the trial-19.06.17

*artwork- via

יער מפחיד


Tiny seed of longing

Was planted in me when I was two.

I’ve never been asked for a permission

But nevertheless

I’ve taken care of it relentlessly

Fostering it into monstrosity

Letting it

Weave its branches into every supple cell of mine

To keep me buried under

An unrestrainable jungle of thoughts

To sentence me to an infinite



the shadow of nicole and marrast-04.02.11

*artwork-  “impostor” by leslie ann o’dell via


being displeased
tiny bug bites within
feeds on disappointment
eats frozen invoiced words
wormish sleeky tales
of illusions that won’t ever bring light
unfriendly friends
sly enemies
hello, i say
when they come so close
that i can touch with my bare hands
feel through steely hearts
look into their eyes
inhale their lies
this stream of  hollow promises
destined to die quietly
but my stomach
holds hope, in the farthest rooms
of the reddish matter
that’s called intestines
i like to show it off
and to pretend
being the fair one.

who are you?-5.12.10

*artwork-“empathy”  by John Edward Marin via



who are you people?
countless names on countless pages.
is it all about comfort?
and why destroy freshly built basics?

he who likes Kurt Vonnegut and Milorad Pavic,
damn geniuses, i adorebeing adored
being the smart one
playing with
enchanting music attached to words that have no meaning
to me
and books
little book worm, devouring pages
under the blanket
that’s what i was
and now words are pale.

i want to be understood,
and, maybe, forgiven.


till he wants to tell me his story-13.11.10

*artwork-“angels in waiting” by libby mills via



together-less togetherness
it’s me, waiting on him
till he wants to tell me his story

this building is shivering
and can be broken down
with one simple word
whispered inside out
whispered because it needs to be shouted
and blind eyes will become green
and deaf ears will heed
and mute mouth will break silence




*artwork-“smoke” by brigitte werner via


for more than two hundred and seventy days
i pushed away, it was not easy.
funny it feels, the tips of stiff fingers tremble
and heart pounds so fast.
this face in front of me. still precious? or is it?
just impatience,
covered with thin layer of curiosity
covered with thick layer of urge to destroy.
everything’s so familiar
these feminine hands,
hiding behind ever present cigarette
and convenient smoke.
hello, roman.
i just wanted to say good-bye.

fairy-tale for a grown up-24.09.10

*artwork-“waiting for the sun” by cameron gray via



“pattern”, it is called.
her little personal drama.
all of a sudden – a whirlpool,
echoing voice of sticky old trauma.”don’t wait for me yet”
he asks.
well, it’s too late,
the mechanism’s on
her heart sings that
moth-eaten song.