Dusted willow songs
Like elderberry resting in the creases of my lips.
The air in my lungs isn't where it belongs,
It's swirling hellishly around heartbeats.
Jarring how this flora rekindles
My mind at night.
Terrifying how my dependency fires
Rue on and **** on sight.
Gravediggers bury my limbs back into your hair for me to feel,
Real.
This touch like baby's-breath, lingers
And stains.
Oh how I know ill never get it off,
Never wash away the rupture of the sound
Of your voice-I'm jealous of the walls in your house, how they must bathe in joy when you speak.
What they must hear I envy every creak.
I am calm I refuse to drown in this fog
I want to breathe in for once, alive.
Difuse this morning reborn by night
Ground down this head of mine, whimper like a dog...
To time eating me raw, snapping at my ankles, rummaging through all,
Let it last longer
Let it never fall.

promised I'll get drunk
settled for getting distracted.
sunk down the floor,wanted the alcohol minus the vomiting.
but eyes shine around me so I become less
vigilant...more  human...
a cure for broken shoulders.
your mouth smells like home I'm feeling better.
bickering in and out of the odour of cracked mandarin peels and ***** shots poured in drunken fever.
impersonate each other see who ***** up better,
put a *** out for the table
hide it from the lover.
just some hiccups to get over.
go outside-skin bare
check the pebbled floor make sure you don't trip and bury yourself there,
gotta flip the pack, take out the vanilla cigarrete,
one for you, then for me.
you'll finish in one minute, I'll finish in thirty...
seconds-until I melt on this chair cuz I remembered I was left alone on my birthday and there was no pack of 'friends' to throw me in the air.
so sudden though I'm sure it'll evaporate.
open the fridge, grab a cube of ice, smash it with my molars hoping it'll get me back to:
dancing minimally and laughing more then I should be,
indulging in things I otherwise,wouldn't be doing ,
letting the me from tommorow handle present me fooling.
eyes have been wider now they simmer at the surface only for your hand to rest on my leg,
like a dog,
like a frozen sociopath.
laugh again, crack a joke for the years I won't get back.
I touch,reveriee,then hollow out
so many thoughts I'm fighting the urge to lack sense and halt myself,into some other place.
hell perhaps,bed most certainly.
fun doesn't last much when lonely but it lasted enough for me.
I loved it.
I'll go to sleep.
whiskey antiseptic I'm coating my teeth with anything but it,wishing it would take me to the morning

A nail
Has been beaten back into the floor
So I no longer step on it,
When I enter the room,
When i finished my shower
When I just want to stand.
This nail was snow on bare skin
Woke me up every time I stepped on it.
Last night mami terrorised me.
Talking about daddy cheating and her losing my sister if he divorces.
Went to a **** interview for an even shitier job.
Said she'd work from 9 to 4 in the morning and it's the perfect opportunity to get back working,
Packing shippings while standing while she has an engineering degree.
She's funny lately.
I tell her I don't really wanna come home today and she says the same.
Insists on sleeping next to me and asking if I hear the sound of my tears hitting the pillow as if it's ghost.
Lover on the other hand says I'm making it hard for her
"I just feel like by getting close I m pushing you away"
So I will dissappear.
Been saying it for years.
When I was little I dreamed of 18 being brighter than ever.
It was futile like all my hopes as a toddler.
Cursed lips of spoken valor.
6 hours, 6 hours, 6 hours that's how much I'll stay in school today.
Hope I come back to a home emptier than before.
Hope it's just a dream and I'll wake up in May.
Or July.
Or never I don't really have preferences anymore.

_
De mi-ai dezpletii coastele.
S-au încâlcit și mi-au luat tot aerul cu ele.
Ți-aș recita idile
Mai calde ca  visele mele.
Mă strâng oasele.
Eu ard și ele țin scrumul în mine.
Ce deranj al magiei,
Îmi tresar nervii și arterele *** le convine.
Ce sunt eu pentru tine?
O fericire trecătoare, o intrigă complexă, o altă gură nepăsătoare.
Aş cere mult prea mare oroare,
Timpul tău pentru guri temporare
Viața ta pentru o întâmplare.
Ochii tăi păstrați în a mea chemare.
Ți-am spus fără corp și fără teamă că ești violoncel
În vise ți-aș vorbii astfel, fără remușcare.
Iar câinele din mine se scutură de ură
M-aș arunca în iad să văd un alt zâmbet
O altă sclipire mai pură, un alt miracol corpolent.
Aş vrea să-mi vezi ființa necoruptă
Să-ți arăt că real am respirat și eu.
Dar condiția blestemată
Îmi ştirbeşte plămânii de aer, îmi face moartea țelul.
Eu.
Eu nu aș știi *** să te iubesc.

I woke up I thought
I woke up I thought it was summer
The foil veiling my window making me think the sun's brighter.
What a ******!
A few hours later I go downstairs in the kitchen, fooled that to be rid of anxienty all I have to do is work harder.
And I did up until my mother,
Made my shoulders shudder
Only if the silence lasted a little longer.
It didn't so I tell her about a friend that's been way too friendly  and how I have other priorities.
A girl maybe, I told her, now, she's about to ruin it.
She breathes in: so heavy, one hand next to the stove and one by her hip she tells me.
"stop and take a look at yourself"
Talks to me about the risk of showing myself to such a girl,
Asks if I'd want the aftermath on my conscience forever.
"Ignore her" , she whispers, "let's talk about you!"
"You find people you think are interesting,then dissect them to their last molecule, get what you need, then leave them - desolated, confused, searching for anyone to replace you."
She said I damage them so good they'll never not see me in the people they're searching," no-one will ever be you again"
She backtracks-"don't target this girl, you know what you do, don't be selfish and give her hollow promises."
Cruel of me to want to feel something, cruel of me to want to nurture my loveless mind after years of starving.
Not my right she says, to waste people's time, "you're killing".
I'm shaking but I'm loving it she tells me exactly what I've been dreaming!
That I'm a sociopath, the most attractive sin.
She scoffs and says she'll try to be to my understanding, and slips into some analogy
" unlike others nowadays - pretty cover books with nothing inside, you're a hybrid, you're a blank cover-- let others color it, make them think they have a choice and validity before they start reading."
Accaparating, dense, manipulator, heart-eating.
I hope she's proud of me
I hope my paternal lack of empathy is showing
I hope it's obvious that my talents are natural, hereditary
There are very few instances when it's not them I'm blaming.
But I halt to a stop and ponder what is it that I'm craving,
Because whatever it is, I always aquire then never use it.
My mother sings about my graciously selfish bendings.
I thought the impression of the sun glowing in the final moments of November was a sign for better,
A sign that I will no longer
Live in phases, forget myself along the linings, writhe away like warmth amongst the wind.
So many words have been said, I no longer know if it is me that is living.

Peridot
That's what I'll call you,
The wind lifting the leaves and carrying them on through time .
Gentle.
That's what I'll call you.
Soft spoken yet you sound like a cello,
Im holding onto
Peridot shards in your eyes splinting my thinking.
I brushed my teeth today so sickly,
Coated my teeth in stomach acid,
At the thought of being overbearing and you denying it.
Peridot smirks but peridot muses.
Peridot forgives me for being so ruthless.
What have I got to give to you?
Nothing but a placeholder in time,
Nothing but a spot in universal memory.
You'd live forever in words but it's no more than a pretentious fad.
I lack substance and my mom told me to stifle
And not to give eronate hopes to fictional lovers because I'm instable
"Don't let yourself love and rage when you leave 6 months later"
Peridot you're real
At least I hope you are.
As real as a breath of spring
As real as the glimmering of rivers,
As real as I'd imagine you to be.

I noticed
a girl with scissor earrings on the bus,
What an amusing tiny anecdote ha!
Two more in different intervals reading in their seats...
(lucky bastarrds who get to seat and to read in these hellish buses)
I digress, one was reading Osho and the other a book called "The relic".
I stare,
that's what I do.
Always.
Stare and laugh then wait for reactions.
Lately the amount of green eyes around me have made me unfaithful to the 2% promise.
Also every crystal blue has been painful.
-please don't watch me unless your gaze is lighter than mine-
There's delight to this dull compression.
We leave crying,
we come back jubilant in sorrow.
What generational wander!
I've been staring and deafening myself to the attentions of others,
Thinking every word addressed may as well be a deathwish.
Give up, you don't want to argue with me...at least not today.
I promised myself a 9 blossomed on my skin, as if mold has inherently carved itself into me.
I'm keeping myself awake for that promise now.
Once it's over I'll promise myself some other futile dream.
Life has been...tame.

how may I ever not
sanctify the blood of
woman when it is
the purest form of jubilation
it is life
it is death
it is the catharsis of
crackling generations
of
trillions of souls
so how may I not
sanctify what is most
holy...
what is most splendid
in creation
the blood of woman
moon untainted
ethereal and wild
the blood of woman
may rule on
from the Earth's core
like it did
before.

i laugh
at all the poets they made us learn about in school
then go home...
and become one myself

I
to draw blood
and
let me sing
hollow words
of a
hollow body

II
to reek of havoc
and stain with chaos
I wish your hands
-liquid silver,
would melt and
burn off
my nerves
as you
caress my head

III
silently
all in the flutter
of a moth's wings.
picture me
reincarnated
through your touch
musing & murmuring
this

IV
fragile mind
this
restless time

My swollen lip
I bit it when I was freezing.
That one rib throbbing from underneath me
Yours are moving graciously,
Creasing the skin between the bowed up package of 24-
Ribs wrapped in my clothes since it was hot enough to make summer in my room in this almost November.
I sigh.
Naturally we talk about whatever you'd like to hear from me.
Nothing too personal of course but I'm listening.
*** and boys and *** and boys and the ****** of falling in love with feminine energy.
So innocent is the love of woman I bet we're synching.
I stare at your nose as I blabber about a rethorical woman I'd be afraid to eat out in case I won't satisfy her.
You gleam in confidence discoursing me about it.
The words of woman, the touch of enchantress.
I give up on continuing, ending in something about my self hatred instead of *****.
The earth tremors know I ache to be loved and to love it.
I told you too.
It isn't me, but anonimity that's keeping me so neutral but frantically ******.
"you're so interesting..."
Thanks let's talk about clitoral ******* and prostate training, while I cry about not intending.
While I long to be dreamed about and lusted over.
While I remain bold in my silence.
What a skill to be given.
I bit my lip when it was freezing,
At the thought of ******* some sense into me.

°
A shard of a body
That's what I was at 8
I remember knowing I was watched.
Never when I smiled, only when I endured.
Acid words, their silver impact
Midas made gold, so my skin must've shimmered.
A remnant of soul,
Waiting for twilight so I can crawl
Within myself and rest for the night.
From 7 to 9 I used to beg for love,
That's why I have so much pride today.
Infancy meant smothering the floor with my ****** knees and begging,
Pleading like a fly to a swatter, to be saved, to be forgiven.
I used to think to- myself "mercy is so hard to work for".
At 10 I took to nightly silence,
A knock at the door meant a visit and five meant I was the outsider.
Waiting for the neighbours to glance at each other while I was counting roaches, dead on the stairs.
A scrap of mind,
When I still thought god loved me, I used to pray,
To be taken and never given away.
To be given my knees back in exchange for me.
I used to ask to be given mind if death wasn't ready to take so young.
But church was empty and I was never accompanied just held by the hand.
A shard of body, a remnant of soul, a scrap of mind
I'd tell the child we've been dead and we're now gods.
She'd believe me,
She'd believe anything.
I should've killed you, child.
It would've been faster, a respectful execution.
I love you child.
Tonight you may be worth only one tear
But you have cried enough for me.

*** s-au dus iar zile peste mine și eu le-am vândut pe nimic sperând la libertate și n-am primit nici măcar dreptul de a dormi.
*** m-au călcat orele în picioare râzând de visele mele anticipative.
M-am săturat de zile și nopți placebo
De batjocura lumii când vreau doar să râd.
M-am săturat de semi-singuratate,
Și de fiecare gând.
M-am saturat de tine,
Tu cel din oglindă, că plângi doar când nu ți se cuvine și râzi fără inimă.
Sper să nu-ți mai plângi sănătatea că nu are să se întoarcă,
Căci camera ți-e goală și tu tot aici ai rămas,
Tu râs fără spațiu de ecou
Raza de soare în crepuscul,
Nu-ți mai număra zile pentru un erou,
Și șterge-ți rujul.
M-am săturat de tine,
Tu cel din oglindă, căci tu nu vei fi eu vreodată iar eu nu voi fi tu.
Așa că refuzând să plâng, iubire, îți aștept sfârșitul.
Murdar om mai ești,
Păcătos din natură.
Sper să nu mai grăiești, sper să te arzi cu propria-ți ură.

While I wait for the water to get warm
I'll write you a verse.
About how love's like a door,
That most definetly should stay closed.
How love is being alive
But how it won't forget.
Come to think of it, maybe love's disguised,
And it's actually death.
How I'm 17500 mosquitos,
And you're all the blood we'd ever dream of
And I'd drink you up until I explode.
How love's a distraction,
And though I haven't met anyone after her,
I'm afraid love might lead to self-destruction.
Like the dead roses in this cola bottle,
Like my lashes batting to avoid another battle
Like how the people leave and let their wind-chimes rattle
Forever.
What's love but irrational?
What's love but conventional?
I'm made to be obsessed with it, why not just take it all?
Mind and body might never slow down.
What's love when you write about two and you're only one?

At 23:28
Is the last bus running
I feel the cold around me,
But Ive no time to hate.
The weather is splendid,
The streets flooded,
The bass booming,
The rain pouring,
I'm dumbfounded.
Why did I leave the concert so early?
I'm paranoid, I'm going.
Taking the bus hoping it'll take me home
And if it doesn't I'll walk I've no shame of my own.
I did walk at the end anyway,
Ankle deep in water while others were hiding
I'd call myself stupid if it wasn't so extraordinary,
Drenched to the bone, the rain so hereditary.
I was singing along then I was running.
Home if I find it, alone while the wind is blowing.
It was the prime act and for the first time I wasn't playing,
The antagonist,
The villain,
The hated,
The worst,
The ghost.
I was simply alive.
The water in my hair,
The razor sharp wind on my cold skin,
My ciggaretes destroyed and drowning in my pocket.
There was nothing that could stop me,
From finally living.

I should move to a brand new city
And teach myself how to die.
Just like Mistki sang
I'm here again.
I've been so many people in so many places I'm tired to ressurect.
The motion and the stumbles
Have gotten me tired.
And now I sit in bed or in the backyard.
Listening to my head or my mom mar.
Me, no-one else.
Telling me how she'll let me know what you can sense,
From your first sniff.
A toothpick and a q-tip and she burns it.
Brings it close to my nostril and tells me to snort it.
And oh is it hurting.
My ear my brain my sinuses begging.
She says ******* is 5 times the feeling
And Im so concerned, I only half confessed to **** why is she showing this to me?
Ah it's another trap I see.
I ask where did she get it?
How would you know mommy?
Have you done it?
Tell me I'll keep it a secret I promise.
"no"
I've had friends die from it.
Oh it's that type of trap, it was anticipative.
Another warning turned life story
Another life story incomplete because I'm not deserving.
Another life another city.
She does it to me, and I become it.
This poem was supposed to be about dissapearing not my lineage.
Now it's both.
A declaration that I won't continue it.
I promise.

I know you're sitting on that chair
So distinguished
Say my body doesn't belong to me.
So famished.
So i hide and sleep my hallucinations away,
Wake and drink my tea like the English men
Smash my knuckles on the furniture to retaliate hell.
Sing to the wooden panels to feel like they care.
Click my pupils into place wishing I'd never use them.
I am curious in my manner of living by simply choosing not to and observing.
I keep on sipping
I keep on inviting,
Never throwing out.
Peculiar to complain about being full of thought,
I guess it's really the time to declutter and make room for heart,
To break, to rummage, to ache.
Make a spectacle out of myself
Bury myself in lust, envy and ***.
To never ask again to only listen to how souls beg.
To be a feminine classic
A delinquent movie where all I can do is dancing and drinking.
My dreams have become masochistic.
I'm tired of being existence so cystic
I used to be benign look where that got me.
Foul mouth, living so parasitic.
I never wanna see my mother, my father, my neighbours, my friends, myself ever again.
Just dissipate
Just titrate
Into dew
Into Rust.
Try to co-exist with dust

Sometimes i stand up and I'm taller than I should be
In the middle of the night, on the wooden floor I feel eyes above me.
I walk around, just a few steps to balance out my shoulders
And when I'm back in the room I'm back to normal.
Sometimes I look at my hands and forget that they're my own.
Sometimes I wake up from nightmares and go back to sleep to test if I still end up there.
Sometimes I step in the shower and forget how to breathe.
Sometimes I drink water and let it pool in my mouth not knowing if I should really swallow it.
To be so alone you start question if you're within yourself.
Am I keeping me good company?
My shoulders and their blades
My hips and their flames
How much is there left of me?

I fantasise about being stapled to the walls of every house I've ever been in
To be glorified iconography
So Jesus crucified could never compare to me.
But I digress and ignore my fantasy
Dig deeper in my denied anxieties
Or at least that how I've been feeling
Taught to believe what my father always told me
"Qui ante dolem plus dolem" scarring my skin.
Reads as follows straight to the core:
"Who suffers before will suffer a lot more"
You see I think that to some I've been just a blur while to others I've been pure life.
I think I'm just a field study for my paternal figure
Too much of a cynical creature too little to inspire.
He thinks he can cheat life by cheating himself but it's all dire
Amy Winehouse knows best she even sang about cheating herself, it's nothing but piling lies onto the fire.
So my father smiles and says I search for disaster, search for situations, imagine doom charging at me faster and faster and faster...
But I interrupt him, I'm rational.
I go in with low expectation so if it turns out for the best I can truly enjoy the consolation and if it turns to be the way I imagined it I can lavish in the universe's approbation.
I say I despise his way of living,
He asks what is there to hate in it.
And i am baffled and injurious behaviour is sparking,
Staggering, stuttering I simply ask how is that he can live so falsely happy so easily, how is it not torturous for further developing.
He says nothing is false, it's all hoping, it's ignoring stress, it's living authentically.
And I think to myself dissapointedly
If only
I was bolted in these walls and didn't have to live, judge or decide.
Just watching cemented in time.

I notice the masked unknown
The year stained disturbances
Some kind of effect I wouldn't know how to call
Guess it's the charms of overly-consumed marriages.
It's the bitter reproaches
And the lowly messages.
It's the awkwardness with which my dad over-explains himself
For simple occurances
Misread instances
I'm sick oh hearing it.
My mother flaunting her insecurities
She capitalises her hold over me.
I'm a trophy, I'm a trophy.
The way the both stare gleefully.
I embody the price to modify genetically
Anger, regret, hate all take corporality.
I'm beaming
The lack of romance I grew up in and my obsession with it developing.
I'm revealing disconnected personalities.
My mother and father might take pride in it,
My bluntness, my unjustified humanity
But sometimes all I see in me
Is family gesturing,
Just mere mimicking.
A real life harlequin.

I miss the Istanbul mists
And Bucharests's dissapointments
I watch the street's misfits,
And measure their arrogances.
****, I'm salivating...
For these sporadic romances.
You see it's raining now and I don't expect abeyances.
Wish the rain would sing me back into sleeping.
Greecian exhalation
And American expectation
I'm living in a fragment.
Illegal teleportation
My withdrawals have become desperation,
No more time to lament.
The scent of international alienation
It aches and it digs
The immortal veneration
Of all these useless schemes.
I exert into mindless illusions
And pray to yield its fruits
But these are altiloquent pretentions
And real life seems so crude.
I become cosmical equation
A simple empyrean constellation
And continue breathing solely in my imagination.

Expect rain when the flies start to sting
So I start to think
About my mom and what she'll say when she sees me smoking
Probably dissapointed, probably failed
That's all I learned from her anyway.
She'll probably say.
"they were better back in my day"
"if you're gonna smoke at least smoke something better"
I've been eyeing her fancy menthols lately, and I'm no quitter.
She'll see my swollen eyes and swallow in a way, so bitter.
I know, I've seen it before, I guess she'll know too, sooner or later.
That I'm just like her and my father.
Glinting failure, so unknowingly human.
I know I've promised many things,
The first was that I'll never smoke, then again, then buy a pack, then care.
But at least they were right about one thing in there.
Never say never, it'll follow you to your grave , there's no point now to dispear,
I'm hungry for more why should I care?
Young and dying alone, what a story to tell!

My mommy saw death today again,
She sat on the stairs, ciggarete in hand and spewed away,
How her mornings were **** and her cigs don't really hit today.
So I knew it was serious and put on my concerned face, the one she only loves anyway, and I told her not to dismay.
And as I pick at my skin and other ***** insufferences I listen as her voice forces, a sadness as to alarm me this may be concerning.
She says that on her way to work this morning she saw a little old lady in a crane,
This little old lady tripped on straight surface, hit her head so hard, a haematoma bloomed in her brain.
And mom blows the smoke again.
"I heard the sound and the pain in my leg did not matter" she said. "I ran so fast, I was so worried that little old lady cannot die on me".
So she ran and the woman was bleeding, "her mask so ****** she could've choked" as she confirmed, "many passed by as I was trying to lift this lady but none bothered to care"
She said that at once a biker dropped his bike and jumped in to help as they called the ambulance in despair.
Mommy said she asked the lady her name, age and a kid she could contact.
Little old lady was 83 and remembered her boy's number fully.
And so my mommy calls to tell him that his mom's at the emergency and he picked up and said:
"Has a car hit her yet? "

și noi vorbim vorbim
de azi până mâine
râdem murim,
cu sau fără companie.
dar noi vorbim.
iar când dormim
atmosfera miroase  a mine și tine.
și cu toate dezamăgirile,
golim rapid iubirile
și ne regăsim pretutindeni.
tot vorbim,vorbim
la nesfârșit, cât de teluric
visele ce le primim
cu sau fără merit
ne șoptesc șovăielnic
că nu vor să-mi achit
ura pentru tine.

medusa can you feel me?
i've become hard of hearing.
medusa can you see me?
or are the slithers interfeering?
medusa i can feel you staring
why is counciousness abandoning me?
daring yet consoling,
this cigarette that i'm holding.
one more hit and im running
one more hit, i'll be glowing.
the fog in my head, medusa , is nothing but healing,
bet you all my ancestors are proud, ever so loving
surprinsed at the vices i'm honing.
medusa our turn always comes, you don't have to worry
we are sentenced allegory
condensed spring scented fury.
medusa spit on me.
i am anything but awake,
anything but aware
kiss my dreams away

You know taking a bath when you're cold is bad for you yet you still do it.
The cold will catch up to you once you're out.
Unless you boil yourself to the point where you can't stand the bath water and the cold is all you crave.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know this anger harbouring will get you sick and at some point something will have to break.
Yet you deny it and cry in surprise once you realise how ****** up your mind can get.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know that you not functioning without your headphones on the street is a mental deficit and you're scared of being alone.
Yet whenever you say you'll go out without your headphones you can't help but connect them again to your phone.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know the silencing glare and the subtly swallowed hate wont be enough to fix them or you yet you take no action and only speak when the times are worst causing everything to crack up again in your dysfunctional household.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
No amount of self diagnosis with narcissism, psychosis, psychopathy or plain depression will ever soothe your need of validation. So why bother.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your body's stiff, you know the causes.
Yet you try to dance, sing move as much as you can. Idiotic sensual slow killing.
You know you're only making it worse so why keep on hurting?
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your blood vessels bursting under your jeans, your veins dying to pop.
Yet you still walk. There's something not quite right with you.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar
Your ribs cracking under the spring sun, your toes bleeding from that last run when will you understand you're marked for death when will you be done?
Liar liat liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You promised you'll shave your arms, start up another life yet you're still here.
******* around.
You're nothing but a
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.

oh how you believe,
that the imbecility surrounding will dissipate,
that all that is unjust you can eradicate.
foolishly hoping and dreaming for a day,
when the unjust will finally be fair.
how you cant take in the real,
maybe that's why i feel so non-existent,
i have been too aware for my own good.
.
trebuie înghițită ideea de a trăi în imbecilitatea mediului,
de a-ți păstra șirul gândurilor într-o lume plină de jeg.
visez la nopți în cluburi goale de sub pat
gol și anost
sufăr cu strălucire.

Displace
Misplace
Replace
Me.
With another.
Or perhaps something entirely different.
Don't you get tired of yourself?
The scabs on my knees and elbows crack at the feeling of despair.
They bleed out red and green thread, love and envy for the undead.
This is just an escape,
Another rusting coping mechanism thrown out to the pile.
Don't you ever get tired of yourself?
The routinical sequences living inside my head would agree,
She's exhausted
She's tired of me.

i am so exhausted
of the cotidian
the daily
the unorthodox.
i want to be afloat,
no more of this suspended waiting
no more of this nonsense.
i want silence, not bliss,
i want not the love but a mere kiss,
a breath of air inspired into my throat warmly.
i want too much already...
a little more sleep
a little more warmth
PATIENCE
or,  maybe
death.