end of spring

I take a step back and stare at you

you who used to be like my skin

covering my body

so close

now so alien

I take a step back and stare at you

your promises ringing

all those small and quiet words

flowing...

all lies

I take a step and stare at you

you who seem to have forgotten

of me

I guess we're seasonal

and like flowers do,

bound to wither...

now that spring is almost gone

you too have left me

uprooted 

so I take a step back and look at you

one last time

friend...

bathroom floor [incomplete]

bathroom floor 

at 1am

staring into the darkness

which reaches out from the sink

bathroom floor

at 1am

reaching for the drain plug

from the tub

bathroom floor

at 1am

watching the sparks

going out of me

bathroom floor

at 1am

wondering what good

to have them all starting fires

bathroom floor 

at 1am

a shell on the shelf

whispers of lost oceans,

liquids quickly gulped down

just last week

bathroom floor

at 1am

the walls crumbling down

stone after stone

grasping

at the emptiness ahead

before turning 

into dust

bathroom floor

at 1am

who am I ?

what have I done

to put out the fire?

bathroom floor

at 1am

maybe I should just get up

...

type of wrong

center of me burns

begging for water

a hurricane to wash over

destroy and resurrect

submerge this fire

let if sizzle

like the sun does

at dusk

and when it's drowned

when it stops breathing

take your hands

and let it go

it goes and goes and goes

falling liquidly

drowning 

while the universe reverses

and planets, stars

they all align

and it floats through space

the big blue

they said it's darkness

that shines

but they've never seen

so much light

and as it travels

submerged

it loses track

of all that matters

there's the fire

sparkling

twisting

underwater

take my fire

and kill it, I asked.

don't give it wilderness

for it expands

consuming me.

feeling

i feel like i should sleep

a long, long sleep

i feel like i should lay

down beneath the sea

buried all under sand

i feel like i should mute
my thoughts, my heart
leave the static sound
to buzz on
i feel i should lay low
lower and lower
till lava engulfs me whole

i feel i shouldn't laugh
but you're staring like that...
i feel like i should move
as if possessed, a scarecrow,
a controlled puppet, i...
i feel I should flap my wings
and go

i feel i should be blue
not with sorrow, but as in the colour
i feel like i should be white
not as in the colour, but with sorrow

i feel i should be alone
but when the darkness comes, i wish
i weren't, that i won't and never will be
truly alone

i feel i should be covered in thorns
and pick at them with laughing eyes
weeping
i feel i should have the right
to curse out loud
this damned heart!

i feel i should feel you
crawling on my skin, under it,
all over my bones,
inside my dna
and drag yourself out
through my pursed lips

i feel i should let myself move
into yet another flight
which i yet postpone so eagerly
to meet a masochist ending...

i feel i should do something
yet idly i'm waiting
a continuous falling
while the entire universe is turning
spinning, growing
i shrink,
a spec of dying light

i feel i should let this ocean
swallow me whole
flood this body
flood this mind
till i am full
of you

and yet i'm staring at the moon.

adrift

adrift in blue

lost

the moon above shifts into sun

he eyes opened on white

calmness swirling all around

her hair - coagulated blood on magical blue

her white gown - the virginal foam of dead waves
her whole being - wasted stardust...

adrift in blue

deserted

the stars above go left and right

but none shines as she floats away

betrayed with her eyes wide awake

she left all reason

abandoned her will

while pulled apart by water

adrift in blue

blinded

she forgot the Sun is a star as well

horizon ahead - close, closer yet far, far away

gentle currents pierce her back together

and yet she's losing it slowly

absolutely

adrift in blue

running

her mind tries going back where the body can't

faster - the universe is spinning backwards

slower - her body floats endlessly

such disaster her body couldn't take it

while the mind kept fighting

adrift in blue

running away

she's there where she's being seen

but suddenly no longer

submerged in the azure

she disappears within the tricky serenity

adrift in blue

you can no longer see her

but she's there

and chills go down your spine

as you know you bathed in her tears

as you understand that tranquility is her whole soul

and you try to swim away...

but oh, how she calls

deceptive, her eyes

always awake underneath the endless blue

you just cannot look away

and the horizon blue copy of the sky above

adrift in blue

lost

she emerges without a sound

still instilled with stillness

decaying numb body

pulled apart by an agile mind

but she'd do it all again

that drowning.

turn

I seem to keep coming back when darkness hits me from the inside. I thought it gone, vanished, pulverized into tranquility... but no, it's here, banging on the inside in my chest asking to be let out. And I'm scared, terrified that once out I'll never be able to contain, fold it to the back of mind, conceal its shadows. I'm scared that I'll pick on my oldest wounds, remind my body about the thousand knives that are to come. I'm scared that once out me, the me I came to like, the me that allowed to smile even a little bit under the bandages that kept me nicely intact, the me that fought - I'm scared it will die, slowly transforming into dust.

I have darkness in me. The type of darkness you usually take to therapy has nested inside of me, its teeth of insecurities biting on my rib cage, acid tornadoes of 'maybe's and 'perhaps's wrecking the quiet settlements of my brains. This darkness forces my eyes down on the tip of my shoes and my apologies out from the tip of my tongue. This darkness chases me into complete silence, close on the right to the Oblivion. And falling is only a matter of time...

Maybe you've been there or maybe you're still there, lingering, pacing around it's edges... how did you survive your darkness? Here it's raining and light it's fading away while the number of stretched out hands gets smaller as I am forced to acknowledge the depths of this darkness, laughing back at myself while I keep silent on the outside. How do you keep yourself safe, away from falling? Is alone enough for survival? Can my fingers hold tight on the edge and not let go of them? Can I trust them and not give into temptation to just... let go?

Tell me, you who have been there, can I dress up the holes on the inside and shush down the wind that's howling... can you hear it? A deafening hiss of silence, like an invisible serpent that's in there, entwining himself around my heart and the darkness that can't wait to take over. Can I paint them over and pretend it's skin, as if I'm normal, not wounded or bleeding, not bearing old scares on my mind? Or maybe I could just empty my entire body of blood and turn into a cadaver with sparkling eyes and a smile that says "Don't mind me, everything's just fine."

I don't think you know either, how to keep on breathing when silence is so deafening, when the war itself is tired of fighting, when alone is all you have... because alone is all you have. You can surround yourself with all the humans on the planet and they can all love you strongly, deeply, 'cause you'd still be alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. It's a dramatic word, but at least it can't let you down, it doesn't give up on you when darkness pulls you under.

Maybe giving in, going under and drowning is the best my conservation instinct can come up to. If so, who am I to say no to? Drowning would still be a better exit from this scene than listening to all the raindrops falling over me while holding on the edge... yes, drowning should be warm.

And if I end up turning to the darkness, please forgive me for I'll no longer be me.

u

forgive my unworthy self

for reaching for you

i bear your slap

like a warrior his wounds

i wrap it in bloody laps

but the burn just won't go away

from my heart

these pills

happy pills

will bring a new tomorrow

when today is nothing but mud

at the bottom of a pool

these pills

if i were to swallow

i think they'd make you happy

knowing i left

drifted to another self

these pills

will make you master

while i'll fall in disgrace

like flowers from a sick tree

i will not finish my blooming

these pills

will build me a ladder 

to all skies if i reach

wouldn't make me happier

than having left you behind

in this silence i know

you are but a shadow

the road is wide enough

for us to pass

shoulder by shoulder

and as you brush past me

i'll see your back

and stars will all dawn

but at least i'll be alone

with only myself

and i do not call out the darkness of mind

The Mug

Today I broke my favourite mug. It was stained and old, a little chipped and yellowed by time, but faithful to my thirsty lips, loyal to my broken fingers. But today, even she wanted to walk away. And so it slipped away from my trembling fingers...

I knelt next to it, took it into my hands as broken as it was, not really knowing what to do with the shards that could not be glued back together. Their rough edges looked so desolated and confused, so broken in their porcelain white innocence that tears gushed rives down my cheeks, flooding my lips and chin. They were bitter and salty seas as I tried to see the shards through their foam, they were a thunderstorm in my ears while I tried to hear them turning into dust in my hands. 

And there on the floor I sat, mourning the loss of my mug, away from the maddening world, confined inside my tiny room, breathing out the air that floated in through the open windows. The more I cried, the sleepier I got and soon I fell and fell into thick, warm and liquid darkness, velvet-like oblivion which surrounded me like a shroud. It wasn't scary, it wasn't hard, it wasn't... anything.

I just fell through murmurs and whispers.

I fell and never got up, just like my mug.

And it was a good mug.

My pretty dream

Inside my frustrated and overworked heart, I keep this dream hidden from the eyes of the world. I had it prettily wrapped in pink paper, a red ribbon keeping it all together while the walls of my heart keep resisting under a siege of waves of blades that cut in deep flesh with their dull edges, cracking open wounds that I'm still waiting to transform into ugly scars. But they keep bleeding while I stuff that pretty dream under ruins of ancient remains of a soul that might have lived other lives as well.

I keep no more hope for me. For this world stripped me of all that was pretty and shamed me with my own reflection, forcing me to crawl into the darkness I so hated. And like you peel off a fruit to reach its core in search of its sweetness, I'm peeling my own mind of fears and try to reach the core of it and save whatever is there left to be saved.

And while my walls crack open to reveal my stitched up skeleton, I rush upwards the spiral stairs, scratching my soles in my rush to reach my pretty dream. Now, my sole reason to hang on is this tiny, pink package, to keep its flame burning alive even in the darkest abyss.

My dream is frail. It was born before term and so I know it cannot breathe on its own completely. But as I keep it in my arms and close to my body I somehow hope or maybe wish for it to grow, rip off the pink paper and fly to better skies.

My frail dream sleeps most of the time. 

My dream... will never live on to come true, that I know. And yet, a tiny piece of me looks at it with hopeful eyes while I touch its smoky figure with hungry fingers that seem to have a mind of their own.

My dream, darling dream, when I call out to your murderers to stand for trial, I will be the only one to raise on two and bow down in front of you. And I know you won't see me, for you'll be long gone, but I'll keep remembering the darkness of the guilt.

My dream, darling dream to be one day deeply loved by a man who smiles only at me, showing dimples of kindness and his soul in his eyes, a man like a shelter against all storms... I know you'll die.

Locked doors

In an enclosed place

With lots of locked doors.

I alone sit in an open space,

My box of secrets scattered,

Unlocked and unsafe...

And still, those who come in

Intrigued by the locked doors

Sit in front of them for hours,

Pass by me, ignore my open self

For the darkness behind the locks.

They come and come,

Crowds of people come and go

And not a single one looks at me

At how I wear myself bare

Of secrets,

Of scars,

Of feelings of disdain. 

How can a locked door

Be more appealing to you

Than I who shows herself like this?

I could take your unimpressed looks

But this ignorance, as if there is no I

As if my open space is just a loop,

A void hole where sight cannot reach...

And I would tell you everything,

Feelings put in words,

Scars in monochrome lights,

If you'd only look at me,

In my eyes...

If only you'd see me,

For who I am

And take this void inside

And fill it with something else

Than bitterness and disappointment.

If only...

But you're just like any other crowd

Aren't you?

You come and go

Only interested in those locked doors.

But there's only darkness locked away

So that I can be safe with only myself.

My monsters, my demons, my howls,

Should I just release them all?

For your entertainment

I'd do it all...

Crown On Her Head

He sits there, across the table, the pages scattered in his lap and making him look as if even he doesn't really know what he's supposed to say or do next. I find him funny and for a second I try to imagine how a date with him would look like. Is he usually messy or it's just when he's in here? Would he spill his drink on him, in a courageous attempt to gulp the drink in a manly one shot?

But then he looks me in the eyes and my thoughts fly away like scared birds on a late winter day.

"Do you cry?"

"Who doesn't?" I choke on a smile and shrug his stare off by looking somewhere above his head.

"When did you last cry?"

I pause there for a moment with a bitter smile. "You know, last night I started watching a new TV show. The tags said 'comedy' and 'romantic'. I thought it was a good choice to brush off loneliness and gray thoughts, so I got cosy in front of the screen. The first episode wasn't funny at all. It was bitter and sad. And I cried. I cried for the poor fate of a very ordinary woman, realizing at the same time that her reality was mine as well and that this world is such a sad and superficial place to live in."

"Why sad?"

"Because whenever you dream big, out of your league, you're brutally brought down and stepped on. Everyone wants to teach you a lesson sooner or later. That's the sad truth, I'm sorry," I slump on my seat, scratching the leather and wishing I was somewhere in the sky, a burning bubble of gas, cold and distant, unaware of the surroundings.

"And why superficial?"

"You know why that lady in the TV show made me cry?" I lean in closer and look him in the eyes.

"No, why?"

"Because she was fat. She was fat and considered a failure from every single point of view. No one looked at her with compassion. Not to say that except for her mother, no one loved her! And the poor being had so much love in her, you know? So many feelings she was bottling up day by day, giving out nothing but love and taking care of everyone. She knew she wasn't anything special and she wished for another type of living. But she actually cared too much for those around her to do anything extreme. Until life decided to do it for her. Don't you find it sad, doctor?"

"So you identified yourself with this character and cried because...?"

"Because I wonder why we can't see what's on the inside, rather than judge what's on the outside. Because we do not see we're but shells and stellar dust and that when we'll get old, beauty and slenderness won't survive to the diseases that will take over our bodies. Because people don't understand that being fat is not a choice. Just like there are a lot of natural skinny persons, there are people that cannot lose weight or that get fat really easily, no matter how little they eat! But no... we're too much centered on good looks and bling-blings, rather than on what really matters."

"And you cried because...?"

"Because I saw her sell her soul to the devil for a little bit of happiness and I wondered if I should do the same," I play with my fingers in my lap. "I wondered if I should throw myself away and fill in someone else's shoes and lead a life of lies and pretending. So you tell me, doctor, what's wrong with me? Why am I like this? Maybe it's melancholy?"

He looks at me and seems to ponder over whether disclosing or not the name of the disease to me. And he just sighs and looks over his notes once more, biting the end of his pencil. 

Smiling, I stand up. "You're over-analyzing me right now, doctor," I pick up my coat and purse. "You see, there's one thing I learned during these lonely years."

"What's that, miss?"

"That depression comes silently, without making a parade over its crowing in one's heart and mind."

The letter

It's so stuffy inside here that I can no longer breathe and I start looking for a way out. It never ended, did it? No matter how much I tried to forget, no matter if I denied my memories - nothing really helped, did it? No, it did nothing but pick on my scars and transform me into the walking dead that I am, a scarred monster that's afraid of every shadow around, including my own reflection in the old mirror.

I will not hate again. I will not let those black flames consume my soul, eat my vibes and take away my smiles. I will not hate again and let you stay on my mind any longer. I will not hate again. You won't be the subject of my negative idolization and come to life in my dreams, haunting my life even when you're not around.

I will not hate you. I don't want to. It's not pleasant and it's not pretty. Instead, I will fold your memory and put it in this tiny box that I will lock inside one of the oldest drawers of my mind - the drawer where I stock unimportant events. And I will forget all about your existence. From the moment I lock your tiny, almost molecular box, you will cease to exist for me. No, I will not hate you - instead, I will deny you any rights of living inside my head. 

I pledge to smile even when meetings occur and your presence reminds me of the things you greedily wanted for yourself even if they belonged to me. Now you've got them all and I'm pitiful while you're almighty. Hope you're happy. I am happy with losing to you... because you're nothing but another stranger.

It's funny that I've bid you goodbye so many times before and yet, I am still hurt by your petty insult. Yes, this is me, one of those few that are left on this dying Earth which know what being loyal to a friend means. So you get to laugh in the end. You get to laugh and be happy; why wouldn't you be? After all, you've stole enough from me: my innocent thoughts, my love for you, my first memory of loving someone else but my mother.  But it's alright. I'll lock them all in another tiny box and they'll be swallowed by yet another black hole. Like that which threw you into Oblivion...

I will not hate you. I'm trying very hard here, you see? To be better than you; a better human, a better person, a better me. I won't regret, I know that and it doesn't hurt either. I should have chase you out eons ago. Instead, I let you grow inside of me like a poisonous maggot.

I will not hate you. I am sincerely trying to keep my promise to myself. I don't want to lead my life through one sole thought. So, I will depose of you tonight, right now.

Let's never meet again, huh? Let's never again pretend to have known each other and play a charade for the ones around us, ok? Let's never remember summers and late nights, laughter and letters. Let's just become real strangers and turn heads the other way when we see each other, ok?

For from now on, the only moment I want to hear of you again is that when I'm told of your funeral.

Goodbye, "friend", let's do well in staying the strangers we've become, 

Yours sincerely,

The owner of your tiny box.

P.S. Witchcraft.

It's you

But you got to know this: my taciturn self is only screaming in psychotic struggles to escape you and your eyes. Yes, this is my confession of madness, my admission into a personal Hell I will never escape from... because you're there, always there, always there, presence of spirit and flesh, my utmost thirst, my lone crave for dangerous, maniac like company. It's you, you, you and you only. It's you and...

Your moves are fluid and your fingers seem to be chains of flying butterflies, keeping me trapped in this insanity, the forever darkness of my own mind.

Your scent is like an eternal flame burning the floor when I just want to lie down and shut down all these machines inside of me forever. Forever... but your flame keeps me moving, keeps me dancing, dangling my chains after me.

Your eyes looking away from me are more than any punishment Heaven could have bestowed on me for being born in this skin, trapped in this meat case. If there's no you, there can't be any other, so I'll struggle with all these bones and rip them to pieces if I have to... just don't look away.

And then your lips - a sweet smelling rose in full bloom is a decaying corpse. Full and with the corners always twirled in one or another form of mocking smile is carnage, silent torment for the weaklings like me that cannot touch you, cannot approach you, that can only dream of your darkness scattered in the wind. And sweet and poisonous and filled with thorns are they. But that can't keep me away from deliriously wishing to sink my teeth in your bottom lip and suck its death into me. Release me from my chains...

Your touch - whips and scratches against my bruised skin. And yet I let you continue your way down my hand, 'cause I know the pain can be erased only with pain and that there's no such thing as mercy in our little dark corner where only the devil can creep in without feeling insulted by the profanity of our blind Oblivion. 

You make no sense with your sweet lies and we both know your time is limited. So lay me down on sheets of solitude, strip me of all inhibition and look at me and only at me, see the soul screaming in me, see the claws scratching my throat in front of your every day betrayal, confide into my reverse flowing tears and trust they would never tell on you. And we'd finally be together.

Silence is overflowing from your shyness and I can only sharpen my claws on the smile in your eyes. Black blood flows through our veins and yet you do not see it - you'll never see it. The more you approach me, the more my chains of butterflies strangle me, cover me in soft and silky dust - you're the demon of my own insanity and you've come to take me, now I know.

But before we go anywhere, let me have that soft kiss, 'cause there ain't nobody in this maze to love you like I do.

Part II: He

He -  dried milk on his whiskers and white eyes staring into darkness.

He - the misspelled spell that turned into curse for other hearts.

He - broken bones, yellow skin, dark circles surrounding the eyes and a smile that can barely be noticed on his mean lips; he used to be young.

He - the saviour of Juliette and the one butcher that sliced Romeo's throat on his way to Verona.

He - a secret well kept from all Gods of the Old World, an elixir of a lost nation, hidden under the roots of a wild willow.

He - the carpenter with magic hands, carving and carving into wooden hearts, putting magic into music boxes; he used to live in a whale.

He - a mocking fire burning brighter as years went by him.

He - a traveller.

He - the kid that hugs a kitten to death, crying for the moon and asking for forgiveness when the numb body hangs expressionless and soulless, bending ungainly over his skinny arm; he used to have a soul.

He - it's all broken now: time, memory, smiles and tears, they're all holy spirits, ghosts in old castles made of broken dream.

He - the lost ability of one to put down on paper the moon and sun, bring all together in a circle of immortality.

He - the dance of butterflies, the winter touching the spring; he used to be lost.

He - a still green leaf during mid-autumn.

He - a child with blue eyes and curly hair, darkness and just one light illuminating the whole world; he used to be shallow.

He - "Where do I go?"

He - Christmas all passed and carols can still be heard during midsummer inside his chest, echoing in his rib cage.

He said he was fine. And he lived happily-ever-after, two heartbeats echoing inside of him forever and always...

Part I: She

She - a pair of hands lost in too deep pockets, soaked in fragments of icy shards.

She - two eyes, always looking around with fear, always looking down before anyone could read her clouded mind.

She - a flowery dress worn-out, holes showing bruised skin and blue veins pierced here and there.

She - a pool of teddy bears and balls, a world of wonders where you could get yourself lost if you'd have the courage to stay around long enough for her to let you in.

She - the magic brought from the North, the lights, the cold, the warmth and the soft breeze of a still ocean that hides deep waters under its tranquility.

She - so much warmth that it feels like the center of the Earth moved inside of her rib cage; and nobody would receive it from her.

She - a smile bitten down to blood, hidden behind silenced words.

She - the book that never got to be read because the title wasn't that interesting.

She - an old soul that got lost on its way and remained still for a second to rest, then forgetting the feeling of moving around for eons.

She - centuries of romance written in her eyes and on the hems of her skirts.

She - never remembered, never quite forgotten, always misplaced, never fully understood.

She - the one woman that owned the Heaven and Earth together, the one woman that set them apart.

She - bruises and tears, all fragments of the past brought together in one single, trembling heart; and she's supposed to be fine.

She - a lullaby she'd sing only after midnight, when all demons are out and watching from the corners of her uneven broken heart.

She - a collection of troubles and smiles thrown away.

She - a heart full of desire and dreams.

She had only one and one heart only and even that she gave it away as a present on one snowy day...

Abyss

My words scramble down the paper, they flow restlessly and form lines - lines of pain, lines of black blood trickling down the white sheet of paper, soaking it with dark circles. They do not tell a story and they do not tell the truth. My words are but my reflected image put down, not in a drawing, but in a sketch of lines and countless question marks.

My words are the obnoxious part of me, the one that is trapped somewhere deep inside the abyss of my soul. For that who does not recognize darkness inside is but a mere fool. Darkness is there: in you, oh yes, in you too. It's like a seed planted way before time, a seed fallen from the maggoty forbidden fruit Eve has picked out as the most delicious apple there was in Eden's Garden. And it's growing... day by day, minute by minute, it spreads its roots and it cages your heart into an iron-like fist. It torments your soul, it makes you scream from the inside. That is not you. That is not the real you! That is not who they're supposed to see, to judge. But there you are, trapped, a porcelain doll among so many others.

And there's nothing that could deliver your soul from evil.

But these are my words, my magical power, my way of defeating the dragon at the end of the story. For I got the power to say when it's done and the power to write 'Fin' at the end of this book. It's mine - the power belongs to me.

So come meet me, dear reflected image. Come meet me, to settle this once and for all! For I see the way you try to stretch out of your glassy mirror, your eyes rummaging around for a hand to hold on. I recognize that look in your eyes - after all, your face mirrors my own feelings... And I do not want to end up trapped behind glossy glass!

So come meet me, dear reflected image. These are my words, my world, my salvation. I will give him up to you, 'cause he's turned blind and cannot see the bloody tears rolling down my cheeks. He never really did anyway...

Darkness.

These are my words.

Reflected.

I'm part of you just as much as you grow inside of me - the symptoms of a new disease.

Can Somebody Save Me Now?

I'm foolishly wear this rag of smile every day. 
Each day.
Even if I'm mad, it's easy to change my mood and pretend I'm happy if I put it up. It's like an old t-shirt that has holes in the fabric, revealing bits of the skin that finds underneath it. But even if it's old, it's comfortable enough for you to prefer it to the fancy lace and silk gown that lies still new in your closet. It's like an old bike that you keep using, despite the tire being flat. You prefer pumping some air in than go buy a new one.
I'm stupid enough to wear it every day, in front of everyone. I don't frown if there's someone around. You might catch me frowning at a book I'm reading and even that is pretty rarely coming from me. I don't cry in front of people. I just... put on a smile and swallow my tears for later, for a bathroom or a dark room with drawn curtains and music filling the stiff air.
I wear a smile every day ever since someone said my sad face is depressing to see every single day. I guess a smiling one is easier to stand and have around, right?
But if my sadness used to once be on my lips, I'm afraid it has gone to my eyes. It wasn't there before. My eyes were normal, plain brown eyes, sparkling or dry, always looking straight in the eyes of the person in front. But now they're dull, soulless eyes staring at the shoes. Always at the shoes. Because if I raise them and look someone in the eyes, I'm afraid I might scare them away. 
For who would love a girl with sad eyes?
So I wear this rag of a smile every single day, holding tight on it and hoping that it will last till the night sets over my bed and I close my eyes, that it won't break down and reveal my true self in front of the whole world.
For who would love a girl with sad lips?
This smile is everything I have, the only thing I held dear for seven years now. And even when my dears one passed away, even when I was hurt, when I was in pain, when I was unable to speak or move, when I cried because of a sad, tragic movie, when I suffered for a poor being being abused, that smile was still there, in the corners of my lips, invisible to the others like Harry Potter's invisible cloak. Only I knew about it and it protected me from the outside world.
For who would love a sad girl?
But I feel the smile fading away, slowly coming off my face like a muddy mask in contact with water or like show under the bright sun. What would I do without it to protect me? What will I be without it around to keep me safe? What would I look like without it?
My smile, the only friend that knew my secret, the only one that read my heart like an open book, this smile is fading away.
Can't you save me?

"It's a cold, cold world out there

Sometimes I feel like nobody cares

I'm down, down, down

Can somebody save me?"

Black (Heavy Sleep)

You turn off the light and close your eyes, preparing to drift to sleep. But the silence around you does not show mercy for your ears and so you hear the world spinning: a branch touches the closed window lightly, a night bird spreads her wings not that far away, the rustling of your feet under the covers, the nails scratching the skin of the left hand, the heart beating steadily inside the chest.

You hear everything.

And everything hears you.

So you open your eyes and darkness welcomes you with open arms. It's so dark, that you can't even see the stretched arms in front of you. You struggle to catch the glimpse of the illuminated window, but apparently an even darker hole opens in the place of the well known glass. And that darkness has black eyes that follow your every move.

You can't breathe as the darkness tightens its grip around your body. You feel your skull throbbing in a futile attempt of the brain to shake you awake or to dismiss the thought of blindness, the eyes moving from right to left, trying so hard to catch at least a sparkle of white in all that suffocating black.

And the suffocating feeling that you're shrinking in your own bed, the world you knew becoming thrice its size around you. You can't see - that's a fact. So you get up from your bed and you know that what you touch with your soles it's just the red carpet, but it's just a habit of what your eyes used to see every morning and evening. Then, on the right, your fingers hit something hard - the small desk where the phone lies. The gadget does not respond to the command and the screen does not show its light when pressed.

You're running blind...

In the darkness that follows, your fingers leave a invisible trail on the wall of the long and narrow corridor. You know where the switchers are, but you can't see their flickering leds, burning red in the darkness.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

You hear the switcher, you can definitely feel the bulb's light falling on your cheek, but you can't see it. The darkness is just like a Black Hole, sucking you in more and more, till there's nothing left of your soul, till the warm body of yours remains just a shallow shell of warm flesh and red fluids.

Darkness - unimaginably solid and warm.

You can hear everything.

And everything can hear you.

You nails scratch the skin around the temple, the fingertips run on the skin under the eyes, pressing it towards the inside until you feel it giving in to the pressure. Your nails slip inside the small openings and curve upwards, pushing the eyeballs out of the orbits.

Yes, it hurts to feel the flesh severing the muscles, to feel the fibers of your body protesting against the stupidity of your act.

Yes, it hurts to feel the blood gushing out of the holes that remain behind, to feel the wind howling inside them as you hold on the two wet and sticky balls that used to grant you vision way back before.

Yes, it hurts - the darkness, the holes on your face, everything hurts!

But it hurts less to know that the permanent darkness is brought by permanent damages than being the same phobia haunting you over and over again...

Her Personal Demon

She's not crazy. She swears she's not. Neither does she suffer from a mental disease, one of those that are undetectable.

And yet, once the sun sets and the North Star appears on the sky, she feels these cold chills going down her spine. And suddenly, her walk through the park transforms into a race against time, with invisible hands stretching towards her, ready to grab her and pull her into the pits of Hell. 

Eyes - sparkling, dark coloured eyes that keep watching her.

She always thought of her house as some sort of sanctuary that could keep the bad outside, scratching at her door, howling at her blocked windows. But not tonight. The real Darkness somehow managed to slip inside with her, making it impossible for the light to actual illuminate the way up the stairs.

And once again she finds herself hurting like never before. Squatted next to the armchair, she feel the pain creeping closer and closer to her flesh, sneaking inside her, grabbing her heart with venomous claws that seem to tear through the walls of her heart.

The pain of remembering that He had left her, that He had sought for a way out from the very beginning. A way out of the darkness, out of her house, out of her life.

The pain. Like she feared, it became bittersweet, comforting to a certain extend. And there He was, dressed in light, smiling at her like only he knew how. It was mocking her confused heart, really now. It was mocking her beliefs, her futile attempts to stay normal when her whole world was out of balance.

And hands - stretched arms, palms almost facing each other, calling for her, asking for her warmth as a tribute to the Darkness that had defiled her house and body. Mute arms, body-less arms, colourless arms. Ghostly.

Just like her pain.

"Come, come with me where there is no darkness following in your footsteps."

It seemed only normal for her to grab the opportunity of peace and quiet. And it wasn't the shadows that were biting, digging holes at the back of her mind, but the idea that there were actually two ways in the promise, two meanings.

For only the eternal sleep could put away the fear that had nested inside of her. She knew that. And so did the beautiful illusion in front of her, her personal demon.

"Come with me."

Her palms weren't sweaty when she placed it in his stretched hand. And fear was nowhere in her eyes as he finally looked Him in the eyes. There was a cocktail of craziness and defiance, heroism and stupidity bouncing in her twirled lips.

"Let's drown the fear of falling and darkness will die away as well."

Wasn't that nice of him? Salvation through water.

"But I can't drown my demons," she whispered, right hand buried deeply in her pocket while the other still captive in His hand. " 'Cause my demons know how to swim," her voice seemed different. It stated actually the obvious: she was finally free. "But I can burn them."

It took a single sparkles from the lighter for fire to be born and show his already grown teeth while munching on the wooden floors of her house. And she was there, in the middle of it, holding her illusion closer than ever, embracing her fear with a smile.

Burn, baby, burn...

2am

Middle of the night and I think the clock is stuck. 2am. For more than two hours it has showed the same swan like figure... Has the time stopped for me? Has it finally came to an end? This time I ended up cursing at, begging for a second to stay still and allow me to... what?

Run away.

2am - shadows and darkness, grayness and a hurricane of thoughts that just can't be stopped. Lies, it's all lies. Liars, we are all liars! 'Cause even when there's nothing more to say, we still say 'Hey, it's ok.', 'cause even when we have to deal with the end, we still say 'I'll always be here.'.

Liars. We are all liars.

Blood and bruises and a forgotten cup of coffee on the edge of the bathtub. No one understands that the coldness has crept into my body, that now is that time when I'm the most lucid being on this stupid planet. No one understands that I have eyes that do not have to see, ear that do not have to hear, hands that do not have to touch - 'cause there is fear. Fear and a thousand of bad reasons why the words have sank into the flesh, why there's a hole on the inside - a hole that shows me the universe.

2am - I'm leaving.

Today is the day when I'm moving away from this place.

I'm running away without a thing in my bag, without a jacket on my shoulders. I'm running away without looking back, 'cause I know you're still there, scowling at me with your Jake by your side. I'm running away because there's nothing else to say...

A mirror shows the fog inside the bathroom, but it shows a totally different world through the yellow stains on its glass. A world that had died, a lost paradise, a broken jar full of teeth for the Tooth Fairy. A world that was more like a lie than reality for us all.

Middle of the night and coldness has been blown inside here for quite a while now. I can see the hole I wear getting larger and larger, a whole black hole getting born into this mess of world I live in. Would someone care? Would someone wonder what happened to the sky? To the yellow sun the kids used to draw? To the birds singing high up in the sky? To me?

No. Because we've let go of the last thing that made us human - humanity. We've forgot to look up from the pavement, we've forgot that a word can build a world or crumble it down, the the eyes are the mirror of a heart, that we hold hands not because it's all about sex but because we need warmth and closeness of another of our kind. We've forgot the the sky if blue and the grass is green, that we like to play hide-and-seek, that we all wanted to be superheros at a certain point.

We... forgot all about being ourselves and lost in a mass of humanoids that just think.

But I won't stay. So, I'm running away, I'm leaving this place.

And further than you can find me, I'm leaving, I'm leaving today. I will never let you find me, so stay guard to the past I won't look back at.

So try, try to understand me, understand what I'm saying when I say I won't let you step on me. So don't give me your reasons, I don't want to hear your lies, you begging me to stay.

I'm leaving 'cause today time has finally stopped in place for me.

And it's cold.

My Universe, can you see my Universe?

My mirror, my crossed lines, my broken rules.

My story to tell, my life to give away...