when the nights grow longer
and the days grow darker,
and the only light is the one
that can be switched off anytime,
you force yourself to wake up,
you force yourself to eat,
you force yourself to try
just a little harder,
and when you need to sleep
you have to force yourself,
ironically enough,
not to think
about the looming danger,
about the trembling hands,
about every test you couldn't pass,
about how the nights are longer
and how the days are darker,
and the only light you've got
is the one inside your heart.

The Beast broke free, love set him whole,
While I remain, a Phantom soul.
His curse was lifted, his heart now sings,
But my humanity only stings.

No mask of fur, no monstrous guise,
Just human hands and hollow cries.
A heart that yearns, a fate unkind—
A curse of flesh, a shattered mind.

The Beast found joy, his pain released,
But I, unmasked, am still the beast.

i stay out of it more than i used to,
painting pictures on a metaphorical canvas.
anything is possible if i want to
find something that catches on,
leave everything else that matters
and turn away from it all.

i have great conversations with myself,
drawing memories like a string to wrap and tighten.
i live and die keeping it to myself
with every thought that spills through
like gasoline, begging for a lighter.
i stay out of it more than i used to.

Closed doors and soundproof walls,
Yet darkness drowns these endless halls.
Flat on my bed, eyes trace the ceiling—
Does silence breathe, revealing meaning?

Silence should be the absence of sound,
But whispers swirl, echoing around.
Are phantoms lurking within these walls?
I race to the door—no soul in the halls.

I seek reprieve, a fragile peace,
Yet shadows mock; they never cease.
The remnants of ghosts choose to remain,
A torment etched in sorrow's refrain.

'Silence! ' I scream, through laughter, through tears.
Is this the mask of madness and fears?
'Who are you? Where do you hide? '
I beg for solace; none abide.

I rise to wander, fractured and blind,
Until I face the truth confined:
There is no other, no haunting kind—
Only the chaos within my mind.

The bourbon burns, its fire subsides,
Yet fails to drown what inside resides.
The whispers swell from faint to loud,
A tidal roar, a gathering crowd.

Their echoes rise, grotesque, unkind,
Blurring the edges of space and time.
Confusion spreads like vines that bind,
Tugging my soul, dismantling my mind.

The noose still hangs, a silent plea,
A relic of past attempts to be free.
Is this my sign to escape the fight,
To yield my place, dissolved through the night?

But even as despair takes hold,
A flicker of warmth, defiant and bold:
A memory stirs, its light entwined—
Perhaps the voice I hear is mine.

I count my steps
So I won’t bleed out
And so you won’t start to hate me

I count them
So the world will stop
And all that’s left is me

I count them
Because I breath in colors
But colors don’t know how to speak

I count my steps
Because it’s not quite as lonely
When colors are walking beside me

I count them
Like it's the only thing
That's ever been important to me

I count them
As if it'll shield their eyes
24 hours 7 days a week

I stand on the shore of future.
I wait for sleep
to open up one more night for me.

I am not one of those shadows
that still seek their owner;
I am not like the wind that carries
the early spring smile
of the sun into a brighter space.

I begged too humbly
for a starry tear -
for a chance so refreshing
that love infects me, longing tickles
my calves.

I trusted too hastily the decade
when my last hour left me.
Are you the same word
that clung to lips too lonely to be true?

I stagger, although my feet -
worn in several places -
know perfectly well the cold paths
that lead beyond the gates
of annihilation.

I close my eyelids, spread my lips
so that a little scream can get through.
I do not want my thoughts
to collide with the wall.

I do not want the fog to stifle fear,
to make a whisper. It is impossible
for a body to fit into
a naked, cruelly frozen hand.

I am not mistaken. Your thought,
painfully broken, manifests itself
as a reprimand,
but too harsh to feel warmth.

A word, begun in a surge of helplessness,
becomes a spell - it depends
on which path my body chooses.

I am unable to live until kisses
stand at attention, until understatement
directs tenderness.

No, I have discovered once again
how many paths
it takes to lose death.
I do not hear the creaking
of your hands on the verge of innocence.

I do not feel your lips
sinking into a lie - too sterile for me
to give it a beginning.
I still argue with the signposts,
I do not believe in the transference
of light into darkness.

By accident I gave my life away -
fear appeared, an illusion so multi-angular
that I surrender to this role,
although I am a miserable hypocrite.

I will remove the last of sadness
from my lips for you.
For you I will saturate closeness,
I will please perdition.

The joy I dreamed of in the future
is reborn within me.
I feel fear coming back,
full of kind tears,
weighed down
by the purple **** of the sky.

Your senses, imprisoned in a cage
of illusions, today are only a complaint,
a doubt that cannot exist
on its own.

Evenings are delightful,
when the shadowy hand of night
combs your fair hair
with its fingers,
when kisses are so frail
that it is not difficult to rise again.

I'm dreaming about time again,
stripped of eternity.
I want the first heartbeat
to be yours alone.
Are you close enough for me
to understand that
I am smiling unnecessarily?

Find the key to loneliness
within yourself.
Get rid of the wind that has fallen
in love with your thoughts.
Is it enough to love
for the world to be resurrected?

I try to taste your warmth.
I want to understand
the silence
that fills your outstretched heart.

I know that the world
is close to
my desires.
I remember that the tenderness
returns when we talk about
tomorrow again.

The peace that only your passion
could give me spreads within me.
I am so close to your emotions,
I feel the sweet balast
of your words,
unnecessarily whispered.

I hide my face behind a curtain
of tears, anticipating the return
of the present.
Come, melancholy, find in me
the way back to the world.

Introduce me to the sky
that until now was exclusively yours.
I love your illusions, I appreciate
the hallucinations
behind which no hint of sadness,
no moment of freedom lurks.

The tenderness of your sad hands
seals my fear.
The proximity of sleep
makes me want to walk away
to the other side of the shadow.

I am so close to your desires
that silence boasts of its existence.
I do not want you
to fall in love
with my pregnant tears - introduce me
to the era for which
I would rather stay here.

My sky falls asleep
in your sunny embrace,
corporeality becomes a naive dream.
Sometimes I would like to open
my heart and get out of
this hermitage, but I know
that no horizon
will bear my weight.

It is only a tear focused on itself.
A shard of pain
that fills the emptiness in my soul.
My heart blooms in me,
soon it will bear forbidden fruit.

I remain susceptible to kisses,
to exquisite meetings of bodies.
I'm enjoying
the uncertainty here.