You know taking a bath when you're cold is bad for you yet you still do it.
The cold will catch up to you once you're out.
Unless you boil yourself to the point where you can't stand the bath water and the cold is all you crave.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know this anger harbouring will get you sick and at some point something will have to break.
Yet you deny it and cry in surprise once you realise how ****** up your mind can get.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know that you not functioning without your headphones on the street is a mental deficit and you're scared of being alone.
Yet whenever you say you'll go out without your headphones you can't help but connect them again to your phone.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know the silencing glare and the subtly swallowed hate wont be enough to fix them or you yet you take no action and only speak when the times are worst causing everything to crack up again in your dysfunctional household.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
No amount of self diagnosis with narcissism, psychosis, psychopathy or plain depression will ever soothe your need of validation. So why bother.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your body's stiff, you know the causes.
Yet you try to dance, sing move as much as you can. Idiotic sensual slow killing.
You know you're only making it worse so why keep on hurting?
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your blood vessels bursting under your jeans, your veins dying to pop.
Yet you still walk. There's something not quite right with you.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar
Your ribs cracking under the spring sun, your toes bleeding from that last run when will you understand you're marked for death when will you be done?
Liar liat liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You promised you'll shave your arms, start up another life yet you're still here.
******* around.
You're nothing but a
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.

medusa can you feel me?
i've become hard of hearing.
medusa can you see me?
or are the slithers interfeering?
medusa i can feel you staring
why is counciousness abandoning me?
daring yet consoling,
this cigarette that i'm holding.
one more hit and im running
one more hit, i'll be glowing.
the fog in my head, medusa , is nothing but healing,
bet you all my ancestors are proud, ever so loving
surprinsed at the vices i'm honing.
medusa our turn always comes, you don't have to worry
we are sentenced allegory
condensed spring scented fury.
medusa spit on me.
i am anything but awake,
anything but aware
kiss my dreams away

How is it that
everyone
Is so good at
destroying themselves
?

Spare me of the self-hatred tonight
Spare me of the pain until sunlight.
Spare me of the sad dreams
I deserve at least one please.
Spare me of the desires and wishes
No-one ever knows what their future is.
Spare me of the cruelty and sour taste
I am tired of every spike of pain my hand creates.
Spare me of this disaster
Spare me yet I have no master.
Who the **** in this world will spare me of the truth?
I keep on bitting from life's poisonous fruit.
Who'd spare me of the true face of earth?
Who'll love the unlovable?
We're afraid of the truth
Yet we're unpredictable.
Who'll spare us all from the war?
If we're all our own murderers at the core?
Spare me I'm already dying
Why should we find the truth if we're all lying?

Pick any ride you like
Do you want to go to the one in the distance?
Or this overly colored one...look it’s so bright!
The other one’s too far away...look the bright one’s now turquoise.
*
Oh look there’s a black rollecoaster... but it seems so broken down
I guess it was cool before but now it’s all rusty
Maybe we should go to that fast food shack all our friends are around
*
Oh no it’s raining all the neon lights are going off!
The buildings and rides  are falling apart!
Except for that black rollercoaster’s ticket shack
run there it’s safer
Why aren’t there any tickets...why is it full of alcoholic liquor?
Lighting strikes again and the floor pulls us in
I guess we will be part of this attraction when nobody will come tomorrow morning.

Skin
Too much skin.
Too much space.
Too many flashing lights.
Epilepsy.
Too much skin.
Carnal wishes without discretion.
Killing me.
Too much skin around me.
Too much skin for me too see.
Smoothly.
Lights pulsating under the layers.
I want to feel skin other than mine.
I've gotten tired of wasting time.
Coliding and condoning myself for not looking better.
For not making other layers of skin want mine the way I want them.
No-one particularly.
Tonight I just want to feel loved and I just ain't enough.
Skin.
Kilometers that my fingers want to run over.
Skin stretching over structured bones, taking the hues of the blood passing through.
How does it feel you fool?
To have someone love you thoroughly?
From your veins to nose cartilages ?
How does it feel tell me?
Incoherently I'm thinking if I can find love in my own skin.
Too used to it so negative.
Tell me how does it feel?
To have skin touch yours that is not evil?
How does it feel to not hate the skin you're touching?
How does it feel to love feeling?
Skin.
Too much skin.
Too much space.
Epilepsy.
How would  one's skin ever survive loving me?

I live in a world of encrusted lies.
In a world of hellos that never come again after goodbyes
.
A world where they say you can't do anything right before you're worthless
.
I live in a world of constant distress.
A world where we choose hahas over *******
A world where we wait for red to turn into blue
.
I live in a world of worries
Where nobody gives a **** unless they're inside your story
.
A world of pretty lies and unspoken truths
A world with philosophy questioning our never ending route
.
What's a lie they say
Because they say at least one everyday.
But they're good aren't they?
I've been wrapped up in them for the past decade.
I'll drown in them by the time I'm 30.
Die with them when my coffin waits for me.

I sometimes wonder if I can compare feelings.
Can I compare the power of when you find a song you love and dance to it 'till the sweat reaches your eyes to the power of the sadness when something you so much loved, dissappears and tears streak down your already glass rose cheeks?
Can I compare the pureness of a laugh to the pureness of a sigh?
Can I compare the "letting yourself be a little selfish" of being proud of yourself to "letting yourself be a little selfish" of letting yourself cry for no reason at all?
Can I compare the surprising relief of the moment right after I finish a poem to the surprising scare of the moment I caress my head just to see a handful of hair fall out?
Can I compare the strength of love to the strength of hate?
I think i can

Virginia was right!
I want to be a poet,
I want to be a lover.
But most importantly...
I wish to be poetry,
İ wish to be loved.

I noticed
a girl with scissor earrings on the bus,
What an amusing tiny anecdote ha!
Two more in different intervals reading in their seats...
(lucky bastarrds who get to seat and to read in these hellish buses)
I digress, one was reading Osho and the other a book called "The relic".
I stare,
that's what I do.
Always.
Stare and laugh then wait for reactions.
Lately the amount of green eyes around me have made me unfaithful to the 2% promise.
Also every crystal blue has been painful.
-please don't watch me unless your gaze is lighter than mine-
There's delight to this dull compression.
We leave crying,
we come back jubilant in sorrow.
What generational wander!
I've been staring and deafening myself to the attentions of others,
Thinking every word addressed may as well be a deathwish.
Give up, you don't want to argue with me...at least not today.
I promised myself a 9 blossomed on my skin, as if mold has inherently carved itself into me.
I'm keeping myself awake for that promise now.
Once it's over I'll promise myself some other futile dream.
Life has been...tame.

Drowning in ignorance.
I've given up on myself.
I try to breathe out of bubbles of assurance.
But I die with every breath.
I've decided I want to be a spectator to my own pain
The outsider grieving over a theatrical game.
If I was mature enough maybe I'd laugh
However I'm just an orphaned stranger.
A child taking care of its mother.
And hahahaha isn't it funny we've heard the same story over and over again
Nothing new, everyone's sad right?
But nobody's sad over the same pain
We're self-sufficient only at night.
Have I reached that stereotypical age when all you want to do is sleep?
Oh and how society loves to call this self-discovery.
So I just chose Drowning.
Or dying.
To fulfill the purpose of our perfectly functional society.

Crystallise my hair, my skin, my lips
Let me float, let me drift
The water's color don't matter as long as the sky's blue
My mindset's fine without thinking about anyone
There's no you
There's no me either
It's just the water and the crystals that formed all over me
With this thin shinny rock layer, I can finally see
And I see the world faceted, cut in every place
It never faded, there's a crystal on everyone's face.
Everyone has a face for me and another face for someone else
How long will it take until we can crystallise sense?
They seem to all have a crystal in their mind
But I have one on my skin, my hair and my lips
My thoughts can finally all collide
My hopes can all sink.
Let this crystallise every part of me
Maybe someday I'll be free.

There’s a spider climbing up the stairs of my heart
Just to pour its venom in
And I wanna break him apart
But i’ll just do what everyone else did to me.

Gravitația situației
Poate că eu nu înțeleg.
Dormitul e o distracție.
Că mă ascund nu neg.
Într-o constantă rotație.
Eu nu fac turul complet.
Plutesc poate prea mult în ultimul timp.
Distruge-mă dacă poți.
Noaptea se transformă în anotimp.
Și ne primește pe toți.
Eu nu mai stau trează.
Fac parte din delincvenții nocturni.
Ne uităm la lună și așteptăm următoarea faza.
Ne uităm la stele și la cerul bătrân.
Se pare că a devenit o pasiune acestă tortură diurnă.
Dar nu pare așa rău când suntem împreună.
Deși "treaz".
E greu de obținut zilele acestea.
O să rămân fără răgaz.
Dacă mă las prizonieră în noaptea grea.

as you look out the window with your deep set eyes you tell me how you think the earth's breathing if you focused enough.
ironically enough I've always seen that.
pretty broken doll tell your jokes and stories once more so I could draw another smile on my face.
teach me how you do it... Wait I think I've been doing it myself for too long.
I tell you to play me something on the drums you so angrily enchant.
Play me something so the vibration coming off the drums would wake me up again.
I sit down on the always broken bench waiting for you to sit next to me.
But you always stay behind hands on the bench almost wanting to take the bench away.
I wish I wouldn't have to look up as you speak.
"could you be my lookout this summer?"
"I would sure if I'm still here"
the pretty lines on your jaw drop as you think it through
I'm leaving honey, what does it mean to you?
"you can't, you need to stay here for me just one more year"
I tell you I can't though I'd like to tell you that I would love to stay one more year just to come back everyday for you to tell me what cracked you up and what broke you down.
I'd stay so maybe one day our eyes would be allowed to look at eachother.
but i tell you I can't because there's no way I could
and as I say it I'd like to shed a tear but I've trained myself to well
As I say it I look up once more to see the pretty lines get sharper almost like they've accepted.
Trust you trust me don't you?
With your love interest, music taste, sexuality, drugs and life stories
As the bell rings we hide behind questions.
Are we both afraid of the same thing?
Couldn't be right?
You're wanted I'm not.
Correction
I want you, you don't.
Bad influence
It's you who made me want to turn my guts upside down for a drop of the same hallucinating I have every night in my dreams.
But it's you who gives me hope and despair.
Soft spoken we'll never be close to that.
Concave destroyed lover
I can't compare.
Do you feel these things anymore or have you given them up to the overdose?
Would you laugh at my sloppy poetry and prose?
You probably would.
Senseless *******
You know fixing you is a desire of mine
But humans can't get fixed love
Not by individuals at least.
And everyday as I tell you your eyes are beautiful for their central heterochromia
Everyday as you don't believe it so I need to make up another description.
I'll enjoy it and know that you're well enough.
I'm probably inexsitent in your mutilated brain
Since our worlds are far apart
But honey we're separetely the same.
We just never made contact.
And now I know as I saw the tears curdle up in your eyes
That maybe just maybe you're not as lost as I thought you'd be.

Tata îmi spune ca mi se atrofiază mușchii în mâna stângă
Așa că,
De noaptea ielelor nu o să mă mai mișc, o să-mi adoarmă corpul -lasă-mă să cad și nu mă mai aduna!
O să las ura ielelor să mă umple, să mă poarte cu solstițiul departe.
Tata tot îmi spune eu îmi dau urechile să le ia ielele, să le ia ielele.
Le dau lor corpul meu care zdruncină gânduri și suferințe,
Le dau lor venele și sângele care car alene globule, vise și cântece pentru sânziene.
Le voi da lor dragostea ce ți-o port, s-o ducă departe, să calce marea în picioare cu ea, să-i înflorească valurile vara ca să înghită țărmul toamna cu dragostea mea -o s-o dau lor, o s-o dau ielelor.
Le voi da cuvintele scrise și nespuse să le lase închise în codrii, să le ardă în focurile culmii.
Le voi da lor tot, vă dau tot ielelor!

Corpul ăsta rupt de timp și atât de tânăr, luați-l ielelor și făceți-vă lume
O coastă zâmbet pentru voi, ielelor!
Ochiul meu pentru cruzime, onorați-l ielelor!
Eu vasul pentru ura voastră, voi aduceți-mă de îndată acasă.

Dragostea asta pentru nimeni și pentru tot,
Luați-o voi ielelor!
Lichiditatea ei pusă în sticlă- poate hrăni pământul cât mor
Fulgeră și tună în mine timpul nerămas pentru dragoste, sânzienelor vă implor luați-o și ascundeți-o.

Mintea aceasta marmură de alamă, o povară pentru mine rogu-vă de-o aruncați.
Sau de-o păstrați ielelor, puneți-o la rece, să nu mai plece, să nu mai sufere.
Fie-vă sânge și sabie de-o luați.

Ielelor de noaptea voastră eu vă dau tot ce sunt eu,
Gură. Aer. Plămâni.
Șoapte. Atingeri. Înghițituri.
Mâini. Vorbe. Visuri.
Genunchi. Coate. Ocolișuri.
Ochi. Lacrimi. Sânge. și Podișuri.
Luați ce puteți duce și acolo unde mergeți, acolo să le distrugeți.

Anticipation and all its fulfillment
Expectations and their dissapointment.
Laying in the bathtub on my birthday.
Like a fool.
And laughing sincerely
Scared of further living
Letting someone else love for me.
Because dreams are too vivid.
I don't like you I just need your warmth.
For now and probably for a month.
And it's so enchanting
How I'm so careless but so scared
So reckless but so restrained.
Too young to be able to understand.
How it all functions,
Young and flirtatious.
Keeping the rest to myself because anything else is a negation.
Broken promises and broken bones,
On loud nights when I drink nonalchoolic champagne.
Heat raves and the sky falls,
I'm 16 and alive.
How did I make it?
Young and clueless,
Life's a movie and I'm awfully egotistical.
Undoubtedly hypocritical.
Speaking to all the clouds and ignoring the voices around.
Baby, I tell them,  "ill never fall back into love"
I'm an idiot plus the stars said love's just a social construct.
An experiment.
So i stood there in the dark,  no water in the bathtub just me, listening to chuckles in my room celebrating my birthday.

Drinking CocaCola seems better
Than eating Apple pie.
Maybe i have the wrong mentality in the wrong weather
Bringing my feet down feels wrong when I’m so high.
I’m giving up you know
Everything is repeating itself
Memories, experience and chances that I blow
Inside my little bubble **** of course I don’t need help.
I don’t think there has ever been anything wrong with me
I sliced my ankle open the other day
I look in the mirror and hate is all I see
But **** what my mind can say.
Nobody sees out of their cliques
That’s why I travel in between their piles of thoughts
My mind feels
But I lost.
**** it all
For hope is limited
A wake up call
To everyone I’ve ever met.
I’m leaving
I’m feeling
I’m killing
My mindset

Displace
Misplace
Replace
Me.
With another.
Or perhaps something entirely different.
Don't you get tired of yourself?
The scabs on my knees and elbows crack at the feeling of despair.
They bleed out red and green thread, love and envy for the undead.
This is just an escape,
Another rusting coping mechanism thrown out to the pile.
Don't you ever get tired of yourself?
The routinical sequences living inside my head would agree,
She's exhausted
She's tired of me.

Luna își arata fața întoarsă
Eu aștept primăvara roasă
De crude adevăruri și ochi întredeschişi.
Mi-am spus că-ți voi da 2 săptămâni să miști,
Că până pe 14 februarie îmi voi recupera afecțiunea efemeră și mirosul distins
Care mă adormea atât de violent.
Mama făcuse deja pariuri că ne distrugem,
E vina mea, am avut prea multă încredere în mine sincer.
Rupe-mă de realitate, nu eram prea trează înainte
Să scânteieze cerul a regrete vorbite,
Împielițând vântul ăsta crud.
Căci oricât de mult aș spera la primăvară, el tot bate și eu rămân...
Înfrigurată de furie înlocuind o fire,
Impertinentă oricum.
Am avut dreptate bilateral,
Nu ne-am putut păstra.
Am și vrut asta.
*** era să trăim orice altceva decât o altă banală suferință?
*** era să avem speranță?
Devastator probabil,
Strigător la cer!
Pune-mi la loc mâinile care au rămas pironite undeva la tine în creier căci doresc amar să mă trezesc  vie.

eating the inside of my lip
and uncovering my back in the moonlight.
I walk the streets nonchalantly.
No hearing.
Just sight.
And taste, the taste of the inside of my lip bleeding.
I was raised to be just and to keep my eyes on the sole thing that interests me.
Meaning everything.
So it's all I do.
I sit and stare unwillingly.
Keeping track of the eyes that read me and the ones that are just passing by.
Considering.
I'm built around the social construct of being lonely.
But not really.
I'm losing the fancy words I used to fight for just like I'm losing myself.
As I leave more me on my bed than anywhere else.
I shaved today to feel a hint of self interest.
It was completely useless.
I couldn't give a **** about myself with hair or without but that's just too much to confess.
I've been trying to sing more and dance and give into the so called creativity I harness.
It's all a lie.
It's all a distraction.
It's something I want to call motivation but can't.
Am i meant to rot in the lifestyle of a movie miserable human?
Walking the streets and spazzing on my bed.
With my dreams swept out of my head.
I look in three separate mirrors everyday.
Who am I and why am I not dead?
And that's the million dollar question.
Because somehow the moment everything collapses we turn to the forbidden.
But either way I digress I'd be too afraid to do it to myself.
I've found billion other methods that make me feel that they match the situation.
**** this poem.
It's another excuse for my insomnia.
Another excuse to justify why I woke up at 11 just to fall onto another bed.
All the memories I've collected, play me such a theatre show,
And I watch wondering if they're the dream from last night or real life.
And it makes me question again.
Who am I and why am I not dead?
Not because I wanna die necessarily but because at times I'm rather lucky.
Like the universe repays me.
Like the universe cried a single tear of mercy and out of all the people it rained on me.
And it still seems like I'm ungrateful.
The universe is mistaking my head for someone else who maybe instead would know how to use that luck efficiently.
I am no such mastermind.
I've lost my book based intelligence when I was 11 and gained my eyes when I was 13.
Ironically.
So who am I and why am I not dead?
Living a paradox withing irony itself,
I'm handmade by multiple clichés.
Or that's what I think.
My dreams seemed nice until people tell me they're just a fantasy.
Oh but look at me, 16 and complaining about dreams.
I'd end up a great housekeeper I'd tell myself though nothing stays clean.
I feel old.
Old in a way I've never felt.
Like by the time I'd reach 30 I'd already be dead.
Or maybe again,
Is it all on my head?
Adolescent scent in the times of complete desolation.
I stand and I don't understand.
Who am I and why am I not dead?

fatalism și reavăn.
reavăn și fatalism.
n-am mai scris,
n-am mai scris.
mi-a mers gura prea puțin și acum mi-e capu-n groapă.
mă soarbe Oltul ?
Rămân o cruce ortodoxă, stingheră pe marginea drumului, îndoită de mașini în depășire.
reavăn... e reavăn după ploaie și îmi intră în vene.
fatalism slav și decăderea omului, cui i-am mai dat urechile mele?
asta nu sunt eu aici,
nu eu aud, nu eu simt.
ace și mâini atinse, drumuri scurse, reavăn și fatalism.
da n-am mai scris!
nu, nu, pentru că nu ***!
nu în București, nu în tramvai, nu in scaunul din dreapta, nu cu mâna lui tata strânsă pe volan, nu cu piciorul scuturându-mi în spital.
un chist pe ovar, un folicul hormonal habar n-am;tot e un reavăn tot e fatalism și eu iar n-am scris.
poate că nu mai am de ce.
viața e film destul nu mai are nevoie de scenarist, viața m-a depășit uite, e self-sustaining!
Tata a zis că i-am frânt inima când i-am zis să mă ia acasă la 2 ani, ce isteric.
Nu mai vreau să aud, nu mai vreau să simt atât de greu din cer curgându-mi la tălpi,
rămân reavăn și fatalism și nu mai scriu nimic, nimic.
reavăn sărută buzele astea - petale de iris lăsate în soare!
reavăn, reavăn sărută trupul ăsta și mintea ce duc oriunde în nicăieri!
reavăn, sărută fatalismul ăsta infantil și torturat și dă-mi înapoi tot ce a fost și poate fi eu!

i feel like air
    - unnoticed-
    but
    -vital-
     cold and warm
no color
   (inhale)
   (exhale)
  forever

lips embered
sizzling awaitance
where are you when i seek to soothe
ache
?
skin splintered
time speaks to me incredulous
i quiver
do you want to watch
?
this lustrous mist
this autumnal whisper
i transpose it on my body.
tighs a thundering wind gust, back arched to catch the rain.
it hurts when im not my own, it hurts when  no-one can hold
this pulverised alienation.
trade me some patience.
you would,
wouldn't you
?
this world does not exist beyond our conscious perception
lay your head down onto this wishbone heart, onto this carbonised solar plexus.
don't you crave this silence?
don't you?

i
give
up




~am i too strong to die or too weak to live? ~

She says I sound like the flavour she smokes every now and then.
Velvet hookah smoke.
She's afraid, she's not.
I guess I am pretty frightening.
She says you're too real for me.
So different from what I imagined you to be.
She says my life's going too well for me to be negative.
And I laugh.
It's 4:39 and I want nobody.
Not a soul, not à hand to touch me.
People are tiring.
With their words and repetitive situations,
I seldom rather silence so I don't become a répétition of myself.
I take her outside and hand her a slim lighting it up blindly.
She smokes and stops talking.
"give me one"  so I take the cigarette and take it to my chest and out my nose.
Such a surprised grimace "you know how to inhale nicotine huh?"
I take one more and tell her I now understand why people smoke ever so desperately.
The placebo vice of normativity.
Smoking is like meeting people.
Seemingly good, foolish and totally unhealthy.
I'm tired of this patterned living.
She says how can your mind go to so many places?
Said that she could drown in my thoughts and I'd still find the simplicity of others fascinating.
Which I am not denying.
My mind's à pretty big ballroom.
With lacquered black floors perfectly made to reflect sound.
And she says she's scared.
Scared that I'm too complex,
Scared because I belong in too many places.
I tell her she's just confused and restless.
I tell her she should think of me less and let the nicotine in her body rest.
And I do confess.
That whole night was meaningless.

My tears are cold tonight just like the rain
I've lost hope just like the clouds lose their temper.
And as the water from the sky pours itself off my house through the drain.
I **** my only helper.

My tears are cold tonight like the sea under the moon
My tears were brewed by my memories to be used for what will come soon.

My tears are cold tonight unlike the usual when they're always warm and calming.
My tears are cold tonight so maybe I'll be frozen when I need to wake up in the morning.

My tears are cold tonight under my roof.
My tears are cold tonight and I have no proof.
My tears are cold and I keep on fighting,
Desperately warming myself up as I watch the lighting.

And my tears are cold tonight
But I no longer put up a fight