°
A shard of a body
That's what I was at 8
I remember knowing I was watched.
Never when I smiled, only when I endured.
Acid words, their silver impact
Midas made gold, so my skin must've shimmered.
A remnant of soul,
Waiting for twilight so I can crawl
Within myself and rest for the night.
From 7 to 9 I used to beg for love,
That's why I have so much pride today.
Infancy meant smothering the floor with my ****** knees and begging,
Pleading like a fly to a swatter, to be saved, to be forgiven.
I used to think to- myself "mercy is so hard to work for".
At 10 I took to nightly silence,
A knock at the door meant a visit and five meant I was the outsider.
Waiting for the neighbours to glance at each other while I was counting roaches, dead on the stairs.
A scrap of mind,
When I still thought god loved me, I used to pray,
To be taken and never given away.
To be given my knees back in exchange for me.
I used to ask to be given mind if death wasn't ready to take so young.
But church was empty and I was never accompanied just held by the hand.
A shard of body, a remnant of soul, a scrap of mind
I'd tell the child we've been dead and we're now gods.
She'd believe me,
She'd believe anything.
I should've killed you, child.
It would've been faster, a respectful execution.
I love you child.
Tonight you may be worth only one tear
But you have cried enough for me.

și noi vorbim vorbim
de azi până mâine
râdem murim,
cu sau fără companie.
dar noi vorbim.
iar când dormim
atmosfera miroase  a mine și tine.
și cu toate dezamăgirile,
golim rapid iubirile
și ne regăsim pretutindeni.
tot vorbim,vorbim
la nesfârșit, cât de teluric
visele ce le primim
cu sau fără merit
ne șoptesc șovăielnic
că nu vor să-mi achit
ura pentru tine.

gravat între degete
e un simțământ, o dominanță
al meu de deținut, al meu de păstrat
ochii mei o sfioasă prelingere, sub limbă picură, gheață
vreau să eman, vreau să atrag orice suflare pe care îmi pun ochii-
ai pierdut, punct lovit.
am gravat între degete,
ce e în vis ajunge și în realitate iar undeva mâna ta alege, privirea curge
pe mine.
hai caută, ce am de gând să-ți dau cu atâta grație
arată-mi căldură să simți *** mă topesc, *** băltesc de dor, *** implor o admirație.
te rog atinge ce nu a mai fost de atins, vreau să simt asurzitor cât de mult sunt dorită
nimic mai mult - o clipă de compromis.
strânge tot ce poate fi eu să nu mai respir
împachetează coastele acestea într-o gura de aer împrumutată, ține-o suvenir.
ia-mă cu totul nu mai vreau să simt eu, te rog.
înlocuiește această uzură de zi cu zi cu o obsesie demnă de urmărit, vreau să simt *** mă vrei în disperare- caută-mă
ce contează motivația, mângâie acest schelet inedit și neted, iartă-mă că doar atât *** fi.
un parazit ce-ți vrea atingerea pentru un moment de liniște.

The face of melancholy
Sometimes all you do is remind me,
How walls are enclosing
Life.
How far away must the hope be,
Towards which always we...
Run yet stray away, I might.
Over-rule my own self in this bathroom,
Give out my last exhale before the carnations bloom,
Watch this vein of mine become a river, a sliver, a rune...
To sicken.
I lay my youthful worries on the ground to rule some other roots some other fool,
While I dig away a place to rest and pray that I don't drool  on this placeholder of life to let the lilacs bloom in mockery.
By the time I wake up I will arrest the awful need to return and make the grass my sheets and the bulbs my pillow,
Dig further and hope I never reach an end below.
I pray I am forgotten quickly and never searched for remains, I pray to never watch you suffer ever again
And so I'd try to be the soil beneath the life remaining,
Some mournful quick loss to lessen the tension, to plumpen the entertainment.
A casket made of flowers, stuck to the pavement,
A breath unshaken silently kept.

§
I wish to be bones
Undoused by this vinegar scented shirt
Alone, a spring in this bed, a splinter in the headboard.
Writing love poems is so facile
Easily infatuated, I fall in love so heavy
Detailed manuscriptic, I'm pulling.
A love that isn't mine to be keeping.
A love that only I'm loving.
Like always cursed being.
The snow underneath me won't be melting,
Anytime soon.
Martyrdom crinkles and still I'm the one suffering.
What's not to be working I do it to myself lately.
Eyelashes catching ice, sleeping is my demise.
Snowflakes to be kept on the tips of my black gloves, I'm fighting for myself or at least I try.
Should've known desperation was no love, not worth it but my
Heart is lingering in stomach acid, cuz I've buried myself so deep, I'm crawling.
Out of bed every morning sickly to the kitchen table promising that I'll be cleaning up
Myself off the floor and sheets and never feel like this
Ever again.

Am înghițit cerneală.
De pe vârful degetului în timp ce scriam despre *** îți place că mă uit la tine pe o pagină, c-un bilet, dintr-un caiet pe care-l car după mine infernal.
N-am simțit un gust anume.
Am simțit obsesie.
*** scriu, fragile linii pe foaie fără viață
Despre tine și despre *** înot sub gheață.
Despre *** rămân fără aer dar nu se vede pe față.
Am înghițit cerneală când mi-am scuturat stiloul și mi-am împroșcat ochii cu albastrul cuvintelor din somn,
Pe care le rostesc doar ușilor.
Să fie ferecate pentru oricine, să se deschidă doar pentru mine.
Eu scârțâi dar plutesc în gânduri rupte din grădini botanice fermecate
Regina nopții și socul rupte și aranjate.
Pentru tine în șoapte dulci - amărui de dragoste.
Inocent otrăvitoare mi-ai dat obrajilor culoare.
În ochii tăi ce smaraldie desfătare
Ce rana arzătoare.
Ruptă meschin din zare.
Cu cerneala pe limbă îți *** spune că te simt acasă, un tricou purtat înseamnă minim două zile de somn nicio zvâcnire falsă.
Mi-e frică să strănut ceața ta afară,
Să rămân fără
Tine în somn,
Limbă și cerneală.

I woke up I thought
I woke up I thought it was summer
The foil veiling my window making me think the sun's brighter.
What a ******!
A few hours later I go downstairs in the kitchen, fooled that to be rid of anxienty all I have to do is work harder.
And I did up until my mother,
Made my shoulders shudder
Only if the silence lasted a little longer.
It didn't so I tell her about a friend that's been way too friendly  and how I have other priorities.
A girl maybe, I told her, now, she's about to ruin it.
She breathes in: so heavy, one hand next to the stove and one by her hip she tells me.
"stop and take a look at yourself"
Talks to me about the risk of showing myself to such a girl,
Asks if I'd want the aftermath on my conscience forever.
"Ignore her" , she whispers, "let's talk about you!"
"You find people you think are interesting,then dissect them to their last molecule, get what you need, then leave them - desolated, confused, searching for anyone to replace you."
She said I damage them so good they'll never not see me in the people they're searching," no-one will ever be you again"
She backtracks-"don't target this girl, you know what you do, don't be selfish and give her hollow promises."
Cruel of me to want to feel something, cruel of me to want to nurture my loveless mind after years of starving.
Not my right she says, to waste people's time, "you're killing".
I'm shaking but I'm loving it she tells me exactly what I've been dreaming!
That I'm a sociopath, the most attractive sin.
She scoffs and says she'll try to be to my understanding, and slips into some analogy
" unlike others nowadays - pretty cover books with nothing inside, you're a hybrid, you're a blank cover-- let others color it, make them think they have a choice and validity before they start reading."
Accaparating, dense, manipulator, heart-eating.
I hope she's proud of me
I hope my paternal lack of empathy is showing
I hope it's obvious that my talents are natural, hereditary
There are very few instances when it's not them I'm blaming.
But I halt to a stop and ponder what is it that I'm craving,
Because whatever it is, I always aquire then never use it.
My mother sings about my graciously selfish bendings.
I thought the impression of the sun glowing in the final moments of November was a sign for better,
A sign that I will no longer
Live in phases, forget myself along the linings, writhe away like warmth amongst the wind.
So many words have been said, I no longer know if it is me that is living.

§
Mercy shouldn't warm me up
The way it does sometimes
The way it disgusts me.
Shredding the skin on the chords unknowingly
To feel something.
Showering these calloused tips hoping,
My touch to be satin, my voice unbreaking
Mercy shouldn't taste so sweet as it's realising its toxin.
Loom over me, tell me I'm suffering, tell me you agree occasionally.
Hollow out my eye sockets burn my gums they're all aching.
The laced up corset of my ribs is breaking.
All these playful discussions feel like my family's selling me, all this misplaced care, this sporadic goodwill.
Maximise my lifespan make sure I don't die until
I fulfill the system of profanity while grinning.
I am produce I am porcelain I am me.
To be sold, to be passed on, inherited.
What a great joke I'm gatekeeping.

™️
this ****** hair-dye
coating my abdomen and clavicles
mulberry leaking off my
body, so ******.
I feel so regal
I feel lathered in stares,
Here in this corner.
So shamefully shameless.
mulberry escaping my hair strands and flowing down my bellybutton over this mons ***** and down my knees.
bathed in violet dreams.
am i this body or am i just unclean?

if I drink enough beer with my dad it'll compensate for all the years he wasn't here,
if I bake enough cakes with my mom i'll forget I'd never forgive her.
Just like if I had 9000$ no-one would ever see my face again.
Fugees echo in my bathroom, they smell of anger when the song ends.
And now I'm brand new.
Water sits on me like a disease,
And now that I shaved I can see how that bike bit me.
The scars on my legs laugh bitterly,
How could I not see?
That I'm the flu within me.
I'm guilty.
For the insomnia, the tears
For the kid in me with no freedom, for the fears.
I've made and broken my own dreams,
Just how things are meant to be.
Timeline healthy.
Life will eat me,
Whole and leave no crumbs.
Wipe the table too, you eat well when you behave well.
And so I'll die at my own hands.
Forgiving yet so ravaged,
Desperate to touch
Some other version of me.
I'll die how I always wanted it to be,
by my own means
slowly
wrapped in the smears of superficiality,
I've clung to, solely, to survive being me.
Hollowed out but never empty
The only thing left to caress,
Is the shell I'll become to protect what remains of myself
Salted smile scented happiness.

I found a way to hold my thumb against my palm so it feels like I'm holding a hand
I read your love letter again exactly one month to the day after you've given it to me,
I'll call it fate.
I told my friend how I wrote about my parents getting my body repatriated-she shuddered but I just blinked.
My mom came with me to watch,
How I gulp down a tequila shot then wash it off with lemon beer-
How I can't take it anymore.
I'm loving this rain, it brands the solitude away from my brain and into my heart, I know I'm meant to be alone.
I'm loving this tightness in my chest, this willow gilded pain I'm glinting
Taking my clothes off so that I'm touching all that could be me, so I'm dreaming it's yours.

I miss the Istanbul mists
And Bucharests's dissapointments
I watch the street's misfits,
And measure their arrogances.
****, I'm salivating...
For these sporadic romances.
You see it's raining now and I don't expect abeyances.
Wish the rain would sing me back into sleeping.
Greecian exhalation
And American expectation
I'm living in a fragment.
Illegal teleportation
My withdrawals have become desperation,
No more time to lament.
The scent of international alienation
It aches and it digs
The immortal veneration
Of all these useless schemes.
I exert into mindless illusions
And pray to yield its fruits
But these are altiloquent pretentions
And real life seems so crude.
I become cosmical equation
A simple empyrean constellation
And continue breathing solely in my imagination.

At 23:28
Is the last bus running
I feel the cold around me,
But Ive no time to hate.
The weather is splendid,
The streets flooded,
The bass booming,
The rain pouring,
I'm dumbfounded.
Why did I leave the concert so early?
I'm paranoid, I'm going.
Taking the bus hoping it'll take me home
And if it doesn't I'll walk I've no shame of my own.
I did walk at the end anyway,
Ankle deep in water while others were hiding
I'd call myself stupid if it wasn't so extraordinary,
Drenched to the bone, the rain so hereditary.
I was singing along then I was running.
Home if I find it, alone while the wind is blowing.
It was the prime act and for the first time I wasn't playing,
The antagonist,
The villain,
The hated,
The worst,
The ghost.
I was simply alive.
The water in my hair,
The razor sharp wind on my cold skin,
My ciggaretes destroyed and drowning in my pocket.
There was nothing that could stop me,
From finally living.

Do know
That when I put that ciggarete on my soft lips
I've given up
To the world's blunts and hits
I've changed my motto to **** everything.
Do know that when I inhale the devil's fragrance
I'd probably be madly in love with him
Like I've always been.
Bathing in the world of what they call sin
I'm loving it.
But yes
,
Do know that when that ciggarete is smoked
I've probably put down all my rules and walls
Probably decided that life wouldn't end if I try its finest poisons.

My swollen lip
I bit it when I was freezing.
That one rib throbbing from underneath me
Yours are moving graciously,
Creasing the skin between the bowed up package of 24-
Ribs wrapped in my clothes since it was hot enough to make summer in my room in this almost November.
I sigh.
Naturally we talk about whatever you'd like to hear from me.
Nothing too personal of course but I'm listening.
*** and boys and *** and boys and the ****** of falling in love with feminine energy.
So innocent is the love of woman I bet we're synching.
I stare at your nose as I blabber about a rethorical woman I'd be afraid to eat out in case I won't satisfy her.
You gleam in confidence discoursing me about it.
The words of woman, the touch of enchantress.
I give up on continuing, ending in something about my self hatred instead of *****.
The earth tremors know I ache to be loved and to love it.
I told you too.
It isn't me, but anonimity that's keeping me so neutral but frantically ******.
"you're so interesting..."
Thanks let's talk about clitoral ******* and prostate training, while I cry about not intending.
While I long to be dreamed about and lusted over.
While I remain bold in my silence.
What a skill to be given.
I bit my lip when it was freezing,
At the thought of ******* some sense into me.

Neón lines on broken machinery
Warm showers and cold lingerie.
Neon lights repel and embrace me
Warm showers are just bath wannabes
Skyscrapers at night
Irking the moon
No humans in sight
The surface is cool.
Neon lights can't warm it up
They're just pretty to look at.
But I swallow them up slowly so maybe
I'll be considered holy.
And I enter my warm shower, only warm place I have left.
I let it combine the neon lights with the water.
So I can die slowly in the fluid neon and rest.

I should move to a brand new city
And teach myself how to die.
Just like Mistki sang
I'm here again.
I've been so many people in so many places I'm tired to ressurect.
The motion and the stumbles
Have gotten me tired.
And now I sit in bed or in the backyard.
Listening to my head or my mom mar.
Me, no-one else.
Telling me how she'll let me know what you can sense,
From your first sniff.
A toothpick and a q-tip and she burns it.
Brings it close to my nostril and tells me to snort it.
And oh is it hurting.
My ear my brain my sinuses begging.
She says ******* is 5 times the feeling
And Im so concerned, I only half confessed to **** why is she showing this to me?
Ah it's another trap I see.
I ask where did she get it?
How would you know mommy?
Have you done it?
Tell me I'll keep it a secret I promise.
"no"
I've had friends die from it.
Oh it's that type of trap, it was anticipative.
Another warning turned life story
Another life story incomplete because I'm not deserving.
Another life another city.
She does it to me, and I become it.
This poem was supposed to be about dissapearing not my lineage.
Now it's both.
A declaration that I won't continue it.
I promise.

I
to draw blood
and
let me sing
hollow words
of a
hollow body

II
to reek of havoc
and stain with chaos
I wish your hands
-liquid silver,
would melt and
burn off
my nerves
as you
caress my head

III
silently
all in the flutter
of a moth's wings.
picture me
reincarnated
through your touch
musing & murmuring
this

IV
fragile mind
this
restless time

Bobby pins and curls
All the dances and twirls
Lie to me would you blinding light?
Lie to me so maybe I can forget it all tonight
But I didn’t deserve that luxury yet did I?
I tried to make myself pretty for you
But I wasn’t enough for your picky eye
So you turned my radiant pink heart blue.

Call me we both are just as lonely
Call me I miss the happy me
Call me I am over your drunken laughter
Call me right before your enlightened disaster.
Call me, you forsaken sin
Call me when ice lives inside my skin
Call me when you feel lonely within
Call me when you know what I worth and mean.
Call ME....

Six months at best
I counted them myself
Nothing that this doe gaze can manufacture
Nothing this sunlit glaze can save
6 months to indent...
myself,
into some love before it gets taken away
again.
Spring in ******* January;
Flutter my lashes see what you can do for me.
These honeypot eyes can't soften my demise
when you're gone.
I don't want to leave you roaming
in a song.
I know my eyes will be the ones to take me away,
when I'm alone.
To confine me, solitaire,to ensure you're not there
anymore...
Fragranced lullaby that puts me to is that another place will build another me so I can understand how to love and how to breathe.
House is playing games on me,
Pipes keep on popping, blood won't flow coherently.
I think life might be cheating on me.

Cold walls.
I don't have much to do.
Just keeping my teeth clean and the sky blue.
I should give up on these calls.
Stay in the words leave the music.
Too much aspiration for someone who's fading.
Just keep on hoping.
Going head first won't ever hurt my physique.
But it'd scar my breathing.
Escalating and dropping.
Colliding into the form of my eyelashes falling.
But i ain't got much to do.
Just keep on looking pretty and never stop defying.
After all defiance makes them all feel guilty.
Ain't it?
Look at the crumbs of the older generation leaving behind suicide notes and hair fallen in the drain painting the baths green.
I ain't got much to do but live with the curious ideas and hopes that'd I'd see people again... Useless.
Just like me... The embodiment of summer rain. Nourishing for its moments of life but draining and drying the land once the sun's back up.
Summer rain.
I ain't got much to do really.
Just follow the course with no objections or passion.
Staticly making my way through life.
I'm too young to be thinking these things.
I should be there expressing what I fight for and laughing in the crowds.
I'm too young to be this.
I've given myself more years than I should've.
But I ain't got much to do left.
Just keeping myself alive.

I think I'm out of words
I think my art became dull
I feel like the two swords
Just gave up fighting for the crown.
Is it that there's nothing to write about?
Or just plain boredom?
If I'll have to count
I think it's a week until I stop forever.
What will I do without writing my heart out everywhere?
I won't care, I wouldn't bare
Without the only thing keeping me alive I could collapse anywhere.
Picking me up would be too much of a weight
And I had enough  people giving up themselves for my sake.
I'll wait...And wait
Maybe I could pick up myself one day

What am I to do with the peonies that've sprung,
In my lung,
Since you last kissed me?
My veins thawed from spring and your touch I'm becoming-
The lovers card flipped along with the fool debating beginnings.

I wanna live my young years
Screaming at people across the terminals,
Waking up in train stations
Loving to live among others.
I wanna live in the romanticism of the teenage years.
I wanna get wasted with strangers
And sing on the boulevards.
What the **** kind of good girl am I?
What the **** kind of intimidating hypocrite am I?
What the ****?
Time is passing by me while I watch it from my top bunk
From my bathtub
From my phone camera.
Only if I could say I ate my years like the other kids,
"I smoked my years away" or "drugs ate at my sanity"
No.
It's just the glamour veil.
I watched my years
I didn't eat or smoke them.
I stood by and watched them fly and now I feel old.

Make sure the doors are open!
So I can stumble in and out with no problem
So you can hear the trample and the bust
Of the bathroom floors as I spill my guts
To love and to decay,
Too pretty to abandon what a frivolous display.
Somehow I know what will make me ache even in the smallest of doses.
My body hates me but my mind hypnotises,
The 7 seconds of drunkeness spilled in euphoric dancing I will pay forever
A 3 day lasting hangover for a fever.
For a few moments when all I feel is beautiful.
Worth the world ringing in my ears, the shame rumbling in my stomach, the haze of it all.
I now no longer feel you, just the world breaking underneath me
For Nina's Baltimore to play and my chest to burn I'm free.
This pain must be reality.
Bent over I'm walking so much farther than I expected,
So fragile, so puny, so ashamed in this shamelessness.
May the day rule and the night linger less,
My mistakes ready to undress for some peace,
Of mind because body will be restless.
Where have you gotten yourself this time spider lilly,
This pit of petals none of them perfuming,
Your dying breath this lifeless body.
Know that you will be the one dying.

promised I'll get drunk
settled for getting distracted.
sunk down the floor,wanted the alcohol minus the vomiting.
but eyes shine around me so I become less
vigilant...more  human...
a cure for broken shoulders.
your mouth smells like home I'm feeling better.
bickering in and out of the odour of cracked mandarin peels and ***** shots poured in drunken fever.
impersonate each other see who ***** up better,
put a *** out for the table
hide it from the lover.
just some hiccups to get over.
go outside-skin bare
check the pebbled floor make sure you don't trip and bury yourself there,
gotta flip the pack, take out the vanilla cigarrete,
one for you, then for me.
you'll finish in one minute, I'll finish in thirty...
seconds-until I melt on this chair cuz I remembered I was left alone on my birthday and there was no pack of 'friends' to throw me in the air.
so sudden though I'm sure it'll evaporate.
open the fridge, grab a cube of ice, smash it with my molars hoping it'll get me back to:
dancing minimally and laughing more then I should be,
indulging in things I otherwise,wouldn't be doing ,
letting the me from tommorow handle present me fooling.
eyes have been wider now they simmer at the surface only for your hand to rest on my leg,
like a dog,
like a frozen sociopath.
laugh again, crack a joke for the years I won't get back.
I touch,reveriee,then hollow out
so many thoughts I'm fighting the urge to lack sense and halt myself,into some other place.
hell perhaps,bed most certainly.
fun doesn't last much when lonely but it lasted enough for me.
I loved it.
I'll go to sleep.
whiskey antiseptic I'm coating my teeth with anything but it,wishing it would take me to the morning

I search for wisdom in others
So I can relax
Lay back and not do anything.
I don't need to be wise
My skepticism wouldn't have to tire me.
It's so easy to lean on someone
Be it their body or mind
Their actions or opinions
It's way more comfortable.
Because forming a singular personal identity
Is seemingly impossible.
What is me?
What sets me apart from my ego, whatever I project outwards to the people?
So why be me when there's someone else I can form onto.
Parasitical existence by all means inclusive,
Online, offline, flatline.
I can be you when I can't be me.
I can be you when I am tired
I can be you when I'm lying
I can be you when I don't like me.
Because my persona is picture perfect I can exude my flaws onto someone and my aspirations on someone else.
So I end up being a split formation of self.
The 27th part of me you can find on said website.
Cuz the media is eating me out while my family watches.
What are my ******* core values.
How can I be me when I don't know how I'm living?
So I form me into something else,
Permanency hurts so I morph.
Silently.

The train
****** to wait for me as i count my steps
Going away
And returning
It always passes
Waiting for me to suddenly be stuck to the railroad
Waiting for me to never hear it
I think the train follows me but that's foolish
So i stay cradled in my words, veiled by the moon and my alternating fictitious emotions,
Wanting to be young forever
For being stuck in this timeline just makes everything beautiful.
My ****** youth makes bliss out of misery and condemns my joy for it to be kept for moments like these,
Retrospective of my self, time and the right way to be,
Startled by my conflicting sentiments,
Young anger of the frustrated, power hungry and discontent,
But grateful, for what I've lived and seen.
This is no note or ode to death,
Just a gentle message that i am well
And that I've been and felt plenty
So if thy mark of the end would think I'm ready,
I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't beg to stay in the remnants of me.
But if there's more to breathe than what I've had then, I'll inhale happily.
For the train to or not to hit me,
I'll have to keep waiting,
I promise i am not glamorizing, pain or anger or even lucidity
I am simply accepting comfort, commodity, a vile of short bliss before morning comes in emptyly.
I won't plaster this on the eyes of people to see but rather keep it, treasured antique of my immobility while I for once enjoy living, morbidly, but truly.