i am not in the mood to write...
my head is in piercing pain;
emotions are sore and haphazard;
resistance is doubling its might;
slain eyes are about to rain...

yes, my eyes have been slain -
like two lovers
by a jealous and envious third;
been rid of all chances
and glimpses -
so yenned for, like air -
of you...

they rain clear showers,
they rain crimson showers,
they flood all terrain and
shape rivers -
deep crimson-clear rivers of need,
they let my soul bleed
through their chambers...

i am not in the mood to write...
because - you've both hurt me like hell,
because - you've both played with my feelings;
because you care naught for my reelings...

i am not in the mood to write...
what did EVER i do to you?!

or, maybe, - you're simply a coward
for being a friend AND a lover?!

but that would be
artlessly easy...
or, maybe, i'm - simply - just blind?

i am not in the mood to write;
i am not in the mood to fight;
i am not in the mood for my goodness;
and for backstage-politics wooers...

(c)kRu, 03.07.-13.07.11

I like the fresh air
Because it gives me a break
From your cigarettes

I exhausted every moment of my life
scattering seeds
in all bounds and boundary
of my deep-rooted burns,
and now a tangled, torch-lit garden grows.