered me from the ruthless cold of the urban jungle of terrors' icy night. Your in-building home and another rescued animal. From a naked street bench to a fluffy nest bench created by you for me. So much generous tenderness you gave to us rescued, it almost made our abandonments distant. You forgot how you presented me the biggest gift in that year, a couple of years back, the song of thousands of synchronized swallows in the bright lighting emerging free, Aurora, because if there's one thing that can creep into you is dawn, but not then, for then was the crystal dawn.