"The night she bathed into the light
Came with the blessings of your heart
And strong she was to your good sight,
So fragile in appearances yet so bright!

That light came slowly caressing the night,
Embracing her soul for the fairest fight,
So strong, still, too fragile for the part
Written on walls and danced to the right

Height. Looking up, stare into the blight
Of all sorrow ed-souls I saw how you fell apart
And it ached my soul, what solutions, right
To find? What Word for you... crave straight. "

Music to...

©Theodora Oniceanu

Sometimes, I fear that the passing of time

will be the ruin of all that makes up of me.

I hope not to be the consequence of

destruction by distraction-

fading away within the fleeting of life.

Sometimes, I fear my

responsibilities becoming like a weapon

for involuntary manslaughter.

I do not want each day to erode my soul to dust.

All of what I am

becoming the ground beneath

conformity.

I do not want hazy eyes in a dazed filled life,

each step I take almost simultaneously.

I do not wish the world to warp

my individuality.

I want to devote to my own

ideal of integrality.

And remember all of the

persistent passions

that have coursed relentlessly

through my veins,

morphing all that's evolved to me.

the stars have aligned within my bedroom ceiling
as every potential life of mine passes before dinner time
the luck I have to be so passionate of the paint on my canvas
and the way I flip my eggs in the morning
how to understand Fibonacci's sequence in the way of the art
but also in the way of where I place my keys

do you know what it is to feel so deeply?
about the light that strikes my porcelain heart so perfectly
but also the way my plant leaves shine in the window's glow

do you know what it feels like to have it all?
every single artisans gave me it all in one touch
I'm a wicked traveler of space and time
I would live a million lives if I could
it may be a blessing, but it may be a curse
because choosing one would be the saddest of it all

I have never felt like this before. Telling this story, without any lore.
No backstage, no lights, no music behind, just me and my monotony, gazing at the moon, letting it pass-by.
This sleepless night.

Even if I have given up all hope, I still want to fight. Against these odds, climbing up these ladders, looking up to the wandering skies.  

I have fell to the ground, numerous times, left with naught but dust to bite.

Wings clipped, spirits soaked in fire. Eyes dead, tired of these rants, these ironies without satire.  

Pick me up, even if my soul bears no weight. For I'm left with but a husk of a person, I once used to admire.

Lemme go, lemme reignite my passions. My heart and soul, lemme sing these songs, as I let it all go, set myself on fire.

warmth, i spew to you,
with time, you must choose,
feed me fuel or let me die.


- a.r.Camm

She dreams of the ideal man,
   but the suitor idolizes death in his soulful slumber.
She takes care of herself,
   though she cannot bestow her beauty to impressionists.
She falls in love,
   yet her delusional passions seethe her in disarray.
She finds new friends,
   but a ******* of overzealous poison tarnishes the relationship.
She cooks for more than one;
   ghosts accompany the reserved empty chairs.
She re-models her home,
   driven to impress; however, she is the only one impressed.
She longs for attention,
   craving for a taste of wanting to be loved.
She is she,
   and she is her own canvas.

(each stanza is a haiku - I think I’m in a Haiku phase)*

I never think of
drinking tea - that's just not
me - but I like it

there are a thousand
things like that which define us
- our many small choices

Are our passions choices?
"Our wild passions instruct us"
- said wise Shakespeare.

I don't choose to
quicken my heart at the sight
of one special boy

so I'm not sure
how that works, the pushes and pulls
of attractions grab

But the effect stills
and taxes the heart like maple
syrup thickened blood