I survey myself from all angles, from every wound. I seek the vice, I dig for the fail. I wish I could wash my every gap, my every remnant, still messing with my soul. I wish I could fill my every flaw, my every breach, still hosting my tears.
I wish I could flee from my every thought, from my every nightmare, still leaking my mess. … More Ephemeris
See where it leads. To write randomly. With no purpose. No time. No subject. Spontaneous writing.
See where it leads to write effortless. After reading poems.
See what comes from emptiness. … More Daydreaming
Alone on the bridge
Alone in the city
In between
In the dance
Life goes through
People’sound
World’s smell
Petrol’s taste
Air’s contact
Street’s show … More Still dancer
March carries a different kind of movement. Not rushing. Not forcing. Just the quiet sense that something inside you is ready to move. Yet. You stay still. It is not an explosion. It is not even a flood. … More The quiet rush
Today, I “had to” write.
I was tempted to keep going on my enamoured and broken heart. But I was uninspired and on the edge of getting bored.
Then, for lack of love, I tried to write the war. To change it into poetry to share my helplessness. But my words lacked power and were not worthy of the haunted horror. … More Supermarket car park
I just read new theories about love. About departing and returning loves. Some I like more than others. But that is not the point. Or a bit. Since one of them I really liked. The Kintsugi Heart concept… … More My Kintsugi Heart
Fleeting Wor(l)ds 