biodanza grenade-05.09.17


*artwork- via


biodanza melted everything

into my inability to be while with others

there, (un)disturbed and loud, it exploded

grenade of piercing realizing: 

i am so scared to not be able to love

to ever be able to care for someone

more than i care for myself

i’m terrified, that i’ll have to give up so much

for an uncertain promise to obtain.



rabbit burglar beast- 19.07.17

*artwork- by Silvia Pelissero (a.k.a Agnes-Cecile) via


Anxiety is swift

Is a rabbit hiding in a high grass

Jumping on the path in front of you

Shuffling your thoughts in a second

Is a skillful burglar

That bursts into your walls

Robs you of the ever thinning peace and


Is a ghostly beast, it smiles in your face

While watching you fail.

After being tamed for too long

It wants its freedom

Back and big.

So I have no choice

But to submit and surrender.

I’m letting it feed on plentiful of my fears

Primarily on the one that flickers in my head

In  massive neon-red letters:

“Am I able to bring and sustain life?”

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- by jiwoon pak via



my being is ridiculous country.
it’s easy: i merely want to be needed, important and
so that they won’t have a new girl, again.but, in the meantime, i am bored.
and everything around me seems
and pointless.
people used to be.
and i once was
someone that i am not, anymore.
yet, i hold on to. clinging to something
that is not even memory.
primeval fright.
ever present anxiety.
so, i wait. i’m alert.
always ready for being turned away.
returned to
the manufacturer.

in a
 common cardboard box,
straight to unlovingness.


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.



*artwork- “confusion” by roswita szyszka via

while  married to roads,
of microscopic (barely) homeland,
i’ve been around and across.
same scenery all over.
relentless skies.
brown growth.
sea is on my left. hopelessness- on right.
forever with my eyes closed
i am to hear someone else’s music,
and feel a stranger’s elbow
and smell a piercing sweat.

and now, again i’m lost?
these ways are alien.
i am at the crossroads,
same ruthless sky and rusty growth.
still. location is unclear.

you drive. your hand rests on my knee
together. we are so lost together
these roads divide and split,
so threatening, and we
we are bemused again.
you don’t know what to say

and my words die inside so i keep silent.


third eye-29.07.10

*artwork-“blurry cityscape” by ashly barid via


no guarantees. no eternal promises.
a stable place, is what i crave.

(mirage of) safety
obscures my sight.

right eye is open
left eye is closed
the third one is indigo not yet.
i am sad.


jerusalem for fool-25.06.10

*artwork-by gary kaleda


pure fantasy.
sunny winter days. my favorite.
ha!door opens and he brings the air in
for me to breath.
every time, virgin-like thrill
lusty love, lovely lust.
senses wide shut,
carefully covered
with precise amount of artificial sweetener.
yeah..well, the real is here ( or is he?)
morning coffee with silence OST
families, groceries. sink full of junk.

pretenders? or is it all that it takes?

i am unjust. the goodness is all over.
it’s only that… so difficult to let go
of imaginary passion,
for cosy warmth and promise(?)
of obscure togetherness.