The morning light was yet demanding. There was a taste in my mouth of something long gone. I did not know how the story was supposed to go from now on, but the morning light was demanding for action. I really wanted to refuse the world in those empty mornings but that was not a… Continue reading A way to be
In any case, for me being published means being in excruciating pain and saying it out loud. Тhat is a form of bravery in my world. It was never about the possible popularity or the attention of my acquaintances, or the questions everyone would start to ask. It was about being able to communicate all the… Continue reading right where
So, my first poetry collection is coming to life. This is for all the sufferings and calamities of personality that I have seen for my 20 years on our beloved Planet Earth. It is available to purchase from Janus Publishing website, I attach the link below. I also want to thank endlessly Janus for the… Continue reading Poetry collection
Maybe someday we could take our time, and I could show you this love of mine. And you could use your words so fine, and nothing would leave us blind. We’ll run on the pavement of clouds, and lowly we’ll leave our doubts. And nothing will fool us false. I want to forever be close.… Continue reading as of now
No one's ground, no one's fault. no one's decision, no one's mistake. It's just the way the world spins and the sun rises. That's just the way the waves roll and the birds sing. Only if there was someone to hear them, to see them. People occupied, preoccupied, reoccupied, too occupied with the world that… Continue reading No one’s ground
Too close to my skin. I'm falling in the borderline. A fitting representation of two souls as one.
It’s truly a stasis. Hold big thoughts and spend them on nothing. The doors are closing now, run to the window. I’ll catch you down and sell you for what’s finally `clear`.
That’s not me who you see. That’s where I live. It’s not me who walks on those sidewalks, who goes up and down the stairs. It’s not me who crosses the street. It’s not me who looks at you. It’s what I look through. It’s where I live now. That’s where my eternity is put… Continue reading Soul Disconnected
These little black dots just came out of their oblivion. They try to form themselves again on the other side. I like that try, I like that someday in which it all be worthy. But the message will never arrive, the birds dropped it in the ocean of forgetfulness. The idea is gone. But look… Continue reading The effeteness