Singurătatea e ce ne aduce împreună
Pentru că noi căutăm siguranță în durerea altcuiva...

You are the cosmic rays that dance on my face;
Such a soft yet powerful death
Heralded by the fallen angels and wrapped
In gift bubbles of soda and smoke.
Sometimes, you are imperceptible,
The passing pollution that whistles in my ear
And settles slyly in my lungs.
Sometimes, you are background noise
A power plant I have no use for
In a world so driven by sunlight
And I feel I have shrugged off your load...

But then the earth shakes
And your nuclear explodes.

A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't

One inhalation of the sky
To separate the murky sea
And reassure you as you cry
The clouds still hover by your knee.

Two puffs of moonlight left behind
As products of the midnight rose
Then let your sorrow be refined
As angels let their weak wings close.

Three champagne bubbles of a laugh
A courtesy sent by a friend
A flash of lightning in the dark
Like vaulting over to the end.

Step four is harder than the rest
As it depends on nature's strain
Abandon sunshine on your quest
And wallow in torrential rain.

And halfway there it's number five
And rhythm marks a saddened truth
A little song to drown alive
A beacon in such inky youth.

A devil's dance at number six
Invest in favouring your greed
Some crime electrifies the mix
Prioritise things you don't need.

At seven let yourself break free
And choke in sympathetic arms
Unscrew the lock and break the key
Because your friends contain some calm.

Except, at eight you'll be alone
Reciting old quotes that apply
And spending hours on your phone
Relating till your eyes are dry

At number nine then, here it is
The scent of fear that smells like grace
You tune your blood to lightly fizz
And brush the tears from off your face

Ten gashes end the whole ordeal
Of shortened breath and shaking hands
Though sunsets bleed the way you feel
No one else will understand

It's not a choice, it's a command.

Now your mind is stressing less
You've cured the chaos with a mess.