Little mooncalves crawl on the cold, cracked ground. They try to avoid what comes after death.
The rain melts, becomes one with the puddles.
It’s here. It’s right here. The chaos.
We’re howling for light, for salvation. How insane!
We lock ourselves in a dark room. We throw the key through the window and condemn ourselves to eternal waiting. We’re waiting for someone to find that key, to come and save us. And the truth is – no one is bound to do it. There’s no ‘must’ in all this. They’ll just walk, and walk, and walk, and never stop. You’ll start screaming. And no one will hear. Because the window in your room is closed. Why the hell did you lock yourself there?! But when you start smothering in your own air, you’ll open it. And you’ll pray and pray for somebody, anybody to hear the last of you…the very last of your mind…of your sanity.
It’s in human nature, I guess. The need of light, the need to hope. Imagination is everything – creates all that the soul craves for…just because it doesn’t exist…just because it can’t be achieved.


You are either with me forever, or not with me at all.
Today we have twitters and instagrams to follow, instead of our ideas and thoughts.
What someone ‘posted’ seems to matter more than what somebody said.
It is a fake world we live in.
Made of wireless relationships and computer-through feelings.
Your friends and lovers should not live only in the monitor.
There are people around you.
We ‘share’ pictures, but we don’t know
what it is to share time with somebody
We ‘follow’ blogs,
But we fail in following our hearts.
It should not work this way.
Everything is made too insignificant.

November 2013



My eyes are blurred, but for sure: there isn’t anyone

Though: the silence never comes, help me overcome!

But no: you just talk to the candles that blur and burn my face

One day I’ll blow them out, oh, that endless chase…

In dusk I am covered now, as my blood flows

My blood that you drained and you drank it, it’s true

You built your new life, you’re passing through

the river, the forest, the garden, the sea

 I just wanted to make it through one more life

Oh, but deeply I am falling, not sober

Idle and aging, I am far away from the horizon

Idle and buried, I am just the picture on the wall in your asylum

February 2013

photo source: facebook (Art & Painting)
by Andrew Ferez

De anima

What’s been happening in your head,

do you get the feeling that you left too early, darling?

Or you just gave up your trying,

I’m the same as you, but inside you’re crying.

I’m wearing my leather jacket in cage of your mind.

You see me as the pupil of life,

but you are the one who doesn’t know what it is to be loved –

that’s why you give people only one shot.

I’ll never have anything when I love you.

For this I’m sure as you are cold.

You are just wasting my breath.

For this I know, you are just a wreck.

A water that shares so many seas.

Cruelly, Love.


November 2013


De anima – on the soul

At the time

I want to wander and find my freedom again. Feel my freedom. I always had it and now when something is taking it away from me I feel trapped.

‘There’s nothing worse than an uninspired artist,’ he told me once. Live off. Live by. Live through.

‘You are over so many things,’ he declared.

‘I don’t know what am I over and who is lying under me, but this has nothing to do with pride,’ I responded. He laughed because he knew were the same.


November  2013