You are walking in my steps, ahead of me every time.  Before my longing to be there is turning into reality, with all the anticipation and planning, the moment passes me, snatched away, reminding that I missed you one more time, chances flying around, melting in the air.
Parallel worlds exist. We have been walking the same city streets in various parts of the world, at times too close for a chance meeting, not knowing the meaning of it, if there was any. Almost but not happening, teasing and luring with what ifs.
You opened my eyes on things that'd remained illusive like yourself.  I'm wandering in my life and in my dreams.  World is just a TV screen and I'm willingly switching channels looking for you, in a hope that one day the timing will be perfect and I'll smile at nailing the chance to the ground, keeping this colorful butterfly in my hand to whatever end.

March / Waking up

Rain is descending in a slow motion, twisting and rescaling the time frame. 
Straight lines tilt and subside into the ground. 
Sky and earth connected with resizable water strings are playing whispering tune, distracted only by the murmuring tires of passing cars. 
Lights sliding from the slippery surface of the road disappear into the dark. 
Just a touch of spring, a whiff, raising waves within, waking up sleeping ghosts, rattling windows with gusts of moist wind, uncovering new hopes under the dead leaves of time.
Tired eyelids are trembling, still reactant to let the world in, shielded with torn dreams melting away layer after layer.


World is walking on the edge of an abyss, knowingly or not, sliding inch after inch, stumbling or dancing away attention glued to irrelevant, giant force consuming from within.
I still want to see what it used to be, before the distorted reality took over and mangled the past.
I wish I could bring back the best and discard the worst.
It's painful to watch people leave, sit at the back and wait for another incarnation to happen.
The world is more foreign every day, just a distant speck on a dark sky.
There's no home. Just a temporary shelter to catch breath in and keep going, until the road ends and carnivorous abyss eats the last in a hungry frenzy.
When blind lead the blind, the only beacon is your consciousness that won't let you dream in times of darkness, however colorfully dressed to disguise the hollow shell.


Taking an early morning or evening train may plunge you suddenly into another dimension. The world is too blurry for sleepy eyes and things are happening.   All the little stations that few trains ever stop at during the day and that seem to grow like mushrooms in early hours are piling up a long obstacle course on the way to your destination.  Rising and falling, they make this pitiful string of coaches arch and climb over with the fussiness and precision of a hungry caterpillar looking for the next dish. Treading very slowly, the train will rock you gently in your seat (rare luxury that you traded your precious time for), yawning at every stop, watching lazily with hidden envy passing expresses, while you are sitting back looking for another way to kill time that is in such desperate shortage but is nevertheless convertible into the relative space and quiet. 
Strange thoughts are hovering in the brain prompting immediate response in various forms. Music on the background gives the whole…


Giant Moon is glaring from the heavy skies, glamorous and intimidating, with the confidence of a bully toying with your consciousness, sharpening senses like school pencils, stirring dark waters deep down your most inner self in an attempt to dig up some unfortunate memories burred long ago, moving leaves, disturbing the soil, shedding light into a complete darkness.

Long shadows and forgotten ghosts come to life, zooming on places in the past with exceptional intensity and there's nowhere to run.
The stage is set, all lights are on you, while you're trying to summon all the strength and shreds of sanity to offset the avalanche of emotions pouring over your soaking self.

Trembling and alone, up against the whole universe, it's all you ever going to get in the end.

World in flames

The smell of fire is here
There's nowhere to hide
or pretend it doesn't exist
Dozens of flames are
dancing around the globe
Seemingly remote and lacking
immediate significance
to those at a distance

The ones in the middle
of the inferno
scream and fight,
crying out for help in despair
Faces pressed against
the glass of indifference
Eyes awash with pain of loss
Quivering lips
Clutching fingers

Words can be heard
If only we listened
weren't sickly used to
ignoring the screams,
muffle disturbing sound,
close eyes and minds
to nightmares
that came to stay
All in the insane hope
of avoiding similar fate

The ground shudders in pain
absorbing streaming
tears and blood
every day

Choking helplessness
prompts the thought:
Are we destined to the final realization:
'All hope abandon,
ye who enter here...'


When exquisite beauty enters your life it shatters everything around.  You find yourself in front of it mesmerized and lost. The world suddenly falls into shadows. Frozen in your footsteps you search for answers in the strange perfection that came to be from all the improbable lines merging. It only exists for a brief moment  but is branded on your memory long after it's gone. Deliciously bewitching, it clouds the reasoning and pushes aside seemingly irrelevant, taking all the space in your heart and soul.  You fall into a fantasy that feeds and eats at you, splashing fireworks and dragging through the strongest current of emotions you'll ever experience. With stars falling all around, your eyes are fixed on the sky even if you can't move anymore, or wish, or stay. The least of all you'd want to walk away. Beauty is a powerful addiction that follows you around reminding of itself in every stroke, sound or shadow. Nothing is ever going to be the same and not you.
The incurable lon…