More often than not I’m hurt,
suffering through broken toes,
biting my lips,
crippled spirit.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
is that my love tastes like liquorice
combined with nasty bile
and it smells like lilies in full bloom.
Is there something else you’d like to know?
Or is the thought of me enough
to poison you?


Some dreams I dream them wide awake
Looking for smiles in the darkest corners,
Carrying your memory with me
Across the seas and mountains
I keep in my heart your kindness,
Love and care,
You were my best friend,
The only one who cared for me even when I didn’t deserve it.

All Too Well

So many words are minced,
swallowed before being tasted,
and feelings are broken before being felt,
and nothing tastes like summer
even though there are 40 degrees outside,
no wind in sight,
no love in mind,
and can we pretend we’re independent now?
So many things are lost in between
breaths that mean nothing,
so many weird dreams are broken before we even close our eyes,
and so many sunrises start before midnight,
only to die down at 2 am
when nothing good ever happens,
but cold hands,
and the awkwardest of hugs.

Little Lemonade

I can’t get well,
Everything in me is so deeply,
Fanatically disturbed,
And all this life tastes like stupid lemonade
Made out of fake plastic lemons
With spoonfuls of sugar
Made out of my blood.
And everything is dripping light,
Horrendous light piercing my eyes,
And all the sounds are trouble.
I wonder if I’ll sleep tonight
Or dream of you and cuddle
The monsters that live in my belly,
Trying to claw their way out of me.

I’d Love It If We Made It

I’d love it if we made it,
This world of our is so complete,
Inside my head,
Between these old bones of mine,
I’d love it if we made it real.
Stop wasting time,
Stop wasting me away,
As I disintegrate in salty tears,
Irrational fears are eating me away.
I’d love it if we made it,
I’d be happy if we could just pretend to make it.
Fuck your feelings.


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.