exercising unboxing

every human’s a box

each also lives in one

and they call it a home.

but some have cracks

not where the locked door is,

nor under the window

through which

curious eyes sometimes

peep searching for

that crazy woman’s screech.

they are inside

and they happen when that glass of

wine is




somewhere else on

the floor

you can find the shards of

your box.

buy a new home

and a bottle of wine:

open the latter,

lock the first.


no escape

Ever wondered why the arsonist too goes to the shore?

He pulls out his ribs to design a boat,

Knitting them with every plucked string of his heart

But as soon as he leaves the land

They all start to crumble and crumble;

The water is glaucous blue and salty

And it comes from his eyes which burn.

While plunging into it and getting his last straw

He dies and his house tumbles down, burnt.

Hours later-

They find his memories on the floor

Smelling like regrets and cigars.



end after end in an endless chain

suddenly struck by this thorny thought

untimely swirling into chaos

which I did not apprehend.

cause me pain, I thought

quite masochistically

but I didn’t expect that you’d end

what really felt like a start.

the door opens, I’m still shocked

as one already closed, too fast

and feeling stabbed by million shards

I smile and overtly gaze there, having no aim

like saying: yeah, come in.

then the question that I fear arises:

-Do I bother you?

-Of course not, please just vanish

while I still feel flustered

with wobbly knees and refrained

shivery thoughts.

-Why aren’t you staying straight?

But how could I

when the only remanent thing which keeps my head up

shoulders straight

is the fucking orthosis

bracing myself





she came and seemed so happy;

she said: -hey!

and you replied: -Hey! I’m Happiness.

then the other day, another one came

he said: hey…

in 4 shades of sad

and then again you replied:

-Hey! I’m Sadness.

after that, out of nowhere,

a new one appeared

she was so funny

and her laughter

overwhelmingly contagious-

so you smiled and told her a joke:

-Hey, I can be so me with you!

and you’re alone:

finally, the latter one showed up

he unsaid the joke

tendentiously veiled in irony.

he became clear black

and said: hey, I’m Grief!

then sluggishly asked me:

-Who are you?

thus bewildered I said:

-Hey! 19075340_1364550350300551_349589800_n

cum se uita

ochii-ti ies din orbite vio/lent
si-o amintire-ti impregneaza o imagine-n minte-
neclar, neclar, neclar
imprumuta Ochiul lui Horus si-nteapa-l
cu varful unghiei abia scos din carnea-
palmei mai acum ceva timp inclestata-n pumn
sa prinda, sa nu dea drumul
jongleaza cu el- inducere-n eroare
deformeaza imaginea, cuprinde-l in maini
pune-i degetul, sa taca, pe retina.
el clipeste in semn de revolta, te musca de deget disperat
genele-ti rapun tesutul;
injecteaza-o lacrima sa te-amorteasca
neclar, neclar, neclar-
acum e momentul,
definitiveaza actul profanator:
strapunge-l si lasa-l orb
indurerat de amintirea amintirii.

wake up

you woke up,

you barely woke up;

you sighed and thought

“5 more minutes that I need, please”

so you begged yourself to feel

a bit longer dead:

sleep.                                                                  images

you woke up

then again you peevishly asked for some minutes

to feel how it feels not to feel at all

conscious, or aware of our mawkish reality

“so life”- you begged, “let me die a bit”-

don’t sleep.

stand up and aimlessly move your legs

go there- but where?

brush your teeth, look into the mirror

see not yourself, but just a weary face-

not yours, another’s.

feel empty for the rest of the day,

drown in drowse and act dim,

the disappearance of the insides

so dull

and grey

lacking the You in Self and the Self in You,

yourself is divided:

Self craves for some minutes of death

and after a day of living

You get home-


4 p.m.

4 p.m.340870704_o

He walked the chalky alley

As he usually does:

Lumbering, with his eyes

Not reaching the horizon.

But for the nonce

He feels the wind

Sluggishly touching his

Peachy freckled-cheeks;

And dazzled he observes

The iridescence of a

Floating feather in

The sun’s glow-

Its blatant colours:

Black fading in metallic blue

And metallic blue fading in

The kid’s green-like eyes.

Such a piece of art

Tremulous in the air

As the boy’s heart when

His mom died.


4 p.m.-  on some other street

You can hear a screech

From insides of a dead bird.

Blatant colours:

Black fading in metallic blue,

Metallic blue fading in

fading in

fading in