Habrán mil maneras de huir
de desesperarse, de que la paciencia mate
que siempre serán actos de cobardía
para todos,
no tanto para mí.

Lamentablemente desfilarán perfumes tuyos en mi cuello
paseará el recuerdo de tu mano por mi enrulado cabello
bajarán los dioses que alquilé para este momento
para mí,
en honor a ti.

Solo sabré acompañar y disfrazarme de mago
con ironías bobas, trucos falsos, cartuchos deshonestos
hasta alcoholizado yo maquino un inútil esfuerzo
de que regalemos ensangrentado nuestro interior
yo a ti,
ojalá que vos a mí.

This house,
                my senile cage, my belittling chains
This house,
                my strangling gag
This house,
                freedom is mythical
This house,
                tearing the littlest of my escapes
This house,
                making me ponder my next breaths
This house,
                where my tears are insipid
This house,
                where my cries are inane
This house,
                my nightmares' tender handiwork
This house,
                where I'm the nemesis
This house,
                my fated funeral flower
This house,
                the gravestone of an impending exigency.

The thorny branches of her touch have encompassed my skin and bone, turning what once was my tree of knowledge into a limerence-filled snag. I find myself wanting more, to lose my unique roots and fibre for the chance that our utter being and roots may intertwine.
To inosculate.
To be whole.

The shadowy figure looms over me, incoherent rambles of love and apologies coming from his figure as the blood drips from my nose. Father promises not to do it again, but he lies, just as he does to mother. My will falters as I forgive him again because he's my father, right? Deep down, he must care; he has to. Please don't hurt me, Father? I'm sorry for making you angry. I will finish my food next time, I swear. My mother is a figment of what she used to be, for she does not hold me like she used to; the light in her eyes has left. Why do I feel sorry for him after he 'punishes' me? He does love me, of course; it was my fault anyway. Maybe my next birthday will be better; perhaps he will stop hurting me and my mother.
Maybe.
I love you, Father, forgive me.

To prove my likeness to dislike,
What a tyrant perspective!
What a runt of blisters!
To not lay waste to the land,
To not have death dance on my hand,
I must,
I insist I must change,
Ameliorate,
Morph,
I must lie and I must change,
I must lie and I must soak both pain and pleasure,
All to my decay,
Every breathe wasted is a death to portray,
Every chance you take to turn blue,
Life will surely unveil it's self to you in it's fairest hue,
A hospital gown,
A happy mother,
Sometimes the lowest of the men dare to carve,
Out of your bones a lovely harp,
To the lonely spirit that it sang,
My bones bathed in tremor and dance,
A sight astray;a dared jubilance,
God is the sun to those who weep,
They don't dance
Thier tragedy,their morbid romance,
Oft it may seem,
That they drag under their dream,
And cultivate of themselves a liar,
That refuses to be just to their own desire.

Theres an eerie stillness to your sleeping breaths

Your gentle sighs, your dreamscape mumbles

Your subtle movements, your relaxed expression


Your measured heavy breaths


I lay unmoving, careful to not disturb

the softness of your resting eyes


In a state so peaceful so quiet

I need not awake you for my own comfort


The sound of your breaths,

their gentle presence,

calms my weary soul


I pass into slumber

listening to the eerie rhythm

of your gentle sleeping breath

Ensnared in your touch, I feel so free.
A spider's web, where I'm caught with glee.
Like Cleopatra's asp, your love is my fate,
A whispered chant that echoes, "Come, don't hesitate."

Your touch ignites a burning fire,
Melting desire, soothing my heart's fears
In your eyes, my soul finds a home,
A place to rest, where love is known.

My heart beats fast, as if outside my chest,
We're closer than a leaf that's fallen to rest.
Like life's insurance, I want to secure our love,
Whatever brings us together, beggar can't be choosy

Hook or crook, Can we seal this moment, lock it tight?
Seconds, minutes, hours

Daješ mi svoj
telefonski broj.
Nazvat ću te kažem ti
večeras ćemo zajedno izaći
autom ću po tebe doći
u otmjeni restoran ćemo otići.

Navečer smo se susreli
u otmjeni restoran smo došli
uz stol za dvoje smo sjeli
tiho smo razgovarali
uz muziku se opustili
o svojim željama pričali.
Kad smo večerali
konobaru smo platili
iz restorana smo izašli.

Na plažu uz more smo šetali
za ruke smo se držali
očima se zaljubljeno pogledali
usnama se nježno ljubili
u zvijezde smo pogledali
put prema ljubavi i sreći smo našli.
Jedno drugom smo obećali
da se zauvijek dušom i tijelom
budemo ljubili i voljeli.

Stjepan Orlić