Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
stranger Jan 2020
I'm not afraid of death
She's scared of me
And people like me who embrace her ever so senselessly.
I'm not afraid of death.
Since we created the concept.
Imbued the notion of a tragic end with a lachrymal consequence.
The idea of death was built with fear written on headstones and synagogues.
Achieved through the exposition of conflicts and wars.
How am I to know that death isn't peaceful?
Painless or not, I am not afraid of death.
For its vague appearance brings itself closer to what makes us human.
For its vigil and oneirical existence is simple and over judged.
I am not afraid of death.
Death is afraid of the people who have yet to see her.
16 isn't working
stranger May 2021
My mommy saw death today again,
She sat on the stairs, ciggarete in hand and spewed away,
How her mornings were **** and her cigs don't really hit today.
So I knew it was serious and put on my concerned face, the one she only loves anyway, and I told her not to dismay.
And as I pick at my skin and other ***** insufferences I listen as her voice forces, a sadness as to alarm me this may be concerning.
She says that on her way to work this morning she saw a little old lady in a crane,
This little old lady tripped on straight surface, hit her head so hard, a haematoma bloomed in her brain.
And mom blows the smoke again.
"I heard the sound and the pain in my leg did not matter" she said. "I ran so fast, I was so worried that little old lady cannot die on me".
So she ran and the woman was bleeding, "her mask so ****** she could've choked" as she confirmed, "many passed by as I was trying to lift this lady but none bothered to care"
She said that at once a biker dropped his bike and jumped in to help as they called the ambulance in despair.
Mommy said she asked the lady her name, age and a kid she could contact.
Little old lady was 83 and remembered her boy's number fully.
And so my mommy calls to tell him that his mom's at the emergency and he picked up and said:
"Has a car hit her yet? "
Death is nice
stranger Dec 2019
Friday morning
Already ironic.
Casually sitting in a taxi cuz today my history thesis is happening.
A kid was hit on the crossing, laying there with the only three people around who called the ambulance.
A few meters on the other side of the road,
The side the kid wanted to get to,
A man casually arranging tables in the betting house.
Watching the desperation in my eyes as I watch the scene before me.
Now is stuck in meaninglessness.
I heard later that day that the kid lives and hopefully so he won't stop.
So now I'm stuck in pink doored bathrooms and the road the trams pass by.
Thinking how desperation is hope because fear is motivation and anger's the fuel.
How much of a human I am, thinking the sole  existence of life is somewhat philosophical.
Cuz that kid on the street and that bathroom I was in, are both poetry.
And I'm nothing but an observer.
Things before others realise.
And still what value has this moment in time?
Almost 100km per hour, I could die right?
I could die by my own means so of course 100km is just a simple factor.
I wanna die by my own means.
No car hitting me, no sudden disease.
I want the odds that are against me to at least respect my timing.
Though it's selfish.
I've been wanting to write about that kid for a while, just couldn't get myself to.
Like a letter to myself I'd never wanna send.
Naturally running out of fuel, life itself slips away in front of my eye.
So in the most mundane mindset, I cannot stop it.
stranger May 2020
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"
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.
and now i feel old
stranger Nov 2020
i searched for a suicide hotline today, in one of my classes,
knowing too well that i shouldn't expect for one to exist,
after all we're too small of a country to think of suicide.
but i found one,
and it was called
ironically though, the hotline only functioned between 7:00 and 19:00
so if you want to die at midnight there's nothing of that sort to stop you.
good luck
stranger Sep 2019
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.
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.
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?
**** some nights, my talent for insomnia really shows
stranger Sep 2021
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.
stranger Mar 2021
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.
That's not true I'm just tired
stranger Oct 2022
Uitându-mă prin ochetul perdelei din bucătărie,
Vremea mă înșală.
Și eu pe mine.
Mă dor ochii, pereții, dansează -eu îmi caut o cauză, o rădăcină pentru mânie.
Doare să fiu atât de tânără
Atât de fraged și de crud, un creier o câmpie pustie, râd câteodată fiecare sunet spunând  "cruță-mă".
Mă împiedic câteodată de pietre răsărite din sine,
Mă pierd în mine, o pereche de mâini împrumutată o minte curată,ma mint ridicându-mă... e mai bine.
Ascult alternosfera sper ca furia se topește
Dau din picioare ura în mine crește,
O fărâmă de moloz, o brândușă oprește
Gândul asurzitor, ce mă ofilește.
Un urban fără cuvinte, o carne crudă mușc fără să mestec, doar sa las o urmă de dinți-semnătură, un sărut cu gust de primulă.
O rădăcină de creștet, un alt gând veşted.
Oare care poveste ma adormea, firește nu-mi voi aminti.
Nu-mi voi aminti decât când doare
Și rămâne ochiul fără culoare, un iris topit, o sfântă vâltoare, încă o mișcare și axa e completă.
O existență perversă, semi-coerentă.
am uitat că eram așa atunci
stranger Feb 2022
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.
stranger Sep 2022
these peaceful mornings have thought me to sit, breathe and admire,
smoke until the gentle light barely caresses the filter,
and rest my gaze upon still water.
cry to mimic the dew spun on spider...
webs to faint and inspire.
peaceful, quiet, muddied,
it is rather dire to feel September.
to crawl in its mist and pray for tears to cleanse this swollen stare, these hands enclosing earth, Atlas-like torture.
the mist morphs into smoke morphs into prismatic projections of some ecstasy I've been craving.
I've spotted everything with ash, my lips, the pages I've been turning, these palms withholding;
patience for a life unlived.
stranger Nov 2021
There's a thirst
To sicken, to be full
To never feel the need to be understood.
A thirst unquenced to be human undamaged.
To be needed but indestructible
To be present only when summoned.
This thirst sometimes aching
To be fulfilled to be terminated
All failing ethereality.
My wrists crack as I'm lifting
Myself off of the floor for the seventh time.
I become part of the decor...yeah I'm fine.
There's 9 days left until I've fulfilled my sentence.
What glory bestowed on my head!
A thirst to be undead, a thirst to remain stuck and never dare to step ahead.
A thirst untouched by water.
I'm left parched so merciless.
stranger Jan 2022
Îmi deschid gura și e fum
De parcă winston m-ar fi luat și câștigat
Ca pe un trofeu.
Cancer deraiat de eu.
Ciuda zbiară.
Înghite ca o termită toată camera asta din lemn răstignită în casă-goală
Roade păr, unghii, gânduri, șoapte
Împletite în părul unei alte eu.
Una ce nu e răzbunătoare.
Una rămasă copil stingher pe o strada de București mai puțin tulburătoare.
Dumbrava Nouă portal spre Strada Bîrca numărul 15,
O mișcare, 7 fețe.
Ilinca minte, Ilinca doare, Ilinca crește, Ilinca ucigătoare.
Ce mârşav gând, să scap de mine.
Mă holbez la oameni poate uit și revine
Viața într-un moment maniacal al zilei.
Un spate îndoit, un umăr întins pentru tine
Să-l mângâi, să-l fărâmi în palme
*** dorești.
Eu ard dar am răbdare.
Să pier ca cerul dimineții în favoarea verii.
Rupt din soare.
stranger Sep 2021
Sometimes I dream of being a kid
Sometimes I dream of never waking up
Sometimes I dream of being free.
Sometimes I forget what life is about.
Sometimes I dream the 8 pills multiplied by 14 and that I died in the corner of the scene.
Sometimes I dream of never giving up the 10 floor I was planning on jumping.
Sometimes I dream of taking the poison I had been hiding.
I used to mark all my birthdays and count them all as funerals.
And I'd take pleasure or pain then clean up the deed.
That's a good girls memorial.
At 13 I thought I was projecting
Just a product of society, I'm copying what I'm given.
I thought it was boisterous and fraudulent  to be suicidal.
So I became less pretentious.
Waited for mother nature.
A crosswalk, a powerful storm, a sickness
Glimmering on my birthday candles.
I've been better,
Older and meticulous I take to anger to get me off.
Moving from place to place, trading ciggaretes to be unconscious.
I polarize memories, scared they'll leave me if I'm not cautious.
Gatekeep happiness, the child and its loss.
My daddy still a distant obsession, now closer than ever:
Kid me saw him as a god, now I wonder if he's ever been human.
My mommy still the embodiment of warning, I used to think I'd see her cured of her epiphanies.
She's here but she'll never understand.
Every morning colder I'm clinging to what I never had
Hair's been black, blue, green, purple, pink until it wasn't,
Scaring trespassers with my fingers on the book subtitle
"legal ramification of a psychopath who's suicidal"
I've been 3 then 7 then every other number every year,
I refuse to get older the same way I refused to stay little.
Being really has been rough,
I guess I'll have to grow up.
But sometimes I dream of all my years going my way.
Sometimes I feel stuck in and out of my own brain.
Sometimes I want to erase my scars to make room for more.
Spectaculos speculations of a nail arching out of the floor.
I'm better even when I'm not.
Kid me would want to die the moment something irritating happened , present me would wait a second.
Not for me now but for me in the future,
Who could be smiling at me and remember,
That it was worse once maybe it won't stay so forever
stranger Jan 15
the way back is always faster
soundless and satiated
all this perched up ancient brick and cold fervor
i saw a shadow riding split between the fields and the cement
and the road burn and the field braided ashes i remain quiet.
I like sound deep and perforating,
I like when you're reading all my words while I'm behind hoping it'd translate into understanding .
You tell me to never stop writing, that i know how to put words together,
You praise me over how im living while i fall asleep to dreams of driving , praying to a God I've never met and dying.
there are times when almost everything is silent
Even my mind.
The sun stays up and smooths over
My gaze, my guilt, debt and concern.
there are times when I fear i make way to invade myself
most times I'm just being ruthless.
stranger Dec 2018
i feel like air
    - unnoticed-
     cold and warm
no color
I guess Im breathing
stranger Dec 2021
if it is a leech
spilling of blood-lust and treacherous
I must reach and get over,melodious
To be distracted by evil.
I am most questionable.
If it is a leech
I must wonder and pick at it
Until it's skin raw
Until it eats me.
Therefore it will die only
Once it's done consuming.
If it is a leech
That I am loving
I will adore it entirely
In its famished cruelty
In its horrid shaking.
If it is a leech with eyes of gold that I am willing to hold.
I will do so
Let it unfold
Let it make me hungry,let me grow old.
If it is a leech
Then I am dreaming.
Inoccently yet incoherently
About lives unlived and odds defied.
About watching myself rest within me tonight.
strange dreams man
stranger Sep 2020
I'll grind my teeth and make a milkshake to give you me
Simplified and slowly infused in your tea.
I'll wipe my bones off and strain my marrow in your palms so you can see I'm alive.
I'll cry you my irises out and play you what I've seen so you know I'm not that empty.
She said the truth to me and now i wanna stay in the sun until my blood dries out.
I'll file my nails to the base so you can see that dirt follows the finest.
I'll burn off my fingertips for you to see that water no matter how hot still takes out the fire.
I've burnt the sage and said my prayer but i know i won't get sleep
So I'll pluck every hair one by one until you know I'm beautiful either way.
I'll bend my ears to the sound of love and I'll crack my toes to the smell of dissapointment,
Guess i was raised right.
I'll sand my knees down so they don't break walls no more and I'll dent my knuckles till they don't work so I'm finally harmless.
I'll tell my mama she did a great job right after i pull out anything away from my body that could replicate someone like me,
And I'll send myself packed in your dreams filed down, broken, grinded into small pieces for you to finally enjoy my purest form of soul.
stranger Oct 2021
*** s-au dus iar zile peste mine și eu le-am vândut pe nimic sperând la libertate și n-am primit nici măcar dreptul de a dormi.
*** m-au călcat orele în picioare râzând de visele mele anticipative.
M-am săturat de zile și nopți placebo
De batjocura lumii când vreau doar să râd.
M-am săturat de semi-singuratate,
Și de fiecare gând.
M-am saturat de tine,
Tu cel din oglindă, că plângi doar când nu ți se cuvine și râzi fără inimă.
Sper să nu-ți mai plângi sănătatea că nu are să se întoarcă,
Căci camera ți-e goală și tu tot aici ai rămas,
Tu râs fără spațiu de ecou
Raza de soare în crepuscul,
Nu-ți mai număra zile pentru un erou,
Și șterge-ți rujul.
M-am săturat de tine,
Tu cel din oglindă, căci tu nu vei fi eu vreodată iar eu nu voi fi tu.
Așa că refuzând să plâng, iubire, îți aștept sfârșitul.
Murdar om mai ești,
Păcătos din natură.
Sper să nu mai grăiești, sper să te arzi cu propria-ți ură.
stranger Jan 4
și nu mai rămâne nimic de făcut
doar gura asta de rodie s-o înghit
și să achit un timp trecut pentru un noi ce nu există
eu rămân pe jos tu în pat, eu plec în mansardă tu la masă cu paharele sparte și rujul meu roșu.
atât a rămas din mine, o dorință să-ți fiu și o urmă de ruj la tine pe piept
atât am fost.
îți fredonez ceva, nu contează ce anume atâta timp cât face sunet
să distragă că sunt goală, să distragă ce sunt cu adevărat
tot ce sunt eu se prelinge pe tine și nu ne mai suportăm, și suntem înfometați.
ți-am dat din mine limbă corp și melasă de minte
ți-am spălat capul pe întuneric în cada și era atât de frig
ți-am plătit pentru ce am luat.
stranger Aug 2021
I fantasise about being stapled to the walls of every house I've ever been in
To be glorified iconography
So Jesus crucified could never compare to me.
But I digress and ignore my fantasy
Dig deeper in my denied anxieties
Or at least that how I've been feeling
Taught to believe what my father always told me
"Qui ante dolem plus dolem" scarring my skin.
Reads as follows straight to the core:
"Who suffers before will suffer a lot more"
You see I think that to some I've been just a blur while to others I've been pure life.
I think I'm just a field study for my paternal figure
Too much of a cynical creature too little to inspire.
He thinks he can cheat life by cheating himself but it's all dire
Amy Winehouse knows best she even sang about cheating herself, it's nothing but piling lies onto the fire.
So my father smiles and says I search for disaster, search for situations, imagine doom charging at me faster and faster and faster...
But I interrupt him, I'm rational.
I go in with low expectation so if it turns out for the best I can truly enjoy the consolation and if it turns to be the way I imagined it I can lavish in the universe's approbation.
I say I despise his way of living,
He asks what is there to hate in it.
And i am baffled and injurious behaviour is sparking,
Staggering, stuttering I simply ask how is that he can live so falsely happy so easily, how is it not torturous for further developing.
He says nothing is false, it's all hoping, it's ignoring stress, it's living authentically.
And I think to myself dissapointedly
If only
I was bolted in these walls and didn't have to live, judge or decide.
Just watching cemented in time.
maybe I am
stranger Sep 2021
Am scris mii de cuvinte, 0 răspunsuri
Sute de paragrafe în ani fără repercusiuni.
Locul mă înghite
Nu tot ce zâmbește, minte.
Și totuși încă scriu cuvinte.
Inima sparge în palpitații
Mintea râde și întristează generații
Iar mi-e frică, iar mă mint, iar adorm în fibrilații.
Neajunsuri, se rezumă
Ce să calculez, când tot e în venă.
Mintea conjugă, durerea e genetică.
Mama râde și mă-ntreabă dacă eu chiar am inimă.
Eu cu ochii pe sub unghii, ascult și jur că cineva mă strigă.
Poate e băiatul de pe trotuar spunând că sunt înstărită ,
Tata ajungând și-n Afganistan, are buzunar de armată.
Poate e doar o proiectare și altă inutilă supărare,
Un comentariu rupt în soare, o rază arzătoare.
Eu ascult și mi-aș astupa buzele.
Să nu mai aibă dorințe.
Adevăruri, minciuni... O sărutare.
Ce-mi mai stă în cale.
Îmi e frică, poate sunt eu
Nu oameni, nici minte nici Dumnezeu.
Rup din mine pentru nimeni
După încep să caut,
Liniștea caută și ea crize,
Nu mai *** să mă ascund.
stranger Feb 2022
I guess the way my hand floats in this light is romantic to my eyes
The way my father seems to want to share his life but never gets to is always on my mind.
This morning he told me that as he was staying with his dying dad, he'd said something at the time my father thought was sickly senile words on a deathbed:
"Son at least I was born to peace and will die in peace, I'm afraid that won't be the case for you"
my father repeats with his hands-sliding lower on the wheel,
He's driving me to school on a Friday and I have to ask myself,what does he feel.
Fear for his kids?
Worry for the land his mother and my mother painted when we were born?
Now as he's hanging clothes outside my room I can see his shadow through the window, I too...
Worry that me and my sister will be kids of war,
That my mother and father won't get to see the world alight unless it's a nuclear fight,
That I won't get life just like many more haven't still I
Watch this hand of mine wander and float through light, caressing the veins day and night, caressing veins keeping me alive - accepting what might
Be mere months until we die, be just another thousand lives lost with no guilt for the world to thrive, just a daily sight.
Dad told me he used to think he could change the world and, learnt as I will too, that the only thing I can change is myself.
He's said this throughout my life like a laitmotif to our existence-
Sometimes I think he would suffer less if he'd just accept sufferance.
I tell him I think I no longer want to change the world, I'd rather watch as it's changing and pray I could teach our poems to the stars and they'll send and teach me theirs.
He congratulates me.
It's so rare that I get to see him so human, this is why I grew up so damaged but I still admire it.
When I see my dad I see a crackle of amber filled by a water droplet falling off a soft sage leaf,
It is the heaviest of suffering sometimes when I listen to him.
He is everything I thought I wished and would never want to be.
There's something I found so wise in him, I hope it isn't just his denial of suffering, something among his stories something in his words I hope it stays with me.
stranger Aug 2021
Familiar faces in stranger places
I think I saw you in someone else today
Faded traces and they're all complacent
Cleaning up my head to have a place to lay.
You're the spark in my eye
That's why I need to close them
The mist of our interactions try to pry
My eyes open as much as they can.
I'm left speechless
You were a lady in crutches
A thousand police dispatches
The sounds of all the ambulances
A few more chances.
A little kid who cried.
Another romance tried.
Just a little more time.
I compliment you with ease
Probably because you've been my muse for weeks,
Years even maybe
I know the white sky doesn't lie,
And that I should take its advice for good.
By the time it darkened I should've understood,
That time runs faster than I could ever try.
So I stare at the smoke tangling on the stage
And at this metal nail I found,
I calculate and ignore all that I could ever crave,
Figure that I'll let myself cry this black kohl out.
And let you fade into my songs and my words and my chords and my dreams and my thoughts and my hopes.
what am I even doing
stranger Mar 2022
Și dacă arde?
un străin nu arde vreodată.
Un străin făcut cenușă, scrum ca să te învelesca.
Un străin-o tăcere în plus, un ochi în cer pentru apus, și altul în pământ crescut.
Un străin redus la un refuz, de aer introdus, străin pentru plămân-un intrus.
Și dacă arde?
Nerăbdare și angoasa, străin de primăvară întins pe masă.
Și dacă arde, nu se stinge, arde până va respinge grija crudă-iubire ce nu pretinde.
Arde-n ciudă de mocnește, nu distinge alb de verde, nu mai vede.
Arde-n ură oarbă și dacă arde continuă până distruge-
Simțământ, durere și veghe, arde până nu mai cuprinde...un străin-
Arde hain.
Și dacă arde nu va mai fi  extins, arde flacără în Olimp, arde iad cumplit, arde neclintit și iubește ...
Străinul iubește, cumva, și privește lumea *** arde în scântei.
Arde pământul cu suflet și noi cu ei,
Arde râs și speranță, soare...
Dacă arde, doare.
stranger Jan 15
lips embered
sizzling awaitance
where are you when i seek to soothe
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?
stranger Dec 2021
De mi-ai dezpletii coastele.
S-au încâlcit și mi-au luat tot aerul cu ele.
Ți-aș recita idile
Mai calde ca  visele mele.
Mă strâng oasele.
Eu ard și ele țin scrumul în mine.
Ce deranj al magiei,
Îmi tresar nervii și arterele *** le convine.
Ce sunt eu pentru tine?
O fericire trecătoare, o intrigă complexă, o altă gură nepăsătoare.
Aş cere mult prea mare oroare,
Timpul tău pentru guri temporare
Viața ta pentru o întâmplare.
Ochii tăi păstrați în a mea chemare.
Ți-am spus fără corp și fără teamă că ești violoncel
În vise ți-aș vorbii astfel, fără remușcare.
Iar câinele din mine se scutură de ură
M-aș arunca în iad să văd un alt zâmbet
O altă sclipire mai pură, un alt miracol corpolent.
Aş vrea să-mi vezi ființa necoruptă
Să-ți arăt că real am respirat și eu.
Dar condiția blestemată
Îmi ştirbeşte plămânii de aer, îmi face moartea țelul.
Eu nu aș știi *** să te iubesc.
stranger Feb 2020
I spend half my life in baths
But I feel rather *****.
I'm a writer at loss of words,
Perhaps my education wasn't enough,
The praising of jesus mightve not worked
For I am ever so unethical.
And so I'd like to drown exactly here.
In my excessively bad and cryptic poetry,
Envious of other's talent, opportunities and lifes.
On my way of trying to seem a new human I forgot who I was and who I am.
So back to the drawing board... Which never existed and will never exist.
Routine living and avid hopes.
Haunted by an image of me that will never catch this lifetime.
I've no-one to read this and no-one to read me
And it kinda feels lonely.
I think existence is meant to be lonely,
**** the "social creatures we gotta be together" ****.
At loss of words, ***** and unethical.
A filthy paradox of human life.
Am i not the epitome of human existence?
The one thing I've have never dreamt of becoming,
resentful, abhorrent and alone.
stranger Sep 2021
Îmi alunecă ochii în gură
Nu mai contează câte ore am dormit.
Mă uit în oglindă și știu că mă-njură,
Zilele dinaintea mea deja au trecut până am clipit.
Și urlă viața după mine:
"Ce-ai făcut cu mine curvo ?"
*** face orice orgoliu cu sine.
"mi-am futut o zi întreagă pentru o amintire redată la viteza disperării turbo"
Vorbesc cu moartea în fiecare seară și îi spun că nu știu ce vreau mai mult ***, viață sau să scap de oboseală.
Îmi spune sexul e o iluzie la fel ca viața
Și oboseala stă doar cât e lăsată.
Ce viață deraiată!
Nu-ți lași ochii să se închidă dacă ai fost prea onestă.
Și dacă dormi, te trezești cu regret cusut în țeastă.
Eu nu răspund
Eu nu vorbesc
Eu nu stau la rând
Eu nu știu să mă feresc
Și totuși încă trăiesc.
Mama a zis că ceața e a lui Bacovia
Eu cred că nu știe nimic despre ea.
Nu așa funcționează lumea.
Tata a zis că mi-am ales soarta
Mi-am negat fericirea și viața
Că mi-am tăiat șansele pentru alta.
Eu mi-am propus să nu mai văd
Să nu mă mai las urmărită
Coruptă de ură, oamenii se lipesc când eu vreau să dispar din orbită.
Vreau să fiu într-adevăr uitată.
Nu-mi permit să fiu iubită
Nu-mi permit alt suflet în purgatoriu.
stranger Jul 2018
Bathtubs and bubbles
Hair strands, struggles.
My hands and soap
Life and and all the hope
Problems, stress
Forever distressed
Love, memories, hanging on my silver linings,
Pain, hurt mind and colored thoughts
Happiness is all I ought.
Persistence is all I got.
stranger Nov 2018
I am watching the grass grow
He said as his eyes turn yellow.
Fog and rain levitate around
Twirling and singing with no sound.
He shuts them up
Liquid thunder
I can't fall in the gap
Being able to breathe never seemed harder.
But crimson orchids grow out of desperation
Spreading their roots over hopes and dreams
In a game of decapitation
The headless boy wins.
And he dances on silent waters
Surrounded by velvet curtains
Broken everywhere by every flower
That told him love hurts.
But water still flows
And my orchids still grow
The liquid thunder stays in
And surrenders to the storm within.
stranger Oct 2021
There's this ache in my head
Comes around every night
As if time is infiltrating
And I'm left to wonder if I'm dead.
This pain is so cancerous
Like a gangrene it spreads.
It's cylindrical like a syringe it digs in and releases,
Toxin or cure who's really checking?
All I know is that I'm aching.
Every night this earthquake like sliver
Cracks my skull open and slithers
As if it's made of hell and eats thoughts.
Maybe this pain is my comfort,
My last coping mechanism I knew it would hurt.
Bitter,I'm so bitter,
Enthralled by various sounds and punctuation.
This catharsis must be my killer.
This envy my executioner.
This time it will be proper.
Death unpaused by distractions.
**** me faster
stranger Jul 2018
Splashes of color on my tinted skin
Bruises and marks is all that I see.
And somehow I find them pretty
The fact that pain comes in different shades of every color
But it’s not that fair for me?
I bare it all to see its beauty and I never recover.
stranger May 2022
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.
stranger Sep 2018
It's a candle slowly having its wax melting and falling silently on a cold wooden floor
With each drop I come a step closer to the door.
And if it keeps on burning the same way it's burning now,
I'll go in and out the window until I hit the ground.
When the candle has its last little piece burnt
I'll be long gone and my body will be cold
And when there's nothing left out of the candle
I'll be long forgotten by all the people that promised  they'll remember.
Candles and their way of slowly melting away. Dying while they still give out their last scent.
stranger Sep 2022
demonizat, sanctificat
piele şmirghel, linge-o să nu mai ardă
îmi place să fiu privită
mă găsesc dorindu-mi o pereche de ochi să admire această viață, această paragină dureros de frumoasă.
şi plouă, plouă și nu știu dacă mă vrea lumea purificată, dacă mă cheamă să mă căiesc.
nu am ieșit încă, tot demonizat urlu prin pereți și răcesc.
te-ai aștepta ca foamea să doară și să consume mai tare ca ura, nu e cazul.
îmi tot supun mintea la exerciții de imaginație, că voi sta cu spatele în camera asta înghețată și se vor scurge mâini sub ușă să se țină de mine,
că voi ieși pe stradă să fiu întâmpinată de căldura stranie a nopții și dorință.
că mă vei răpi de simțământ.
defapt ceea ce mă bântuie nu e atingere, nici compensație.
e singurătatea primordială, e un gol ce caută împlinire
selectiv caută înrăit.
iar eu nu-i *** controla nesimțirea.
seara se scurge argint pe pereți iar eu nu mă mai iert.
stranger Sep 2018
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
I thought of how deja-vuesque all my feelings seem like
stranger May 2022
burgundy, white and
burgundy, white and violet
irises have sprung so i can steal them
rupture this temperature increase and fall in
eardrum ripping sleep.
the beauty
has returned and i may weep
for time to reap.
my head just another hole to ****,
my mouth just another eclipsed month
irises in May can only last
long enough that I may not keep
unclutch, disobey and swallow the lack
of life where there is almost too much to live.
give it to the irises, they die quick.
stranger Jul 2022
ochii mei, o graniță
o frontieră de nepăşit.
oasele ce-i țin încapsulați ies afară
proeminența lor a ispășit,
sentința unui orb,neintenționat.
ce n-am văzut sare să muște,
acum ochii zvâcnesc sub pleoape închise.
ochii mei sunt viața ce am devorat.
te văd și când dorm simt *** am învolburat
marea ce mi-o port în vene.
te văd în amintiri în care nu exiști, încep să-mi propun dileme.
că ai fi existat din totdeauna,
că undeva, prinsă-n retină, te-am ținut în amar întuneric și dulce lumină.
când irisul migrează sub pleoapă, în vis
e un semn că încă exiști,
că în mine încă este destulă viață, că iubesc și am iubit.
ochii mei, un pact cu actul de a trăi
o simplă strângere de mână, nimic mai mult
de văd sau nu, respir nimic mai puțin.
ochii mei ofranda unei venerări veșnice a unui Dumnezeu ce încă se ascunde de mine.
stranger Sep 2018
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

I never felt cold tears before
stranger Aug 2018
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.
*I like crystals*
stranger Aug 2021
I see faces in the tuberoses dying in my vase.
Are they really counting my days?
The faces wince in pain as they watch me every evening.
Tonight the faces contorted, dodging concern and flowing straight into judgement.
They hear the dogs howling and the mosquitos buzzing all trapped in this little silver box by my bed
So they focus on me instead
I know they've  been checking to see if I'm dead.
And every time I breathe again they let their fragrance haunt and mend.
The flowers are dying I tell myself, they have been for days, scent less by now I must imagine things.
My little silver box clings and the wood enclosing my room cracks and all I do is listen
Sirens, screams, rings and all sorts of disturbances.
Why can't I go to sleep and just forget about the tuberoses?
Why do I have to live in the flickers of light and notice their grimaces?
I've had enough tasteless nightmares this dead flora can't stand the comparison.
And yet their image burns and their scent hypnotises,
The door handle turns and what's hollow crystallises
My pride is hurt and the spiders in the house begin to thread.
I must be hallucinating about love again.
they're still here
stranger Feb 2022
Un prag
O piedică
Între mine și fericire.
Un cui răsărit și călcat, o jumatete de suflet vomitat.
Eu curg, lumea țiuie.
Eu râd, lumea plânge.
Să lași ușile deschise... sunt altele care ma vor prinde de picioare:
Mândrie aspră, un șmirghel în ureche
Vină lichidă, un susur pe hârtie
Rușine acidă ieșind din mine.
Mi-am promis că nu voi deveni ce am să fiu mâine.
Uite-mă! Am mânie destulă și pentru tine.
Mă urăsc cu radiusul răsăritului și apusului, arzând încet lumea de vie.
Cu pașii grei spre deosebire de ușurința cu care alunec pe gheață
Capul în altă dimensiune, corpul stă și suferă.
Se privește, se primește ce se merită.
Iubire caldă înseamnă gresia din baie îmbrăcându-mă
4:28 spre 4:29.
Ce iubire, ce viitor, ce față făcută rouă,
Călcată în picioare de iarnă.
O indulgență parşivă.
stranger Nov 2018

~am i too strong to die or too weak to live? ~
one of these days
stranger Jan 2022
Delirant, înrăit,
Sticlete răstignit.
Pe un vârf de gard clementin.
Vorbește-mi de dureri de suflet.
Ale inimii frânte dulci scobituri.
Vorbește-mi de vise curmate,
Ale vieții calme zguduituri.
Lumea alunecă, eu mă împiedic de
Compot de inimă rămas pentru o iarnă fără sfârșit.
Rămân eu în liniște.
Pun zahar într-o tăietură
Viitorul este strălucit sunt doar rea de gură.
Un vârf de şold vânăt
Cerul gurii o gulie
Bătută de grindină, amăruie.
Un cot, un călcâi, un om nătâng, un simplu cui.
Cablu fumegă furie, roşu prăfuit pe covor
Mă vrea să urlu de ciudă, de nervi, de dor.
Mă vrea pe margine de macara ori 9 metri sub pământ.
Timpul trece tot mai rece,
Tot ce *** să fac e să-i mănânc urmele.
Două mâini goale în zăpadă, nu tu mănuși nu tu buzunare,
Frig făcut ardoare
Pentru o stea căzătoare, pentru o viață nepăsătoare.
stranger Nov 2021
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.
stranger Jan 2022
the stories of how we fell in love
the countless trains, the willful strangers and their cars
the made-up midnight meals,
the need to escape, to lie to parents, to discard patience
it is indeed a story to make me fuller,
some filler in place for the food I haven't eaten in years.
how is it that it's always the disrupted marriages that have the greatest adventures?
"we were kids in love, no money, never dreaming of fortunes"
young forever in all the terminals
stranger Nov 2020
haha...there's nothing here to disown
timeless youth
nothing here to keep,
just me.
i'd call you to tell you that i am so much more alive now,
but i'm scared you liked me better when i wasn't.
i'd call you to tell you that you might've been the truest form of love i've ever felt,
but i'm scared you won't even answer.
grey is every word you sent me
and i'll keep it like that,
i was never meant to be there anyway.
i told my mom about you and she laughed,
she knew i always bring in secrets,
and you were one i didn't even know about.
hah man it's 10:15 the world's going to **** and im out here writing about how im always late when it comes to my feelings. bless it's been years.
stranger Jul 2021
i want our love to  sizzle on our skin in the sunlight
and glisten in the moonlight
i want your love to clutter my heart
i want to stumble on all the words you've whispered in your sleep
i want your love to hide in snippets of paragraphs you've read to me
i want your love to hurt and soothe
i want our love to wax and wane like the moon
i want our love to be disgusting,
in such a way that nothing will ever bother us.
i want your love to ***** my brain
taint it in such a way, i'll never want to know life like before again
i want your  love to stain
to mess up my yellow blouses and dresses
i want our love to be holy
pure and untouchable,
i want our love to be time-consuming fatal
i want my love to taste like the sky
so yours can be the ocean
and we can melt together.
i want to find your love in all the places that were once hollow
i want our love to be immortal,
like the words I've been writing
to return to them and reminisce how humanly enamored we can be.
i want our love to stay,
hidden in my heart and conscience
forever engraved away from the world's hopes and wickedness.
i have been dreaming; worse and better, loud and silenced ,you and me aphrodite
stranger Dec 2021
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 wish it lasted a little more
just a little
Next page