it’s like you always cut pieces of you
meant for people who don’t deserve you
keep looking for comfort
and finding smell of sulfur
on my breath, on my breast
i can’t have no rest,
i’m just too wicked,
i’m just too crooked,
and i bet you’re sick of my fickle ways.
oh, how long are the days
when you keep waiting for the blood to dry,
for the blade to dull,
now it’s too late to tell you goodbye.

heroin hope

the strangest case of heroin hope
that runs through my veins
and makes my head foggy,
it makes me so blind,
so bitter, so hot, so yearning,
it makes me want to shoot the skies,
maybe drop dead sometimes.
it’s just the strangest case of heroin hope,
the only method i can use to cope
with all the world,
the mess,
the death.
if i would’ve been blessed,
it would’ve been easier.
instead, i’m only here less and less,
i guess.


there are invisible threads from me to you,
connecting atoms, feelings, breaths of air.
there are invisible needs, or maybe wants from me to you,
and i don’t know how or when or if they’ll find their way back,
but it’s ok, because behind of all that threading, needing, and wanting
there is invisible scarring
just waiting to heal.


adun salbatice cuvinte,
si tot ce am acum in minte
e intrebarea daca el ma minte
cat eu stau si-l astept cuminte.
adun si rasuflari pierdute,
si nu mai are cine sa le-asculte
daca are sau nu cine sa m-ajute,
intre cafele cu arome de cucute.
adun tresariri ciudate,
si ceasul cand de miez de noapte bate
adu-ti aminte, dragul meu, ca sapte
sunt si-amare virtuti, si dulci pacate.


you can bend me,
but not break me,
mold me into cups so i can fit,
soon i’ll be spilling my guts outside of it,
and you’ll be left with overflowing rage.
you can stretch me,
but not break me,
pull at my insides from one corner to another,
soon i’ll be covering the whole world with wonder,
and you’ll be stuck underneath.
you can compress me,
but not break me,
squeeze my skull into my other bones,
soon i’ll have a river of blood close,
and you’ll get to drown in it.
my name is resilience,
that’s why you can’t break me.
even if you kill me,
my spirit will take me
away from this earth and into the minds
of people willing to listen this time.

stop teaching me your hate

why don’t you stop teaching me your hate,
just let me leave, or let me live my fate,
your words are knives, so blunt and rusty.
there is no shame, just shame forgotten,
i’m hungry and my insides rotten,
my spirit knows no modesty.
stop teaching me your hate,
and let me live my fate.


words are meaningless,
i fight the thoughts,
but without words,
it’s like i lack a thousand swords.

i’m being punished
for something that i truly am,
just ovaries, and uterus, and tears,
my blood and menses,
prickly legs,
unshaven armpits, nightmares from hell,
and everything i do, or think, or say,
just gets me through another awful day.
for you, the hairier the better,
for me, just ugly, barren, and unworthy.

i’m being punished
for wanting it all,
held accountable for every choice i make,
judged for passing the opportunity
to slave away beside you,
while you’re just another savior
that guides me, tells me what to do,
and sometimes smacks me,
throws me to the ground.
why do you kick so often
the air out of my lungs?
are you so scared of my so many tongues?
are you afraid that i will kick you down,
tear you apart,
maybe steal your crown?
no, i just want to act like you,
but without fear of being judged.
but all i can do right now is wash away my makeup smudge,
and sleep another sleepless night.

goodnight, my master,