Blissful ignorance,
Dance baby dance.
Beat the pulse and lose your breath.
Wrapping my legs around native strangers.
Live it, feel it but never ever believe it.
Cristal rivers poured over my *******.
Lick it off, intoxicating truths confess.
Baoli wants all of you,
***, drugs and emptied pockets.
Pay those ghosts away in magnum bottles.
We've earned every laugh,
performed on every lonely road.
Save me no tomorrows,
tonight is all there is.
My heart is a caged blackbird,
contained in a bottle of Belver Bear.
Rohypnotic depletion of the mind,
a sleep that never dreams.
Shake awake with electronic groove.
No dark knight around to haunt me.
No maker of hope that lies.
Just a soul constrained in puppet moves.
I'm gonna do all that's bad,
To make everything back to good...

It's finally spring my love.
The false promise of renewal,
hope and dreams
that survived the stark of winter war.
And once again like a zillion times before,
my mind lingers on you - my bedraggled knight.
Still reminiscing the insincere
but oh so seductive cooing
of your words whispered in desperate passion.
But every time the timbre
of that poetic song dig into
the marrow of my withering bones,
the ruthless but absolutely honest voice of it all
- my taunting, yet ever loyal sidekick - distrust
kicks back and tell me
in the clearest chime of unwedding bells,
that it was never real.
No love for real,
how hard I wanted to believe.
Believe
my heart's quest always.
Pounded down by the utmost power of knowing.
Taking down shimmering gates of roses
and mashing them all into
a weeping horrified pile of compost.
Where no new flowers will ever grow.
Fodder for black snails and spiders
to feast upon, in eager anticipation
to reach deep down, to devour
the terrified, bleeding heart
that’s buried in its rubble.
And the iron armor
cladding my spiritual self
builds stronger every day.
Polished and unbuckled.
Continuously fortifying or imprisoning me.
I move in the world effortlessly,
not one soul seeing
the tons of heavy metal
that weighs down my skinless flesh.
Bedraggled knight,
who do not know
that he still hold my fortress - my heart.
And with just one wink of the white flag
would take it all down in a rumble of tears.

Lately,
my words have hit the trash can
rather than decorating
the wall of fame.
My mind is on a constant frown,
deeply obsessed with you.
I wanted your life to be perfect,
not flawed with worries
about tomorrow.
I wanted you to reach the height
of unlimited potential.
But lately, I’ve been the one
delaying your deliverance,
creating treason and misery.
Making you less
than you were before.
Lately...
...my words tainted your soul
with disappointment.
Unmade your dreams
and disrupted the prosperity
of your wants.
Young titan - no longer mine,
Letting you go,
unchaining your heart
making you soar...

Equates...
unsurmountable  measures of pain...
...and alcohol.

Diary confessions

She resides on the street outside my office,
from sleepy mornings to crowded nights.
Apparently we share the same working hours.
The hands of Norther has begun to claw
through coats and bones with greediness.
And I worry that she might catch the cold.
Her patient resilience and humble posture,
head bowed down, hand stretched out
constricts my heart in terrified recognition.
She looks like a queen dethroned.
Where was her kingdom before this street?
She seems ageless but infinitely ancient.

I wonder...

What’s it like to watch legs pass you by,
briskly stomping away in annoyance.
How dare she remind us about the flaws of life.
That we are less human than we admit
behind our busy faces and comfortable shoes.
What’s it like begging for plated coins,
when you’ve sacrificed everything
in a foreign country digging for gold?
Humiliation convolutes my heart
every time the ignorant titter of the young
and the turned away faces of the old
depreciate her existence.

Despite my fidgeting just minutes ago
I slowed down by the corner,
searching an answer in her fathomless eyes,
The story of sacrifice is clasped in her hands,
a framed picture of a boy and a girl.
The scribble on it says: ”Please help,
me and my children are starving.”
I knelt beside her,
shyly stroking her weathered hand
before placing the hot Chai by her side
and laying down my tribute in her paper cup.
Her hand held warmth,
when grasping mine, lifting it to her lips.
The kiss and gentle blessing startled me.

Rising to my feet again and heading back
to my comfortable office...
...it started to rain.

I'm off to save the world.
The only cure for someone
who don't know how to save herself.
Can the world thrive on saviours
Who are driven by demons?
I know nothing of self preservation
but my arms hold so much determination
that there should not be any question
about the outcome.
I'm off to save the world.
And I don't shed one drop of fear
about the price of salvation

Lace my bones with threads
that will not break.
Inhale the breath of faith
between my lips.
Hold eternity with feathers
never to restrain.
I’m still mourning the dying sun,
terrified he’ll never rise again.
And even when the blue death
of twilight takes my hand.
I still turn around
to catch a glimpse of the light
that died.

Panic attack

It doesn't matter
how many infatuated knights
I've brought to my table,
The hollow whisper of you
still echoes in my mind.
And the cold comfort
of sleeping with substitutes
only leaves the heart bereft.
Our flower bed tumbled
with naked leaves entwined
with Forget-me-not’s
and breathless kisses,
was never meant to turn
into a ****** killing field.
And yet it did.

There's a fear in me I can't deny.
That the memory of us
madly tearing each others hearts out,
while ripping each others clothes off
will eventually start to dissolve
like an unholy ghost in the wind.
Denial and terror at the same time.
Because what would become of me,
if my fractured soul would let
the hollow whisper to return?

Diary confessions

I’m in a vicious state of mind,
no siren calls to stem the putrid inferno
burning my mind to charcoal,
petrifying it to unblemished obsidian.
Words of love don’t reach me,
silly human endearments bore me,
touch me and I’ll slice your hands off.
It’s not good, they tell me.
But I will build my armory.
Until this warped, traitorous world
can be wrenched, twisted, hammered
back into hinges,
that I have complete control of.
Silence...
Finally

Testament of a panzer maiden

A last word whispered
Before we go quietly into the night.
No more stars to light our way
No more colors painting our dreams.
We loved, lived fiercely
Tumbling through storms of imagination.
Too late now for reruns
Much too late for serenades.
Ghostly hands caressing
every particle of our beings.
Chance glimmered like the morning star through veils of sensibility.
Ripping apart matter of physical logic,
Shoving reasons far, far behind doors
meant to lock out mad desires
haunting spells and sweet promises...
But
despite all the rationals
and hopeless day dreaming.
Believe me when I tell you.
You are loved.
Never forgotten.
Always my only.
And destined for
whatever your heart want.
Be true to faith
Aim high.
The answer is not to know it all
But to believe.

Legacy of Z

The moon has turned his dark on me.
But I still beg to use his pale eyes
fetching the last glimpses of desire.
And even if you no longer care for
my morning kisses on your thighs
and my moonlight caresses in the night.
I still need to feel
the thrumming harmony
of you slipping inside my shields.
How deeply you’ve plunged into
the inner core of me.
Perfect fit and yet
a distant hologram of
a lover held in my dreams alone.

I’ll never be fulfilled.
unless I forget your splendor.
You shine, like no other.
Your bright was my ultimate high.
And within all my incapable
and impotent denial.
I did try to rub away
the golden fingerprints of you.
But now I’ve come to despair
that they will ever disappear.