today i went to a therapist
with all my answers rehearsed
and i didn't say "good afternoon"
instead, i told her i'm sorry
that i was going to waste her time -
and the walls of that beautiful room
listened to me for the first time
talking about

how rarely i remember to take a shower
(and i do it only when i stink)
how ashamed i feel that i laugh too much
(but it was only to please people)
how embarrasing is to say that i was *****
(but i also wanted attention from them)
how dizzy i feel when i'm in a crowded place
(i've always thought that i'm autistic)
how merciless overthinking can be
(and it plays in my head like a broken record)

and i started crying

wanderers of our days
black and misty
who don't cry when
nobody has a kind word for them
why are we?
our life is a burning hole
and they live in the matchbook
where souls made of alcohol
are on fire
what do they do now?
but nobody knows
where those poor taverns fell

you told me that what goes around comes around
but if it comes around so rarely
just like my own happiness
it means that you can live in sin today
and i don't have the one of victimisation

the serenades of a wet crow
at the edge of a living cliff
full of light and buds
heard only by
those blackened with drops of ink
holding a mourning handkerchief
now look again at the top of the tree
another one is taking flight.

i waited for you to get out of the wreck car
to slam the spiked doors of insomnia
and then to step in the puddles of ***** stars
with drops of silver silence spilling out
don’t dare to walk soft through those
buildings of warm milk
because streets don’t sleep
they always sing to the rhythm of songbirds;
and then, shout it to the deep windows
and pray for the nights that pass

you're like a babycry
buried in a corn field
when the soul of our sun
beats under your hat
craving for a drought
and you start to sink deeper
inside your own body
just like I try to hide out
in the scarf of the wind -
it's looking for me
and I'm looking for you
right, right under your hat
as if I were a weak shadow
that asks for solace
under the ****** sunset -
hot.

(i'm going to talk crazy, so grab me by the blue collar
and scream to my chest, just like you wanted yesterday
then you can cut my blonde hair and swallow it
no wonder that you became so thin and weak-kneed
then take my heart rate and turn it into a majestic crater)


your windows are frozen, my lipstick is hot
tell me what you choose and i'll tell you now
whether my sparkle water will ever stay in your neck;
today those cranes are leaking onto your shoulders
just like hope dies whenever a star falls from the night
(I knew Fata Morgana is still alive, you didn't)
you're telling me that the sky is talking over my shoulder
and the ground is moaning behind our eyes
you'd want to be like them, tilting with windmills
and winning;

my mother was water and my father was fire
sure thing that I came out steam
forever convicted of ether
but you know, we’re as miserable as
your worn out shoes
maybe only when we sell our souls
we start to love more
just like stars shine brighter
when they fall
(don’t frown like a phlegmatic astrologer
our city won’t sleep tonight)
i’ve heard that unhappiness is trendy now
don’t you know about second hand love?
i was wandering for so long just to find yours
like the skunk of the world
where are you?
why am i talking, we’re emotionally broke
sitting on a park bench
sometimes poverty was everything i hold dear
because the diamonds belong to, hmm, men
Eve wasn’t deceived by the serpent
she was tempted by the man
but what’s a woman?
she’s exactly what the man can never be