Standstill

some while ago I was trying to pinpoint the exact moment when time started flowing so fast
i could barely remember how it was like before the ouroboros of deadlines,
the rash decisions and
the constant white noise headache.

and i know i wanted it back
the standstill
the near catatonic slow down of time
and then it happened

i inhaled and by the time i took my next breath a lifetime had passed,
history ran its course,
worlds died and were rebuilt

i remember the pain
spreading like wildfire
as my lungs were contracting
desperately reaching for the next gasp

i remember people screaming
but i couldn't make any sense of it
in all that rumbling noise
of collapsing atoms

there it was:
time stood still
in between the spark and the flame,
in the IV drip,
between the verse and the chorus,
trapped in the after-candles.

and then the world just kept on spinning...

Delirium

i'm like an addict in an opiate den
fumbling for my sanity under smoke clouds and other lost souls
trying hard to remember what it was like before
the moaning and the everlasting free fall feeling.
my senses dulled...
some of them up to the brink of complete extinction
words fail me more often now
as my voice cracks under pressure
their words hit the target just fine, though...

when did it all become so muddy,
I wonder
for how long has it been raining?

;)

we give and take.
it's a never ending cycle
that keeps us stuck on each other
in the best way possible.

this is how it works:
first, she cleared some space
in her pink feathery living room
and in her mornings
for his black drum kit.
now, he cluttered her day
with gifts and all his love
and that smile of hers
made it all worth it.

make sense

take a deep breath and dive.
wouldn't that be nice
would it not be perfect in its simplicity
wouldn't you just like that?

that bitter taste on the tip of your tongue,
that constant headache that won't subside,
the gut wrenching fear circling you,
that scream you've just stifled
or the way your wrists burn
because the rope finally cut into the flesh.
I wish I could tell you it's all in your head
but we both know I'd be lying.

scattered is an understatement
and at this point
metaphors don't do much for the soul
so why bother?
why try and make sense of it all
when sanity is clearly at stake
and the weather man is forecasting hailstorms?

because ego is stupid like that
and sheer stubbornness trumps the preservation instinct.

too many

how far
can you stretch out your thoughts  until they snap
like rubber bands kept in the scorching sun
how long
can you maintain this smile you have
until the cracks start showing thin and dark
right at the corners of your mouth
then running up into those tired eyes
how hard
is it to keep this mask
when fingernails are scratching at the edges
how many
sleepless nights will you count still
how many of them etched down in your ledger
how much
it takes from you to keep
all of the darkness bottled up
how many graves are there to dig
for all the remnants of your past

down the rabbit hole

can you not feel it?
curiosity nudging you to take a peak,
to search for answers
even behind closed doors...
especially there.

I have this weird thing
when I look at a door:
I can't help but be curious of what's inside.
who lives there?
how is it decorated?
are the rooms flooded with light
or do they hide in the shadow of their curtains?

I think you figured that out about me
and you left your door unlocked on purpose.
you knew I couldn't stand not knowing
what's behind the brick wall
so you left the hallway light on.
all I had to do was follow and sneak inside.
it was the best ride down the rabbit hole
with all those corridors twisting and turning
weaving in and out into endless loops,
wonders hidden behind every corner.
I got lost a couple of times
but I felt so at home that it didn't matter.

Red

I am red.
I am fire and scorch,
the smoldering hot stare
that turns stones into ashes.

it took me a long time to find it.
it took doubt and wrong turns,
centuries of trial and error,
of scraped knees and bruised ego.
so no.
your double edged questions
are not welcome.

I am red.
I am love and warmth,
the steady arm that holds you up
when your knees are trembling.

I used to fear it.
like one fears death or blindness
like you would fear the dark
or the unknown;
a clown: evil blood lips
and sad pasty white face,
as if they don't belong together.
then it suddenly made sense.

red is simple like that:
it grows on you...
or rather you grow into it.

shared purple

do you think she's got courage?
I know that it might not seem like it
if you're looking through the same old dusty lens
that limited so many others.

oh, but she does.
to lay herself on paper like that
all in, no take backs
almost naked...
but for the fragile purple dreams covering her soul.

it takes guts
and half an ounce of madness
to dissect your inner world
and neatly display it for public viewing.

and you...
yes you, the purple dream keeper.
you rock!

lacquered smile

we are all mask traders
elegantly gliding in between
up to the point we can't tell them apart:
lie and reality
warping into one collective hallucination.

who do we think we're fooling
when we change one mask for another
thinking no one will see the cracks,
the pain, the exhaustion
behind the lacquered smile?

i'd call bullshit
but my new mask isn't broken in yet,
it's still a bit rigid round the edges of my thoughts
so i can't quite enunciate the words right.
every time i try it comes out as
"that's nice"(insert smile *here*)
when what I actually meant was
"I DON'T CARE. period"

fragment

somul uită să mai vină
în gene mov,
în culcuș de rugină.

ideile-n schimb aleargă haotic,
țipă, se-mping de-a valma
nevrotic piciorul se-nvârte pe loc
brațul așteaptă impuls
sau cuvânt
din miezul de foc
gura soarbe flămând
de parcă răspunsul se află arzând
timpul în foi de tutun.

trupul renunță,
voința la fel
somnul, în fine, renunță și el.

whimsical

i know this chick
she's something special
and maybe she doesn't hear it enough
or she doesn't listen close enough
'cause she should know this already.

she's one of those people
that for some reason just stick with you
like cotton candy.
she's whimsical
and silly in the best way,
maybe a bit naive and unasuming
and possibly too quiet-spoken.
but she is also fiercely determined
and boy, she is smart!
she's got that old soul vibe,
the hunger for knowledge
that you can't fake.

yeah, she's young and impacient
and she makes mistakes
but she learns and grows with them.

child, trust yourself with the hard choices.
somewhere beneath the surface
burried under rules, fears and conventions
beats a strong heart.
trust it.

cafea in 2

iubirea nu e o constanta,
nu e pentru totdeauna
si n-are unitati de masura.
n-o mai cauta degeaba
in gesturi teatrale din productii grandioase,
in risipa de cuvinte
si-n miscari atent studiate.
promisiuni desarte si nimic altceva.
sa nu crezi ca e sfioasa
ori ca s-ar ascunde...
doar ca e simpla
si apare cand nu o chemi:
fractiuni de spontaneitate.

iubirea nu-i un bilet de avion
cumparat cu 6 luni in avans
ci sfertul ala de ora de cafea bauta in 2.

?

ce faci cu zilele astea parșive
care-ți promit primavara
da-ți mușcă meschin din suflet
când tu, ca fraierul, visezi fluturi?
zilele astea
când îți vine să-ți iei câmpii
urlând a pustiu pe păduri?
înșiruirile astea nefaste de ore
care par că nu se mai termină...

le ierți?
le uiți?
le rogi frumos?