fragments (sometimes)

sometimes the slow things
are just too fast to grasp.

sometimes the light so brilliant bright
that blinds the sight into the darkness.

reality sometimes is frozen into fixed dreams.
and vibrant dreams sometimes released into the life.

I know sometimes.
sometimes I don’t…

I have no fear! I can embrace the darkness.
the deeper darkness, than closer the sunrise.

letters (pain)

PAIN
drops of pain disappear
into bottomless depth of my heart,
echoing wet sound
into the hollow emptiness.
and like a snail
crawls along the slippery walls
in circles,
looking for escape
from the round closed chamber.

fragments (when we were kids)

WHEN WE WERE KIDS.
we were kids
when we tormented
our first grade teachers,
and made our mothers cry

we were kids
when we exercised cruelty
among each other.

we learned to betray
and get away with it..

we went to department stores
and perfected the art of stealing.
skills needed in a later life.

we were kids,
young and foolish.

we healed each other’s wounds
and tended for each other bruises.
we haven’t lost the compassion yet.
from our innocent hearts.

we picked homeless animals
that our parents
dumped on the street earlier.
and pleaded our mothers
to let us adopt those
unfortunate ones.
and we promised slyly,
painting tragedy over our faces,
and confessing all previous sins,
that we would be angels
in return for the favor.

we were lying!

we had to learn
the art of deception somehow.

we were young
and we molded ourselves
into adulthood.

letters (surrender)

SURRENDER
power that is lesser
surrenders into the greater one.
I say, you think, we mean.
the world is broken; it is in fragments.
order hopelessly dissolves into chaos.
the cloak of darkness
wraps around the light.
one belongs to one…
no senses beyond the boundaries…

letters (deception)

handful of words, limited to the number…
colorful pebbles vary in shapes and weight…
just so many could be juggled at ones…
mixing shadows from darkness and light,
keys to the world of deception, guides in the land of lies.
I let them sifts freely from my hands
like sand, like water, like wind….

If you meet me at my darkest,
the only one would remain,
lay flat on my palm,
colorless, weightless and attractive,
like void, like emptiness, like nothing…

fragments (nothing)

Today I write about nothing.
The blank page stares at me,
ready to embrace anything.
I draw a stick figure over
the bare body of the lifeless sheet.
it pretends to be me; I pretend to be it.
I spilled my wine... Purple landscape.
I drown in it. The phone rings...
“No one alive to answer!”
A crumbled ball... Trash can

letters (fortuneteller)

Fortuneteller
The Fool, the Sun and the Hanging Man
upside down, from the major arcane.
The Seven of Wands and the Ten of Fire,
from the minor one. The fortune teller
was a fake-blond, middle age, next door
women. She started her reading
from the Sun, I asked her why so.
She told me that it was her favorite card.
I told her that I was glad it wasn't the Fool.
She looked suspiciously in my direction,
and I guessed with certainty that in my case
should be the Fool. If I come to think
there was not much of a choice,
I couldn't pick the Hanging Man,
even in my darkest, especially
upside down. She told me, that
there is much light in my life,
without any visible source or reason,
along with betrayals, hardships and losses.
She was partially right. I did not tell her
that hell is a very bright place
from all the eternal flames.