I am a snowman in spring
Hoping you’d keep
The lumps of coal,
The carrot nose,
The broom at least...

A pack of wolves is
Sometimes preferable
To a pack of cigarettes
Makes for a coup de grâce
A merciful death
And I’m fresh out of wolves

let go of the blue
constantly hidden and true
there are too many hills
left to climb
leave all the windmills
behind

let go of the guilt
that your heart is too big
I know it sees too
I'm just a guest visiting
borrowing
your smile just like glue

(mending wings
and severed strings
petal and root)

let go of wet salt
it cannot be your fault
that you shelter our hopes
we come mere vessels
weak and effervescent;
we leave complete with a soul

In brittle dark
I’m shedding body on your canvas
leaving flesh in strokes of boldness;
arms are warm,
your thighs are hotter from us, burning,
as friction seals the picture
of sparks embracing ashes
painting lust
reforging Us

The negative image of a drop in the sea...
All of my burning, reduced
To a spark in hell;
And if I escaped
I know what awaits,
That the sky would fall;
Heaven bright ablaze,
Every breath exhaled
Now holds the promise of
The cheapest ending yet
But I’m holding on
To seeing out the next sunset

sometimes you enter the maw of the beast;
severed heads lie around still watching,
and you march forth into the bowels of hell
fighting off fears, horrors and demons
own and foreign
for the ultimate prize
taking home the devil

me and her we barely talk
like spies for different governments
I've tried extracting information
but I'm cut off, passing out
and I wake up every time
17, heart-broken with silence

blank stares scan my every evening
somehow I am still invisible
turning this into a cold green light
to explore the dark corridors of my heart
my thoughts turn to microfilms
and battle plans and secret blueprints
my cover's hanging by a thread

I'm now a fugitive with everything to lose
a secret agent in love with their handler,
the disembodied string of signs on glowing screen
how much emptier than this is it possible to get

because there is no home
and you can't just go back to the agency
one wrong step and charges vary
from espionage to treason
and there've never been any right moves
at all

so now it's back to basics

Charcoal hands
draw tales
of flames,
the kind that vow
to end us

Beneath the ash
a spark betrays
your warmest hues,
your sweetest sigh,
igniting you,
my canvas

lead rain
the prison bars of gray days

spinning the umbrella propeller
mercury people blend in

but it’s not what we’re all made of

Put some stress on those legs
Not a dress that begs
My permission for takeoff

you left me cold
like a long burned-out
chunk of coal
I stopped glittering
because I knew
that I was not of gold

what, already
that aroma;
not a single spoon
of sugar:
the better
the awakening;
my coffee grinning,
shaking me

there's no way
to backtrack;
I'm sipping from b-cups,
kicking into gear...

flash forward;
(flesh in the background)
absentmindedly
chasing destination
instead of destiny,
always in a hurry

coffee drops
now drying up
disheveled,
the only ones
still keeping
memory of lips
retreating
like the waves
caressing shores
goodbye

long gone is
the reflection
undulating eyes

thoughts are perched
on mornings:
the old ones,
the upcoming...

Electric light,
a robot sun;
the real one,
a god,
who was dethroned,
and now we make our own,
powered by our blinding
arrogance and vanity

Out of the blue
And into the black
A thought passed through my head
It was you who crossed my heart
And went right out
The exit wound

In our sleep
There are sparks
Unblinking
And when the flags of nations
In the hands of tyrants
Strive to suffocate the fires
Of our conscience
There are those
Whose lives are palms around the flame of truth
And she, the truth, a moon at night
Will never fail to summon
Her champion, the wolf
The lone survivor
Whose howling can’t be silenced
Taking flight
And overwhelming every obstacle there is
So that we know
That freedom’s not for free
When men are driven
To become the wolves they never thought they’d be
Only to remind us
Of the value in humanity

* * *

В съня ни
има искри
които не мигват дори
И щом на нациите знамената
във ръцете на тирани
устремени са, пожарите да задушат
на съвестта ни,
Има ги онези
със животи като длани във заслон на пламъка от истина.
А тя, истината, на нощта луната,
не ще пропусне да повика
рицарят ѝ вълк,
последен оцелял
със несломимия си вой,
издигнал се във полет,
препятствията всички превъзмогнал,
за да узнаем ние,
че не е безплатна свободата
щом хора са принудени да станат вълците каквито те самите не биха предполагали...
да ни напомнят
стойността в човечното!

a feeling of incomplete awakening
where sleep has not set in before
a glimpse of another time and space
calm primordial darkness
pervading unity
predating everything
before the stars
and gravity
arcane sensation of belonging
expanding intuition warming
self-awareness fading in
thickening drive
for breaking out of comfort
for a journey of discovery
the cracking of the eggshell
the slow withdrawal
of the veil of slumber
outstretched arms will welcome
the emergence
come alive
my eyes are yours now

Droplets
On windows
And on skin;
Telltale translucency
Are you
A window as well
With a chance of opening?

Ask Margo why the Salt is always hungry
Why Lime is everthisty
Envious of big bro Lemon
Who, on his part, admires Orange
'midst the Cubes of Ice complaining

Broken window
I’m the stone she put through the glass
Of her own room
I will not default on my blame
But what of the hand I was rested in
Ever so innocent
Weighing on broken shoulders of guilt
Fractured to shards
And the stone prays for miracles
May she learn, unharmed

My skin can hear your colors
From the other end
Of happiness

But the line is folding in a loop
Closing in a circle
And the end is the beginning

Time is tesselating
Unto itself
But we have not the senses

There is no loss
Just continuation
Into the unknown

Relativity delays
The arrival of awareness
Consciousness is slow to form

The cooling of the mold
Takes a great deal more
Hence, the procrastination

Inert and habitual;
Words taking root
In everything

My end and your beginning
Collided into a freshly manifesting
Iteration of existence

The bud becomes
The fruit
A new cycle

Omniscience is empty
I don’t want to know everything;
I don’t even want to know you.
The evidence is not humane,
No one needs proof of being
I need not fathom;
I need motion,
The dance between the ribs;
Wed the sapient to the savage
Where is the fine line?
You cannot intuit till you cross it,
But keep both eyes open
At all times;
Not the pretty ones with the lashes,
That swallow the light,
But the ones that devour the dark.

Sadists, aren’t we all… abusing that for which we fall…
The way that I’m obsessed… with the fabric of your dress
Although it doesn’t feel as good… as tender skin beneath it would
So it deserves the claws… and lacerated ribbons’ flow…
Of all the fingers, it’s the thumb… that sees the broadest, like the sun
Runs in circles on those knees… the sweet of you I love to read
Yet passion thrives on sacrifice… with aftermaths of melting ice
To treat the paintings on your skin… which lust, in trance, would blindly leave
Like every coin, there are two sides… and truth is tasting both in life…
The things that we adore… our hunger paints in gore
And now you’re in the palms… their lips brush off the calm…
The sinking of the teeth… the flavor underneath...

She is light weeping shadows
depth you cannot follow
velvet rain on summer nights
lips exhaling sweetest flight

‘Neath the solid waves of ribs
She is storm my inkwell stirring
Mere whirl of finger tips
Erupting in a dance of fury

As we move as one
Fears fade behind
shed like skin of old
in gold and ruby fall

   * * *

Диханието на Октомврия

Тя е светлина плачеща сенки
Дълбина недостижима
Дъжд от кадифе във летни нощи
Устни с дъх на сладък полет

На ребрата изпод твърдите вълни
Буря Тя е в моята мастилница
Щом леко само пръсти потопи
Ще изригне танц най-див

Движим се ведно
А страховете вяхнат
Като стара кожа падат
В есен от рубин и злато

my lungs dive deep
into the marrow
of your embrace

beneath the waves
they find
your heart

please don't
worship me
into ascension

I wouldn't bare
to be your
Aztec sun god

Wonder how they came up ahead of me… she’d been leaking information to the enemy. A double agent. She loves me but it can’t be helped. It is her nature. Well don’t you know, my seductive charming spy mistress, that the fuse is lit. Your behavior, a recipe for calamity. We might be the epicenter, ground zero, but no one shall be spared. Everyone involved will be affected. A 360 degree firestorm of shrapnel. Just because. You needed more… to feel more beautiful, more wanted, more seductive, by more parties. Never enough. More.
Love lies spilling guts, from the mess up still partially beautiful. Face almost calm, not contorted. Pain is numbed as she disintegrates like vapour. But we’ve become a desert and it will not rain back for centuries.

If truth is omnipresent
then it equals death.
So what am I?
A lie.
Alive.
As long as I'm not gone
nothing's set in stone.
There is time to thrive.

I'm the cracks that crawl
along the cold etched words
I'll be back into the mold
that shelters all of us
but not today.
Before it is all lost,
it all must be gained.

Deceivingly aquamarine sky
Oversees the madness of summers
Whose days are closing in
But this time your astral projection
Conquers the atmosphere
And my lungs join the prayer of ribs
Asking for
"Please turn this grasp into a caress
Soothing the burns
That I may have the chance
To become remedy"

War by proxy,
the future of conflict
super powers clashing
on foreign soil
in battles fought by locals
divided into camps
pitted against their own
for differing convictions
not for the lack of reasons;
fuel to the fire added
by their recruiters
propaganda,
subterfuge,
subversion;
no need to worry about ordnance
and military hardware,
ammo and suplies
they will be provided
duly
by the sponsors;
the agenda is
to drown a patch of land in blood,
with an island built from bones
lonely in the middle,
just big enough for a g-man
to set foot upon,
tie the laces of his boot;
an then move on.
But what of all the residue?
Nothing goes to waste
all will be reused
blood to fuel
bones to amunition
surviving souls to generations of hate slaves

If you're elsewhere building an oasis
somewhere peaceful, someplace quiet,
watch your back and keep an eye
on the silent sky
there are birds of steel and wires
with their artificial brains
roaming, cruising, watching,
their senses and their talons
lent to their
puppeteers, mere employees
looking for a chance,
at that multikill promotion
fingers itching at the joystick...
but outside and back at home,
a prison cell of boredom
waits to chew them in slow motion
to the bombed and the bombing,
to the greedy and the mourning,
we don't call this life
hell is real
we're both prey and hunter
madness is contagious and haunting

I asked her “tell me now,
Willow, why you weep”
She said “because, my cloud,
No rain has come to me
In a while”

“But you are on the riverbank
how much more water could you want”

“And yet I long for yours
for it's coming from above
and I'm in love with a cloud”

I’m genuinely open-palmed to rain… and that skin of yours falling unto... my whole topography… gently sifting… summer showers from… salacious cumulus seduction… I wonder why there’s no escaping bliss… that indescribably sweet torture of… how good it feels to pull apart those ribs… and rip the last remaining strands of victimization... under the influence of sentient ambrosia… and the rivers break out galloping… splashing pirouettes on river banks… caressing, kissing, caressing, kissing… tenderness and passion… drowning hands tightly clenched, screaming madly… “I want you”…

parallax movement of the clouds
beneath the dome of now departing summer
my eyes kept anchor till it tore
and so my wish was written
into the cloud, the vessel of my message
before I bid it farewell and let it go
a bottle in the sea whose lips
caress your shores

*

Фоново движение на облаците
Под купола на отпътуващото лято
Очите ми държаха котва, но се скъса
И тъй желанието мое бе написано
По облака, съда на моето послание
Преди се сбогувам и да го пусна
Бутилка във морето чиито устни
Милват твойте брегове

Less and less I’m getting human
At the back of my tongue,
The more I bite of
People’s thoughts;
Here prevails a taste of plastic
Be it cooked, or be it raw

I was assembled 33 years ago
From a piece of genetic code
My firmware was updated incrementally
The errors didn’t happen accidentally

And the glitches carried
Hidden features, secretly;
Surprisingly,
You’d come across a stowaway
A smuggled possibility for change

Deviation from the norms
With incalculable vector
Even if you have direction
There’s no way to know the destination

My main mistakes were
Having lust for knowledge and
The infinite supply of patience
While my time was running out of sand

she wants the world to know
she wants to show
she wants to know the world
personified
she wants that world to want
to know her
she kissed his mind
with lips of words
she wants the world
to know her

marriage is
just two letters
longer than
mirage
(penned by different feathers)
but is Mr. Age
what matters
as he does
for cars in a garage?

The shelter,
The harbor,
The home,
The heartfelt warmth
Weaving through marrow and bone,
Undulating softness like no other
All in the lulling of a song,
The voice of the mother.

My veins are rivers;
you're a fast swimmer,
but you love taking
your time

Caught by showers in the wild
We hide beneath a tree
The snake is in your eyes
And the apple is my lips

* *

Eden’s’ reach
Translucent touch
Fingers trickle down
I watch the glow
Into your irises
I catch the flow
At the corners of your mouth

* *

Translucent fingers’ touch
Trickles down your face
Slowly close your eyes
And every drop is me

Flood is rushing down
The trenches of my palm
Falling into view
And every drop is you

they say there is no other life
but here inside this body
here within this skull
measured by the goodbyes
of countless nows
but to me there is
yes, outside this box
on the blank sheet
seemingly flat
endlessly deep
in infinite dimensions

Flame-eyes
Reach out
To the moth-heart

she emits
vulnerability
slight submission;
the makeup of
her heart's desire;
a secret invitation
to a trap,
her bait, infallible
her every fiber
now conspires;
the message,
slightly cryptic,
abandoned at your doorstep
on arrival,
implies an SOS;
a damsel in distress
beneath the armored shell
of self-sufficiency
"come, rescue me
from dull security",
the cypher says...
A one man army
now awaiting orders,
to deploy along the shores,
to breach the borders
to conquer every hill,
capture every trench,
to liberate the thrills,
from every inch of flesh
The queen within
the prison tower
now demanding for a siege,
for deadly force,
relentless power,
and no rest
till she is free

It’s obvious why we tend to become stuck on the details
And I mean “when”
It’s no surprise it’s through the surface
That we explain what can’t be seen
Yet can be eyed by heightened senses
The softest to know, the hardest to describe
It’s not a place, that knowledge, but “a” time

Your tongue speaks
The language of my lips
Fluently

She handpicked the hearts as fruit
And  never said whom she would choose
But  torn they were from their vines
Oblivious to their use
In making finest timeless wine

And only history would know
This taste that would endure the flow
Of time, of memory, and mortal minds,
One destiny, herself, designed

She was playing with the rim of her glass. Running a finger. She wasn’t fully aware, it wasn’t really on purpose. As if the glass was playing with her, not the other way around. Her fingertips went down on the glass, caressing its stem. There was so much happening in the back of her head that she wasn’t completely present. She dipped her finger and got a taste. Just the tip, she thought. Just a drop. Why? There was no “why”. Something was going down. She wanted to break the ice and make him forget about protocols and small talk and all the boring stuff. Her clock was already ahead. Her lips weren’t kissing the glass. They were elsewhere. Kissing the tip. She wanted that dip. She wanted his lips on the rim of her glass. Sipping from her. Something had spilled somewhere. But not the cool of the wine. It was warm. Who knows where it had started to trickle. Somewhere behind her eyes, would be a good guess. But it was inevitable where it would end up. It would part lips. It would not be contained. Here thighs were clenched shut like a vise. Her tongue craved new flavor. She wanted to excuse herself but she felt a bizarre excitement in walking on a razor-thin edge of a boiling sensation. The tease. The pleasant torture. He had stopped talking. He was focused on her lips. How long has it gone like that? Her casual gestures couldn’t mask anything now. She was all color seeping from behind the makeup. She suddenly caught his stare just like she would his hand. But she would not deflect it. She would guide him. And this realization exploded in her head… and everywhere simultaneously. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled. She climaxed.
“Are you okay?”

the sun god reaches out for me
index finger, a fiery beam
to claim my heart again
for the new day
for today's sunset
for tomorrow's sunrise
pierce the indigo cloak
rip it out through broken ribs
the prison bars asunder
claw it out from me
and make me cling
to dear life
compelled to fight
find in strife
what I lost in comfort

Endless ocean in the sky
Billions of glowing eyes
Watching us
Yet mine
Are locked with yours
And open are the doors
To worlds,
Secrets of the universe

She keeps hijacking the most pure
Of my metaphors
I wonder if she
Sells them in slavery
To him;
Forced into prostitution
To the ****;

Who sells their own children
To their lover/business partner?
My only weapon is now
Saying the truth out loud

She offers him stolen
****** expressions
as sacrifice
but they were mine
I grew and nurtured them
I fostered and guarded them
And she took them away

They were merely thoughts
in my garden with osseous walls
I showed them to her,
gave them her tears
and her smiles,
gave them her names;
She picked them and ran,
claimed them not even
all for herself…
but for him…
the foreign body

This is merely one
in a line of treacheries
and I will no longer
allow her to fall
any further
into this monstrous
scar of transgression.

come won't you stay awhile
come won't you brush denial
off of my lids

come won't you stay awhile
come so I brush denial
off of your lips

come won't you stay,
your hands in mine,
come won't you rest your palms
so we can peel
impossibility
and build the bridge within
and heartstrings hold the roads
and hands interlocked will close
the distance
in handfuls of deliverance

Friendly pokes
***** jokes
Someone has misheard:

-Are you some kinda perv?
-I struck some kinda nerve?

Awkward looks
into boots.

Who will be the first
to change the topic,
pitch of talking?
Can this be reversed?

It was just an impulse.
Yes, it is that simple
when it's not rehearsed.
Who's that good with words?

Smile and let's move on.
Let us not be dull.
Moods will come and go
so on the go we learn.