These days, situations from the past,
Are going around me so fast,
To test me how will I react,
In those situations where you have to act.

Almost the same people, same locations,
Only you avoiding those stations.
But you're still finding that way in this maze,
Even though I'm not the one who chase.
Not Anymore :)

To get in touch again,
It's hard, I know.
Relax, I'm preparing a great show.
After ten months, you found a reason to talk to me.
You realized - I miss her, I see.

I will do my best,
That in the end we can lay on each other's chest.

folding the sirens of
eternity in on themselves
as this scant hour
rebuilds its stage
over and
over
in the light of my eyes

already there is a perception
of being caught
in a loop - of a lesson
playing out
before a malady
of ignorance

i am free to see it
and i am free
to miss it

it is the long
breath
of the breaching
whale - an exchange
of currents for
the transformation of
sky into
ocean depths

it is
the
hidden union
in transience

recurring
in beautiful
obscurity

hollow hearts tear at the skin
lust and passion-idle friends
bottles clink during the day
shatter at night.
whispers turn to screams
as the end begins again

Shedding tears and laughing in her memories is a movie watched on loop by me.

Story of granny about the deceased shining as a star is the force driving me into asking all stars the reason for her deviation from the path of her promise of never leaving me alone.

Silences are her replies if she really exists in any of the stars.
Silhouttes of dark circles under my eyes is the waiting for her reply.

Her betrayal is a fire and I'm its victim.

We are a  circle
With neither a beginning,
Nor an end ;

Just me and You and
All our demons inbetween -

Hellfire may blaze
The meteor falls sidelined -
Uriel may stand poised , and
Deadly pestilences of the biblical kind
Ice and fire may reign
Yet - we will stay trapped
In that constricting ring
We birthed , our sad loyal child -


A circus devoid of comedy
Ladies, gentlemen -
This drama, our tragedy -


See the tiny scars etched hard,
The bruises, the marks,
The papery voices we use
To protest empty words;
Endless chasms borne into
Our chests ; These hearts —
They are empty.
Our arms, comfort seeking ;
The heads, our selves —
Caught in an infinite loop
Pulsing with an  old light
Like the one from a long dead star.