Lume

Am omorat un suflet pentru tine.
Era amar, stiai deja prea bine,
Dar nu-ti pasa de el, si nici de tine,
Si gandul iti era la concubine.
Diverse plaiuri si gramezi semete
S-au adunat sa te dezvete
De gesturile arogante si marete
Si de cafele fara politete.

Am batucit pamantul asta lat,
Am incercat si-am suspinat
Tot incercand sa dau ce n-am de dat,
Doar castigat-am cupa cu cacat.
Diverse ganduri, negre toate,
Ascunse dupa ploape-n noapte,
Imbracate doar in vanturi, soapte,
Trei jumatati si inc-o parte.

Am cautat ce n-am avut de ingropat
Si nu am dat, si n-am furat,
Si tot ce-n lumea ast-am adunat
Ti-am dat ‘napoi, cu sufletul curat.
Diverse amintiri din viata mea
Le retraiesc, desi n-as vrea,
Privind pe geamul fara stea,
Si ma intreb de ce nu vrea sa stea.

O, siguranta fara nume,
Pamant uitat asa anume,
In epoca straina, fara glume,
Eu am uitat sa mai traiesc in lume.

We Were Liars

We were liars, we were smoke.
That was utter, fuckin’ dope.
But we weren’t real or not,
I am supposed to. I forgot.
We were sunsets all around,
My hands buried all that ground,
All I did was scream and sleep,
With your claws inside me, deep.
We were once, but now we’re not.
Please, oh, please, just fuckin’ stop.
All this non sense, all this hate,
Look, it’s only half past eight.

Home

I remember touches, here and there, as if those skins that were near me at one point were made of some kind of fabric only the universe knows.
I remember sounds that light up the room, even if all the drapes are down, and the smell of those sounds scare me more than death itself.
I remember how sweet is the color orange… No, the color red combined with orange, in the pale light of the sunset. That color used to sing me lullabies until I fell asleep, and at one beautiful, lonely point in my life, it was more than enough.

I do not wish to remember all kisses I gave for nothing, all the embraces I lost to some people. All those moments of pure friendship spent on people who thought I steal, I do evil, I am fat, or ugly, or nothing. All those moments when I wasn’t the number one choice I wish them forgotten, and buried, and burnt, and lost.

I remember being lighter. I remember being love. And now I want to come back to that point, because it was the only point I felt like home.

Good Boy

The self titled good boy
will pretend to ask and care
and he’ll pretend to just be there,
only that he’s so-so busy,
my darling,
but I swear I won’t treat you like a toy.
The self titled good boy
will ask if you prefer your boys dirty,
with manly attitude
and balls to spare,
and he’ll pretend to treat you like a queen.
Be careful when you break that screen.