A Desolate State

i have lost the inspiration…
… all what i have wanted to say
where is the one i knew before
was it because you were so close to death
was it because you were an outcast from family
was it because of the feelings of guilt
was it fear
was it your ex who treated you like shit for years

you were whole
you were the one who could take a grip of my soul with your mighty fingers

now i have noticed you are more into the here and the now
you are so attached to your family
you are so attached to what a career seems like to you
you are so attached to the bricks our subdued society has built

The only thing that i have considered dear and a reason to live for is a female soul i would crawl into

i am not interested or attached to what most of humans on this materialistic world cling to

most of people would want a career, getting richer, seeking attention from the social scene and by then they would control and manipulate others to get what they want

but what for,

i have enough of this, i don’t mind spending the rest of my life with you

i don’t mind having a small income

i don’t mind not being attached or dominated by family or any social group

i  don’t want you to meet guys and think highly of them

i don’t want you to think low of yourself

you are a queen into my eyes

lets just be together and wait for our death

lets just eat, drink and sleep till the lord take our soul
i have nothing against your aspirations nor you
i just miss the one i hugged once
i just miss the one i kissed once
i just miss the one i felt so close to once

i still remember how special holding your hands was
i still remember how tight were your grips

if only i was not
if only i was a ghost

i am getting away from the Lord each night
i am sure he is watching my steps out of his light
i am disgusted by my self
of what i have become

but still

i try from time to time to repent

i try from time to time to change the way i see things

but still

our planet is a lone one
the sky i see at night is so mysterious
the animals birds insects, plants and trees are all signs for something much greater than my ego

something divine
something i did not find my way towards yet

since i am but stuck within my delusions of romance

if only she held me tightly
if only i felt her hands pressuring my whole body

if only i was squeezed and owned by her

i would breath heavily and just descend

descend the steps downwards the kingdom of hell

the place i got a glimpse of once as a kid
the place where we ll soon reside

all of us, deluded sinners




A story of pity

I have found myself thinking a lot about a girl. I used to call her in the past she never answered. Or she would pick up the phone and tell me she ll call back but never did. I met her in December two years ago. Today i sent her many texts. I was afraid to call her cause whenever i did i would feel the phone app blocking me after only one beep. I just thought of never contacting her but then i have felt a primal fear of her being angry at me. I am stuck.

I tried to meet girls in between but they would only reject me or ignore me. I tried facebook i tried strangers outside or on train. I tried girls from places i went to regularly who shared the activities i was involved in but there was nothing in the outcome of such attempts.

Thus i am invisible.

Thus i am nothing.

I wished i have considered myself ugly because it would make it physical. It would be easier to bear. I still think of my self as an ugly young man but my pride or rather selfcenterdness or may be i am too selfish to succomb to such self statement. I still like to think very low of myself but it only serves the pleasing pain of self degradation. Since i am in love with my reflection on the mirror even if selves from my past would disagree.

I wished i had no money because it would make it easier to bear. I would think girls have the right to abstein from guys with no cent in their pocket. But thank God i have found a hole in society from which i feed.

Last time i met her was this first April. Lets call her M. When i met M last time i was so in awe. I loved everything about her from her voice to hair to eyes to eyebrows to her beautiful hands and waist and legs and thighs and and and … i was so enchanted and i do not know why.

I still wished today and in the days before if i had a chance to travel to Poland. Only to escape my loneliness. Only to prove to myself i am not a ghost. Only to stop the vicious cycle of pain or unrequited obsession. Wiktoria is in a relationship with her guy but still i longued for her. I wanted to see her and to talk to her. Since i never did. We only talked once through this human miracle called the Internet which made souls communicate occross a multitude of lands and seas. I do not think i can look into her eyes from fear to succomb to her charm. Then i felt afraid that the girl i am obsessed with would know my thoughts about Wiktoria and then be angry at me.

Still, i wanted to travel to Poland. Wiktoria is the girl who insipired me to write the northen tales. But she stopped talking to me. I understand her case cause she is with her guy.

But why M? the girl i am so infatuated with does not react to my messages nor reply to my calls. Why all she thinks about is her career and family.  Why she only reacts when i delete my facebook and gets so mad cause she thinks i blocked her. She has the right to live her own life as she wishes. But i have this fake belief in romance. That another soul should be our only reason to live till we meet the lord in heaven. Or never see his face thus reside suffering in Hell.

I am a selfish person.

I have many and very antisocial thoughts. Which i want to write about but i am afraid God will be angry at me. I am also afraid people would judge me.

I hate people preaching about happiness.

Sometimes i hate myself as well but it has been a long time i did not because of medication i guess.

I still believe in the delusions in romance.

One day i ll be able to create an imaginary lover and live with her till i die.

In the meanwhile i kiss my hands before i sleep and after i wake up cause i live alone and think all the time about M. I hope she would reply and tell me to never bother her again. If so i would keep on my escapades to the realm of unreality and meet the polish girl Wiktoria. She seems the only one who is kind enough to let me dream and kind enough to share with me her dark parallel existence.

Wiktoria i wish you a happy life. And M the girl from the suicidal chapters i wrote once about as well.

I love a couple of birds on a nest next to my window. Very charismatic parents and very cute lovely babies. They have three children. Still did not learn how to fly. I wonder if they ll make it one day. To fly.


Fallen Angels

In a deserted state of consciousness

Only the soil prevails
No hills no trees
This is where the horizon starts
And where it ends

The dwellings of the dead
The land of despair
No one ever believed that there might be a change
This region is haunted by anguish
This is one of the seven districts of Hell

Yet there has been a happening
The wind has awaken and spoke

I, may be, have been charmed
This is the same kind of magic
Weaker may be but sharing the same roots
The wind has lost his mind indeed

When the air lusts for strangers
It becomes wind
Nay, not strangers, but may be fallen angels


What if adoration is merely an obsession. Does the interaction with the object of adoration represent a threat to the perception of the latter ? An alteration or an alienation when it comes to the abrupt and unconscious comparison with the reality behind the object that is indeed a self sufficient subject. A lone and independent consciousness. It exists on its own and shines through so different mediums. Either way i find it hard for me to get over that kind of attraction. Sometimes i try to remind myself that this whole experience is only a matter of void. The void created by the lack of interest towards daily life pushes the mind to look for certain patterns and when not found creates or simulates an inner experience inspired by imagination that would fill that void. What if those vague patterns were somehow aligned with a rare combination in between the aesthetics of the carnal embodiment and the artistic outcome of the inner existence of another self? Therefore, i presume, the sum of those images ll become sadly enough the object of adoration. Trying to look through these questions i could not stop myself from wondering about how the destruction of the adored one would feel like. Unable to find a suitable answer i have found myself somehow certain that this kind of deviant urge ll come into life in a moment of frenzy. A frenzy triggered by insecurities and a total loss of self control.



Here she is, falling from the ceiling, falling from up above

With such intimacy and without the slightest hesitation, i have left them flow. Pure, naive, and kind were my words. Each word i have spelled made me closer to her. A moment of vulnerability that did not stop me from keeping the wound open. It has been so many decades, hundreds and hundreds, that i did not let myself flow uncensored. Since each day i have spent on this wrecked hole alone felt like a decade to me.

Her very long hair was falling on my shoulders. The softness i felt was fused with her enchanting sent. Her eyes suddenly started raining on me, very tearful red eyes. A thunder followed: A pouring of “I hate you” and “I want you to suffer”. She left herself being the victim of her own alienating impulses. A flood of anger and pain I thought. I am still lying on the ground while facing this unpredictable break down, a manifestation or rather an explosion of the frustration she was carrying. She had a great deal of hatred inside. She kept it inside whenever hands have stolen her purity. She kept it growing inside whenever her insecurities were a prey for mockery and arrogance. She kept it inside whenever her privacy was invaded… I have felt all that pain penetrating me. I gave it the permission to do so. I was bewitched i thought. Bewitched by love and care giving may be. I have welcomed her frenzy with an open heart. I was aware of my incapacity to keep sustaining a sane self. The collapse of my inner temple was a certitude because the entire setting of that experience was a vulnerable one.

The scenery kept changing; a very tiny space around her remained the same. After each transition she kept her firm hold on my corpse. I thought i was dying since we have traveled over all my past, all these images of my rotten life. Till this moment: I am now within the gazing of stars and the loud silence of the universe. Yes her screaming stopped, i hear nothing now. I guess every word she shouted was a curse. A spell that cut open my heart.

i knew in advance how much sensitive my unconscious was to negativity but still wanted to witness moments of my life unfold as i wanted to cleanse her from all that torment.

I have chosen a death that i wont regret. I wanted to disappear holding that memory. To die under her skinny shelter.