they say "follow your heart". oh, well, I am confused : what do you do when there is no heart left to follow?

cc

I am quite methodical in my madness. I do not beg any pardon for that.
I have been looking for myself. I found the world instead.
There is something within me that many call pride. I call it self-defence, self-awareness. Everyone follows their own folly. I follow mine.

It took me a while to feel warm again. There is a blessed chaos I had forgotten to give birth to.

reminescence

so too blunt to be even bleak,
so much of a shallow grasp of nothing
thrown into nowhere...
this is what you well enough succeded to be.

turn my filthy wreck of pain
into the shape of oblivion
'cause this heart grows fonder
of your useless presence in my thoughts!

I've never mastered a skill better
than I am managing to get rid off thrills,
be it the thrill  of my inner voice,
or the thrill of my soul shut down in yours.


thought life is a cartwheel,
a very nice-coloured one,
but I do not want my emotions
to  be drawn up in circles...
with so many things that look infinite,
I really know that everything is
only the blink of an eye.

Closing the past is only a matter of time.

mai e Ona, tot ea

nu i se mai spusese Onei de mult pe nume.
ea nu suferea mai putin ca un fulg de zăpadă
trimis să cadă primu-n păcat cu pământul,
doar că avea mereu un colț de zâmbet
după care se putea da pe nimic.

i se întâmplau fel și fel de lucruri,
dar ea nu și nu și nu.
se chema după ea intenționat cu glas scăzut
să nu care-cumva să se audă
și să-și răspundă.
ar fi însemnat să-și formuleze întrebările,
iar ei îi era teamă să se pună pe gânduri  ;
mai stătuse ea pe ele și nu ieșise nimic bun de acolo,
mai degrabă stătea pe acele frigului
și-și împletea dorurile după soba caldă,
pândind ușile timpului pierdut în scrum.

știa ea Ona bine că trebuie să rabde,
că drumul ăsta al neîntoarcerii trebuie dalat
cu fiecare celulă a corpului ce-o trăgea înapoi
și-apoi tasat cu indiferența celui care
cucerind odată imperii, nu se mai cutremură
când aruncă un cătun în flăcări, fie chiar și
vatra sufletului său săpat în stâncă.


și dacă nu ea, atunci cine ar fi putut mai bine
să taie rădăcinile din rădăcini până la sânge?
ea ei înseși n-o să-și treacă niciodată,
asta e partea cea mai greu de acceptat aici.
boala ce își este o mănâncă pân' la piele
și tot ce încearcă să intre pe sub această piele
se-mpărtășește cu veninul și se iartă de lume în venele ei,
or asta nu poate fi salvare, nici măcar alin,
nimic din afară nu o ajută decât să se-ngroape de vie
până la nemurire, până la capăt de fără sfârșit iubire.

shortshot

no remorse is being shown on the screen and strong walls are yet to fall until the strike is over. deliberately, these wan shadows of light are releasing the deepest traces of sorrow I've ever surrendered to follow.

it's not worth winning over someone else, other than you. it's not worth losing when fighting against someone who cannot be you. and those little pieces which unfold my memories are the scattered leaps of faith I had in my heart. I've let the only important battle to be the victory of my pride, not of my love and my choice moulded me into the shape I am now.

my silent wounds continue to turn asunder the state I'be been building out of my mind. My inner mutiny is unhealed and incessantly dismantling my certainties. Out of muteness, I've done nothing but a challenge of how well I can hide the pain , not a virtue of strength.

more comfortable to see myself enduring an absence linked with the sweet distaste of the errors I've made than having to deal with the ocurrance of faultlessness. I am the only one responsible for depriving myself of happiness and everything derived from it...

living in denial- this is my pursuit of nothingness.

hopefully not the last

I can't be anything less. Not anymore...

There are no limits between my myriad of alter egoes...just fine cuts to make them break strings easily...
nowbody's home, but someone's restless nights.

no mornings left to sleep beneath my soul . I used to like myself hanging by the thread of your thoughts, but now it's too late in Neverland to start looking for danger... I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.

blundering around in this reckless conviction of mine. there are no turns,no ups, no downs... first you slide, then you keep on doing the same. regrets? When something couldn't be lived, it was played... unfortunately, I played a lot even when I could have lived.

I blame myself for all the autumns I have gathered into my dark shadows of doubt.
There's no point in trying to remember how I was...I spend my time being who I've become.

it is all about making attempts... and notes to yourself. There is no one who is tracking your life more than you do, there is no one who runs faster after you than your inner self... you're no one's glory, you are your own pursuit of happiness...