the world hums like a bad refrigerator,
louder when you’re trying to sleep.
I sit in this rotting chair,
watching the ash from my cigarette
grow longer, thinner—
a ******* metaphor
I won’t write down
because metaphors are for fools
with something to prove.

the landlord’s upstairs
stomping out his bad marriage,
and the cat’s staring at me
like I’m supposed to fix it.
like I ever fixed a **** thing.
the whiskey’s out,
the bread’s moldy,
and there’s no mail
but bills that
have already lost their patience.

I knew a woman once,
beautiful in the way
that broken glass can be beautiful
when the light hits it just right.
we didn’t talk about love,
but the bed remembered us,
the walls learned our names.
she left
the same way the good ones always do—
quietly,
like the sound of a train
you only notice
after it’s gone.

the ash falls,
finally,
into the grave of the tray.
and I think,
hope is like a stray dog—
it keeps following you
no matter how many times
you kick it away.

the first time her lips met mine
was like a war ending,
like the moment the bomb hits
and the smoke curls up,
and for one second,
the world forgets its weight.

it wasn’t soft.
it wasn’t polite.
it was heat,
and teeth,
and a hunger I didn’t know
I’d been starving for.
her hand brushed my waist
like a secret,
fingers tracing the curve of my body
like she was trying to memorize
the taste of me.

we fell into it—
the kiss,
the touch,
the way our bodies came together
like they’d always known
where they belonged.
I wanted to hold it,
wrap it around me like a blanket,
press my face to her neck
and never let go.
her breath was warm against my skin,
her heart beating louder than mine,
and in that moment,
nothing else mattered.

but then—
the door slammed open,
the world barged in,
with its judgment and its fists.
the voices rose,
too loud,
too angry,
too full of things we never asked for.

“what the hell is this?!”
they screamed.
and I looked at her,
hoping she’d hold me,
hoping she’d fight for us.
but she pulled away,
eyes wide like I was a stranger,
like I was the one who’d made her
forget her place.

“no, no, no,”
she screamed,
shaking her head,
her voice cracking like glass.
“it wasn’t me—
she made me do it!
I didn’t want this.
I didn’t want her.”

and every word she said
ripped me open,
every syllable was a knife
twisting into the space
we’d just built between us.
I stood there,
frozen,
feeling the weight of her denial
crush everything I’d felt.

her eyes,
her beautiful eyes,
didn’t look at me anymore.
they looked at the floor,
at the people who’d come to take me from her.
and in that moment,
I realized how small I was—
how easy it was for her to forget
the taste of me,
the heat of me,
how easily she could sell us out
for the sake of safety.

I didn’t fight.
I didn’t scream.
I just turned,
and walked away,
my lips still burning from her kiss,
but knowing it was already dead.

I’ve met the night a hundred times—
She carries no remorse,
Her silver hand upon my chest
A silent, steady force.

Her breath is like a frozen hymn,
Too soft for earth to hear—
Yet chills my soul, and bends my will
Until it disappears.

I sought to end the endless ache
With shadows on the wall,
But shadows only shift and shrink,
And answer not my call.

There is no mercy in the stars,
No kindness in the frost—
Yet some persist to claim that light
Redeems what has been lost.

End me, then, O faithful dark—
Unbind this brittle form,
And leave me not to linger here
Through one more bitter storm.

With each step I take,
I am closer to the dark light.
Each heartbeat leads me
to the finality.

Conceived without pain,
I am trying to find the lost moment.
Your naked hands roam freely
over my frail body -
hatred is what
the smallest ones desire.

Painfully cursed, today
I end this wicked journey
for something that no one knows.
I have become lost
to the world.

My condescending tears
are too ridiculous to be of any use.
Your spasmodic whisper
tries to tame the night
that consistently plays with the light,
that asks for
a scrap of its own sadness.

Intoxicated with hope,
sold at a bargain price -
I try to overcome life in myself,
to find pain that will teach me
to yearn so that everyone
will envy me.

I was created from air and tears.
I was born from humility,
which is foreign
to this land, to unknown skies.

I do not want to be a dream
that disperses in darkness;
I do not want to remind of existence,
which misses the lie.

With each subsequent vision
I come closer to a universe
that, hastily invented, does not associate
with tenderness,
does not connect with silence.

Please think, before the last tear,
the definitive flame of a smile,
falls asleep in you.
My body, divided into chapters,
becomes an apocalypse,
for which it is worth visiting paradise,
admitting sadness.

I do not want the future
to belong entirely to me.
I do not want the reflections of shadows
to hurt my heart.

I watch your illusions furtively -
I am leaving this place, looking for
another penance.
I will no longer dance as the ballad desires,
as the dream indicates.

I will not become the foundation
for senses.

Leap years. Thoughts that will never
learn to fly. A chance
that will be reborn as pride
if time so decides.

I recognized you by the taste
of your lips - too sweet to be true.
I know there will come
a time when the eyes will forget
how to cry.

What I will have left of you is a tear
turned into amber,
a silent future, a cursed era.
There will be neither shadow
nor light anymore.

There will be no more silent breath,
suffering word, fog that fawns
on my bare knees.
Tomorrow we will wake up
on the other side of loneliness -
where forests burn,
where freedom becomes torment.

I tried to admit to a life
I did not commit. However, fate,
this incurable hypochondriac,
wanted to sentence me
to a lifetime of memory.

Beyond the barricades of memories,
grace, harnessed to heaven,
echoes back to me; somewhere inside
there are sleepless tears I will never
understand. I can't dream in a way
that would make the earth
kneel before me.

I dare not look in such a way
that the sky departs forever
into the unknown.
Time will forever remain a desert island.

his hands are cigarettes,
burning slow across the keys.
he plays like he’s trying
to empty something out of himself,
something heavy,
something he doesn’t trust
to speak aloud.

the crowd doesn’t notice.
they drink their whiskey,
laugh at their own jokes,
and hum along like they
understand the chords.

but I watch him,
the way his fingers tremble
like they’re afraid
of what comes next.
he’s in love with the piano,
or maybe he’s just stuck with it,
like a bad marriage
that refuses to end.

the music is sharp
and it hurts in all the right places,
like stepping on broken glass
but still feeling alive.
I want to tell him:
you don’t have to play for them,
they’re not listening.
play for yourself.
play to make the ghosts shut up.

but I don’t say anything.
I just watch him finish his set,
pack up his misery,
and leave the room
quieter than he found it.

they don’t wait for the grave.
they start digging
the moment you clock in.
a little deeper every day—
beneath the fluorescent lights,
beneath the bills piling up,
beneath the weight of everything
you were supposed to be
but never got around to.

they bury you early.
in offices,
in traffic jams,
in cheap apartments with walls
thin enough to hear your neighbors fighting.
in the same bar every Friday night,
where the jukebox keeps playing the same sad songs
and the bartender pours another round of regret.

they say,
“this is just life.”
and maybe they’re right—
maybe you’re supposed to carry
that invisible coffin on your back,
marching forward
like you don’t feel it getting heavier.

I knew a woman once.
she refused the shovel.
quit her job, sold her car,
got on a bus going anywhere.
people called her crazy.
but she sent me a postcard
from some small town by the ocean.
she said the air tasted like salt,
and she’d never felt more alive.

they bury you early.
unless you fight.
unless you throw the dirt back in their faces
and run like hell toward something,
anything,
that doesn’t feel like dying.

I'm afraid of failure
Of becoming a burden
But above all, I'm afraid
Of hurting the ones I love
And ending up alone...

Yet I'm here, I've shown
In the face of my demons
And screamed at them
That they'll never take
The very best of me

So I may not be fearless
I'm quite fine with that
For I'm brave