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.

în ultimele zile

în ultimele zile, doar la sfârşit de lume mă mai pot gândi.
şi nu am linişte,
nu am nimic,
n-am zvâc, trăire, pace sau cuvinte,
şi toţi mă-ntreabă de nimic.
în ultimele zile le-adun pe toate, şi tot îmi ies cu minus.
dar oare câte minciuni de bine am tot spus,
la ceas de seară, la apus,
tăcut, grăbit, cu zarvă-n buze?
mai e ceva pe lume să m-amuze?
în ultimele zile, ultimele ore, ultimele minute şi secunde
mă dumiresc de faptul că trăim degeaba,
cuvintele tot trec pe lângă noi,
şi uite,-mi bate-n uşă ceasul de apoi…
în ultimele zile-ar trebui să şi răspund
la uşi şi întrebări şi strigăte de noapte.
dar nu mai am putere şi m-ascund,
de bine, rău, de fapte toate.


I keep inside definitions of what I should be. I should be good. Better. Stronger. More assertive. Resilient. Stubborn until I reach perfection. And above else, I should be feeling.

But that’s the problem, with the feeling. I try to pry open my heart, my mind, my body and my soul, to make room for something more. I project these aspirations onto other people, people I know how wrong are for me, and yet, I chose to think that no, maybe it’s my fault.

But in the end, it is not. I am not at fault for chosing the wrong people and failing. However, I am fault when I force myself to feel. This is beyond allowing yourself to be happy, it is forcing yourself. Some days I realize just that, but on other days it feels like I’m picking at old scabs, and I can feel the warm blood pouring out of me, and I’m stuck in the spiral of shame, guilt, frustration, stubborness, and self hate.

I’m not sure how I should manage all of this, but choosing intentionally the wrong persons, knowing that they will never, ever respond or understand you, it’s a slow death sentence of the soul. And my soul has been through enough death, thank you very much. I’d really like to see how it’s like to be alive.


drumuri departe, drumuri aproape,
dar n-am cuvinte sa-ti spun ce ma desparte
de degete de copil, priviri de barbat,
comportament de femeie si foame de bestie.
si toate-s in tine, sparte de mine,
reflectate de tacerile pe care le las sa tina prea mult,
nascute din durerile pe care le-am adunat demult…
stii ca-ntre noi doi te-aleg tot pe tine.

i am the settler

settleri’m in the settling business,
because my life is never my own,
never myself,
and i will never grow,
but all the colors i’ve shown
believe me, they’re real,
and they help me heal,
be it with scars and faded lucks,
be it with love or jaded fucks.
i’m in the settling business,
because my life is never my own.
this clock is ticking,
my blood keeps dripping,
and all of the times i spent away
brought me here, this day,
to tell you that i don’t own me.
my life was never mine,
i’ve given it to people who never had the time
to make themselves better.
i am the settler.