Tired, ruined mornings,
when your shadow looks at itself
in a broken mirror.
The tree, bending under
the weight of forbidden fruit,
shivers, blown by a foreign breeze.

Lack of sleep -
your happiness
is an excuse. What good is it
that future has lied to me,
when insomnia is so blissful?

Here is another sold tear - its night
is not conducive
to the presence of stars.
I failed at the introduction
to the autobiography.
I got lost in light - the unknown
was heralding;
I got lost in an existence
that still protests, fights to lose.

The touch is shapeless, aimed straight
at the heart. I renounce the last greeting -
I am here to remain you.

Clouds, fawning at the feet,
bring an end to eternity, give hope
to the one who has despaired
of memory.

I have built my own private meaning
with the help of light.
I have decorated sinful thoughts
with words - I wish to dedicate
them to you.

What to choose: closeness of the heart
or distance of the soul?
The experiences are obscure,
defective, unwanted.
I try to find you among
the few heartbeats - you disappear
before eternity is seen.

My crooked conscience, the struggle
for joy - these are just a handful
of coincidences, a few tears
that I have given to the needy.

Don't be too sinful - I have found you,
although another era has passed,
and the light has become
too long a shadow.

I will fall asleep before
you manage to find the right time;
I will perish as long as
I feel the aftertaste of your longing.

The Necromancer first noticed her magic
at seven, when her cousin passed.
Thunder descended upon her planet
to whisper a soft, solemn song of despair
and she knew, before anyone told her,
she knew death.

At thirteen, Pops followed into darkness,
but the Necromancer saw him again.
He walked her otherworldly dreams
in some distant galaxy, he held her
crying frame, he pleaded between sobs:
Take care of the living.

Still, the Necromancer never ceased to go
into other realms, flirting with the abyss,
colouring neverlands with her imagination.

It all changed when her youngest sibling
Fell.

Now, only sometimes,
when a full moon looms over silver clouds,
only then she peers behind the veil
and visits her brother in another existence.
They talk, they laugh, they cry,
but she always returns home,
because he is the one soul
with the magic to convince her
to live.

You dream fiercely, so that no one
will hold it against you.
You trust, although you know
that your heart will fall silent
at any moment.

A new decalogue is spreading
within you,
according to which you will write
a more beautiful introduction
to this anonymous autobiography.

One day,
your heart will remember you;
we will have the impression
that fear brings us love.

A star has settled on your eyelashes -
green like the first dream
about you, sold to God.
I don't remember the last time
I was so similar to you;
how close your tears, laughter, breath
or heartbeat were to me.

I knew that you were moving
within me, that you were dreaming
and shining,
even though I had renounced the world.

Somewhere at the bottom,
chaos lurks, too ruthless
to cheat freedom.
I fight, although both my hands
are bare.

I live, although life has abandoned
me many times.
The last kiss sparkles within me -
given with premeditation,
so that the sky would bloom,
the earth would awaken.

Let's talk about the silence
that tries to overcome the pain.
Let's try to tame freedom
so that peace
can take its place.

Let's not close
the last window behind us - a body
that is slowly dying
is a great excuse to give up.

I carefully count
your freshest tears - I know they exist
only to quench your longing.
Entrusted to the wrong sky,
I rock in the embrace
of the earth, close to fulfillment.

I don't want to replace
paradise for you - I will return
before the final blow falls
asleep in me.

The fist of your heart leaves
saturated shapes,
thoughts without their own words.
I leave time far behind.
I am leaving an eternity
for which there is no point
in starting another day.

Please, defeat the silence in me
that does not allow me to love.
Free me from faith;
for it I can give my life
into good hands.

Covered with black breath,
I beg for a sip
of the past,
for one poor sip of comfort.

I sense a truth that has no memory
attached to it. Terrified by my own heart,
I try to find the right future for you.

My illusions, filling your victorious time,
today resemble dried tears,
words covered with
a thick layer of dust.

I would like to fall asleep
so that the future would return
my desires. I hide in the fifth corner
of my heart; one day you will fall before
the border of a whisper.

I will experience a fear
that has never been loved in solitude.
I've gotten used to the dream -
it will soon come to an end.

I will reach the threshold of paradise,
if only you will understand I loved too soon.
Thoughts are just giving birth
to words - very poor, ossified
and selfish.

It will turn out that you are an illusion,
hidden beyond the borders
of humanity, under the eyelid of time.

what is grief anyway?

it’s seeing the snow on the rooftops of Paris and wanting to call to tell you.
wishing you could feel the chill of the air on your cheeks,
hold the flakes in your palms and watch them melt.

you came and left as fast as falling snow.
the world stayed still, stagnant, as you slipped behind the curtains and stopped the clocks.
the cogs murmured.
that intricate system you built,
ticking time,
love growing,
gardens planted,
hands getting bigger,
hair growing longer.
how didn’t I see
your skin wrinkling,
your eyes fading.

the engineer silently smiles as he looks at a childhood he crafted.
not for himself.
for the children who called him papa.
who held his face with tiny starfish hands and sat on his shoulders.

That’s what grief is.
it’s wishing I could give you something in return to make you smile.
it’s realising how much you did for us
too late to be able to thank you for it.

Maybe we will see each other in another universe, another life.
The grief swallows me alive.
The gloomy memories that play,
in the back of my mind; aren't enough. Your voice i can feel but not hear.
Your face that is blurry,
that I cannot see,
cannot be; anymore.

oh death and her serene lap
just let me take a nap
soft cushion like thighs
what would a man do but just cut off his eyes
her smile is divine
her lips have black ****
just a hint of comfort
just a moment of tranquillity
no words can describe you beauty
oh divine miss death take me to your motel
just let me spend a night with my head over your thighs