I organized a match on your body
it was a color match rainbow, a sword made out of words and a silence fist
my hands runned over the rainbow
my nails scratched its surface and it felt like clowds, jelly and wine.
the fight will take a long time.
in the end
there is only experience
to live or not.
on your chest i will always draw a door
near that door a moon shaped window
near that window a small heart
am o pana
e pana lui Vlad cel ce tinea Tara Romaneasca
in tepe si in lupte
e pana ce a lasat in urma testamente
in unele seri o inmoi in trecatoare
sentimente
in unele seri in prosseco si in stari nemuritoare
am o pana pe care as plimba-o pe umerii tai
cu care as scrie istorie de ieri
am o pana pe care o misc greu
se misca o data cu sufletul tau.
Le-am incercat pe ambele.
ne scris
ne gandit
Ma golesc.
Nu inteleg cum si de ce.
Nu inteleg cum de nu simt furie.
As vrea sa am o furie in buzunar, pe care sa o scot si pe care sa mi-o impun.
Si totusi eu simt cu totul altceva.
Opus furiei.
my body smells of jasmin
in the afternoon rain
the layers of my soul
have no smell
only texture
hard like my arms
and soft like my tummy
the layers of my soul are infinite
each layer with its own power and virtue
and lack of it
and each layer is longing for
a specific soul with other infinite layers that have no smell, only texture.
the rational arguments
the lack of reaction
the empty space
all points out to a fictional connection
can not miss something that was not there
on the contrary.
(if) my imagination
it did damage much more than it was ever allowed.
it took something from me.
