watching from the window
i would throw myself
and arrive down there,
in the world.

but i will never do that
because from down there,
all the people don t seem smaller
and i can hear their screams
and fall in love with sad faces
and my smile is believed to be
as fake as theirs.

still cannot
understand
how people can
kiss strangers
and feel high.
it's like the
worst lie
you don't
have to say
but you still
use your
lips.

i met him at a masquerade, a silly place
where people do not need names.

wearing the mystery of the night,
dancing under the raw spotlight,
his honey lips, his indecisive eyes
were feeding innocent souls with lies.

but then i saw him, at midnight,
alone and hidden with his one light
-the lonely moon, the queen of dead
in front of whom his cheeks turned red.

he was just a tragic moonlover
when the masquarade was over.
oh, that poor disguised angel
made falling in love seem so fatal...

last week, a black car
appeared out of nowhere
while i was riding my bike
on a busy street.
the headlights burnt my eyes
and my fingers clung to
the handle bar.

i think i died once then.
i passed the initiation.
now, it is time to risk.

this thing with two wheels
is everything i own.
New York is 200 miles away.
i am going to ride the bike
that once brought me to death
to the most golden
point.

that spring i had to leave
before the lilac trees bloomed.

the hills of peace slowly changed
to the streets washed with bleach.

empty mountain dew bottles
on the pavement
took the place of the grass.

this city was never going to grow
because people were always so upset
about days with rain.

three weeks in
i caught myself wondering.

wondering if:

if the color of the lilac i left was
as purple as a healing bruise?

if i climbed their tower blocks
could i see the other side?

if the time were to stop
would that still be called eternity?

then a lifeless object rang
and reminded me
to get back to my new life.

the imagine of the budded trees
slowly erased from my mind.

yesterday i decided
where i will run away to-.
i wrote the coordinates in black
on a blue colored paper
and threw it
in my childhood friend's garden.

i also called a star after
my first lover's name;
that star will be my home.

i will travel just at night
because i know that all the people
that pretended to care about me
are all so afraid of the dark.

....and i will begin to write
about my life as a youth,
but by the time they recongnise me
i will be gone, diving
into cherry blossom water
and bittersweet freedom.
i will dye my hair
light ocean blue and
finally settle myself
in the first city i fall in love with.
i will spend nights
at karaoke famous clubs
dedicating songs to old faces
and i will spend mornings
sipping lavender tea at fancy cafés
observing those people
who will never die.

but i know that, in the end,
none of these will be part of me
for eternity.

a scared girl who thinks is brave
because she ran away.

they say that if you drink
enough water you will be healthy
i say that if you shed enough tears
you ll be finally happy.

i have not touched the edge.
i have not fallen that deep,
then i have not felt like flying
and i have not fooled myself
that i will land on my feet
and be as innocent as once.
nor have i melted on the ground
but crying because it hurts
when risk and hope colide.
still injured i have not smiled,
so proud that i fell fearless
even my fragile heart
broke into small pices.

yeah, i have not done this
i will just keep waiting.

we are neon.
we wear it on our hair,
on our eyelids
and on our clothes.

at night,
we are nobody's sons
and nobody's daughters.
we lure in
moths
that see us like specks of light
in their own subconscious darkness.

we are alive,
but the sun still rises up
if we die.

we are neon.
beautiful and wanted,
young and noble,
our bodies shine in
yellow, green and blue,
but our wounds are red.

if you end up hurting me
i will look up to the universe,
grow roots in the ground
and shed tears while smiling.

does not every experience
bring us closer to this world's heart?
a string of light connects me to you
since the day we first met
and now it is just getting brighter.

i don't know how to live
and this is my best excuse.
you can leave me.
you can try to break the string.
you can continue to believe that
you are the center
of something infinite.

she walked on the pier
to be closer to the heart of the sea.

as the girl was waiting for
the waves,
the shells
and the moonlight
to empower her once again,
some tears fell on her cheek;
they were cold and salty.

the wind was calling her
by the name
given at the birth of the universe.
the marine creatures
were humming and scampering.

she couldn't be helped that night
but the sea was still her salvation.

it was high time
she had become a mermaid.

her feet never touched the land again;
she went further the end of the pier.

i am sorry.
the light agressively
woke me up and
made me live another day
as a part of this
insanely organised world.

you said i had a
beautiful, misunderstood
mind.
so i began to act like
i did not belong there.

if only you hadn't failed
to be my home,
if only i had learned earlier
that i am in control
of my present.

these modern tribes
are so afraid of
loneliness and death,
each life is mediocre
and golden
in the same time.

the boy with black hair
talks like a renaissance person
and shines like Venus.

he is ******* up and brilliant,
he is cold and full of venom,
but he cannot love
and he cannot die.

my mind has been far,
wandering through his universe.
it stops and listens to his heartbeat.
silence.

the world is his,
but he does not belong here.
the boy is a sphere
of incomprehensible truths
and we are just a circle.

r.c.
r.c.
you are my only ticket to eternity.

but how lovely
a stranger's eyes are
when you see them
reflected in the bus
window!

i like astronomy
but i can t decide if
my feelings for you
are
meteors
or
meteorits?

i have been scared of death
since the day i learnt i was alive;

blue ***** drops rise
from the heart of the ocean
reaching for the forbiden place,
reaching for brightest star
that will bring their end.

for them we are as irrelevant
as an orange cloud in a storm;
the raindrops which fall on our faces
are pure and cold, but carry
the gold.

can you be my
favourite person
and can i be yours?

the stars will not light up tonight
they seem to fear the dark.
they realised the sky is just a trap
and people are too small to care about.

so this night i will live my life
because darkness is now in all of us
and i feel so beautiful and wild.

the world is violet, black and blue
so i do not care if you once pretended
to be a sane sad dreamer too.
dance your own dance and then fly.

now i can touch all my ilussions,
i decide whats poisonous for my mind
now the wind is playing with my hair
and the world that used to know me is far
far away.

it is autumn.
you are golden;
you were golden
in summer
too.

tonight i slept with
my windows wide open.
now, i am part of this world.
i feel it, it doesn't feel me.

400 000 people in this city
have their own warm
incandescent light.
my friend was crying
on the floor of her house;
all dark.
one lady was listening loud
to the song that defined
her life.
but all i heard that night
were the sounds of peace,
coming from the shaky leaves,
the sleepy urban dogs
and the fast red motorcycles.

i've heard you
talking to the stars.
do your scars
heal with their light?
do they feel,
compassionate and kind,
your sorrow,
and understand
your blue life?

i've talked to them once
cold as iced ice,
they wasted my time.

i like talking to the
grass, the flowers
instead.
they aren't dead,
immortal or fire-red.
they aren't wise,
they just empathise.
the trees, the green
sometimes talk back
and i listen like a child;
the rustling leaves,
the broken twigs.

but you look up!
bored of the ground,
you need their coldness,
their empty shiny eyes.

today,
an unexplainable joy
electrified my body.
i dreamt about the future
and i felt bittersweet
because i had chosen
the hardest path to freedom.

i was a bird, a hunter and
the wind.
i killed myself and then
i was killed;
change seemed such a cliché
but death did not.

my story is worth-telling.
your dime novels sell good.
i can let you invent an ending.
tell them who i am
or who i were.

because
on the moon
there are no rules
and breathtaking views.

this blanket doesn't
keep you warm
so you close your eyes
and beg for
more and more life.

now your world is cold
because when
you were up high
you stared at the sun
when others jumped
and killed the light.

now it feels like
you lost your mind.

the sun begins to set
and it gets dark in our houses
so we draw the curtains
eventhough the sky is
still burning in the west.

i don't need people.
the sun embraces me
everyday,
the salty waves
greet me at nights,
and the stars
dance beside me
with their disco light.

i find myself in
this quiet,honest,wild
world,
where every bird's song
and every wind blow
is playing in the
background.

nothing hurts me,
everything is just as it is.

resting my head
on the cold window sill,
i stare somewhere far,
beyond the sky,
then take a long look
at the sun
with my bare eyes.

too much light,
too much warmth,
can hurt a lonely person.
but i can't stop dancing
to your songs,
i can't look down anymore when
i see your electric eyes.

all the roads lead to you
and i truly want them to;
because i see
the heaven,
the sky
in your pretty eyes
and i know that
you can change me
but i can't change you.

she lost herself
at the end of
february
when the world
stopped being
as cold as her.

all the harmless tricks
and the ice on the ground
were melted
by the brighter sun.

summer is gone
and gone is the only love i ever had.
orange was the sky,
blue was my heart,
but now i have to go back,
to my home,
to old Pleasantville.

i am young,
i should have more fun,
i will not be young forever,
i should enjoy the run.
the stars, the sea, the mountain peaks,
every man watches them,
happy that the wish came true.

you and i,
we fitted the golden picture,
riding our rented bikes in the square,
ingoring the danger in the air.

wish i could take a glance
at the lands behind the sun;
are we indeed the lucky ones?

huge spheres and stars fail
to fill the biggest void of all,
yet people complete people
and love is methaphysical.

people invented death,
but some of us feel immortality,
not me, not you, but those
who got their name carved
in the sky of other blue dimensions.

how can we live
a life that was not lived before?
we cannot anymore.
we are just parts of the universal soul.

if i showed you the lines
i write after i cry,
after i stopped the world
by closing my eyes,
after i miss the sunrise
because of taking the bad ride,
after i dance alone
when all the life is gone.
if i showed you the lines
i hide
i am sure we will both cry.

i walk on the narrow streets
like nobody walks,
i feel the burning pavement
through my shoe soles
and i know
how many trees and
how many faces
the wind carressed
before it touched mine.

yes, i write about you,
but you are someone else
in my spectrum world.
you are a saviour,
who will save us all.

are you a saviour in the real world?

i could read out loud
for the ivy which climbs my walls,
the poems i write
about her heart-shaped leaves;
because i know that
her innocent vanity
will not make her poisonous.
but for you,
those poems would be poison,
the roots
of your future toxic actions.

yes, you once did me good,
so i borrowed your name
and now i am letting the old you
live
in my pretty words.

my world is blue
and if you kiss me
i will **** you too.

roses dry faster
in my sweaty hands;
outside is storm
and my window is
wide open.

so get in the car
and drive down
to the wild sea;
lose yourself there,
lose yourself
at the place
i lost my sanity.

rendez-vous at nine
trust me, i am fine.

sweet summer days
i m here for the chase.

pink lipstick red
look at what i had.

shells and ocean waves
always in a race.

listening to blues
dancing till we lose.

sleeping on the sand
holding your cold hand.

setting blue pale fires
we burn the souls desires.

feeling good as freaks
learned all their tricks.

we travel in paper boats
loud fireworks.

beautiful colors of the night
i haven t lost my sight.

we live on this beach
feeling wild and rich.

one day, i passed by phoneix café;
weren't you the one
playing bass guitar there?

saw you at a table before,
tying back your strings
in safe double knots
so that you show 50% of your grief
when you perform.

biker jacket, broken soul,
you were hurt by something
that you still adore.

they see that.
they find themselves in your pain.
but do i know, do the boys and the girls
in the first row know
who you were months ago?