Heather is tickling the baby’s little hope,
preventing him from growing up,
Unstoppable laughter is such a lite choke.
Its purplish tyranny yanks the main pleasure’s roots, defiles the purity of the Utopian trees, and
Hunts the maturity of dystopian folks.
Heather is too despicable to set this black-and-white belief free. It’s the new beginning of doubt’s sense of humor.

While I’m Standing in the middle of the sleepy show , Embracing your holiness with a half-rigid conscious mind, Quetiapine is all over the tiny universe, incorporating into a hundred thunders.

ill eagles are committing suicide, and bats are celebrating the final happy ending over their corpses.
Verses turned into transparent hope, and folks died.

I’m over their terror, burying my whole calamity beneath my haunted soul, crafting some papery flowers, coloring their folds, and organizing them around your fiery throne.

Despite all those doomsday grand signs, I'm luring the romance in the sky’s red layers to possess me as a last romantic attempt, to be able to cover all your fantasies and make them come true for the last time.

My love, I’m there between your fairytales, inhaling the magic and exhaling the tragedy instead of you.

I am smart,
and I'm kind.
I've got a beauty that's all mine.
I am worthy.
I'm enough.
I am deserving of healthy love.
I am happy,
and I'm calm.
I can right all of my wrongs.
I will succeed.
I will endure.
I will live life feeling secure.  
I can do this,
you can too.
This poem is for me,
but also you.

far away seems so close in your eyes
and you push your blood away to
feed the wind or some whispers
unimaginable to the full
my torrid eyes see the sky full of scars
sometimes when
the moon is full of boom
all I feel is you

you see you feel you
think you choose and that last one
is so difficult

Civility for civilty's sake
Do you laugh to feel,
Work to wake?
Is there a person there real?
Or, are you too fake?

him and i
it was a love story so rare
from our hometown to europe
two similar souls and a story to be told

him, the boy from upper class
a genious with toxic behaviours
me, the girl with the silent grace
an artist with messy mind

a story of love and cheating
in the second jazz age
we whispered secrets at night, and laughed in mornings
our love was red, burning inside out

i would write and he would read
he would talk and i would listen
our story still lives on in our hearts, yearns to belong
but beneath it there is a sorrow

Evil, sick and twisted boys.
If you like me, if you love me,
Then why do you want to hurt me?

Is my pain release for you?
Can you only feel the ecstasy of intimacy
With your hands so forceful on my neck,
Or with teeth deep in my flesh,
Until I'm sure I'm ripped apart.

Hold my hands behind my back,
Keep them tight above my head
So I won't push away when it hurts.
I'm someone's daughter,
I'm taking it like a good little ****.

Can you tell that I like it?
I worked really ******* it all for you!
And when you touch me so harshly,
The parts of me you like so fondly
Will never again feel quite right for me.

Is it okay to mutilate me?
Must I sacrifice such sacred parts,
And call sweet blessed love a surrender
Of everything that makes me sweet,
Of what's required to be complete.

I write these words on my jean pocket
And carry them around like an omen,
Boy's wont want to touch me then.

i left my youth in aegean
made a trade with apollo
he said "you will be haunted by this summer 'till the day you die"

sirens, wines, sun-kissed cheeks
i laid my sunburnt face to your chest
made a trade with you
i said "this is the only time we will have for the rest of our lives"

horizons, seashells, sands
made a trade with aphrodite
we lied down on beach in the full moon laughing on wine
you said "i will never be as this young and in love as i am in this summer evening"
i left my heart in aegean