Ох, душа поэта, та что готова дарить тебе цветы

Лишь чтоб напомнить, и светом в миг заполнить две звезды -

Твои глаза на небосклоне, как в нутре они по чувствам ждут.

Ох, душа поэта... напоминающая чистую реку

Где незабудки синие так искренне цветут...

Throw the dice.

I hate to be wrong, I hate to lose,

Life pours me lies, I pour some booze.

I wait and wait, I hate that feel, like

You're there, alive, but nothing's real.

You say I'll heal, when I am down,

I cut myself with my own crown,

I waited for the doom to pass,

And years ago I had more class.

Restrained myself, I put in chains,

With fire flowing through my veins,

It boils, it hurts and I blow up,

Each evening, there is nothing there for me to stop.

I look at the stars and I ask why,

And maybe, when there's time to fly,

It answers nothing, silent, closed,

Same feel, same old shit with people who ghost.

I strive to be me, then I strive to be nice,

A board game of masks

And I lost my dice.

.

I want to scream, I want to scream, I can't comprehend this,

I cannot stand this right now.

All these feelings piled up and fear,

I fear and nobody understands, the only ones that act up

Are dry walled and speak like know-how.

I cannot handle this right now,

I cannot handle this, I can't.

Like an empty shadow road,

This all seems too thick, painful and broad

And you - shut up.

Won't say a word, will ye

I want you to shut it, and doors to be shut,

Thousands of lusts have died all for once

In my gut.

Leave, I am done.

All the tears are so pathetic. I bite my lip

I endure to not show any of you

I feel so deeply, I fear and I love too

And whatever's left, will be claimed by me,

Not you. In-between us a wide, dark sea

I fucked all the rules. I got myself free.

Time's not my death - 

I feel so much. But I'll battle, till hell, I fucking will

And through depths cut with swords I will flee.

Submerge

Feels like my wilderness has been killed somewhere,

Like everything is passing by,

My life, I'm catching nothing anymore,

Something in the distance burns, but it seems so small like firefly.

I imagine running barefoot through the woods,

I imagine listening to the drum of the oak,

Let my pain and waiting out, under the roots to soak

It's all just within my head and nothing happens. 

I waited, but nothing spoke. Is spirit dead,

My fear of death, just like a smoke, in the woods that wildfire swallows,

Under the pressure of blood dripping down my arms

Into branches as hallows,

Bow and turn, bow, head thrown back and slowly getting into feeling,

Magic under the omen, cast by the rot and the healing -

Death of the moss. The branch you cut and toss.

Blood drips down your arms and mine -

This is the song. That's our thunder named shrine.

Rejoice and dive into depth. Of the deepest fear, the dark, the screams.

The divine.

Летящая жизнь.

I'll call that a day.

Am I coping,

Quite a question and I sit,

Wanna scream and cry, I knit.

What are feelings - wanna fuck you up,

Grab by hair, push to the wall,

You play, I'm not the doll. Shit, fuck...

How many times does this have to continue to end,

How many messages to the universe do I send - 

Where does the fire end,

Where do I, where do I stand.

Scream in your ears, how many times do I have to cope with others' fears -

I stand alone and rain is falling on my eyes

You feed me with the silence, I feed myself with lies -

And all this greater passion - is full of broken ties.

Fuck you piece of shit. I lit a cigarette.

Eat my crap disguise.

Where I pretend I'm angry. Pretend that I'm okay.

Beneath that - don't trust humans, but I had a heart.

And I'll call that a day.

.

Dysfunctional. And I open and close.

Stars align and I don't know those.

Pain. I crusaded for you. 

And for what? Is that strength about nothing,

Into an abyss of lost love.

Everything's a mess and I am above.

But it keeps dragging down,

I walk around town, I see flowers, people smiling and sun.

But what to do when in thoughts all I want to do is to pull out a gun.

Instead of my embraces, they go nowhere.

I go see places and think of you.

Obsessive. Disgusted of self. I'm on that same shit. On that same shelf.

Body aches, I'm gone. The fuck have I done?

In my thoughts I cut words, cut people off.

I can't stand the blur that I have with relations,

Can't stand fuckin nothing, time tickin, friends together stickin.

And I'm here. Where the fuck do I go?

Useless power plays I show,

And as much as I'd like to stay - 

My head's playing Requiem, I'm on my way...

On the sofa I lay and I cry.

Maybe the thoughts of life&death, maybe I thrive.

But what's with that, heck at least I'm alive.

Man... such a storm in myself, it's two fourty five.

And I'm out to breathe, but I want to beat, hell...

If only soft arms could hold me, but - oh no, I dwell.

And I cannot help but to enter this nocturnal cell.

Masks.

I hope you take it off,

In morning dust, in sunset red,

Before you leave and go to bed,

I hope you take it off and look

With every word out of that book -

And scratch out that thread, that page, dissection,

Do I suffer to blind affection...

We all take them off and look in the mirror to see

That there's something incredibly monstrous to be.

The masks of perfection.

I stomp the appeal and cut the correction.

In beautiful masks lies our ugliest infection.

You know, it hurts

Fuck you, with words

The fuck are you doing

Putting words in my mouth

If you wanted me to be away -

Then should have said so,

Not wasting my day

And my heart

Decay.

Tunnel.

 I walk out

And it pulls me back.

I walk out

And it pulls me back.

The pain within comes out

Like black fluid fills my veins

Confusing feelings, destroying gains.

Thoughts go back to negatives.

I fear what ifs, everything is like a wall,

Huge border around me, suffocating crowds in mall.

I'm on my knees and I can't breathe.

And you won't help me, nothing will.

I'm ruled and I'll be killed -

By my own thought. I'm still -

Like waters in the sea -

Deep down the black depths feed on me

Of my own sharks. Relational ptsd.

I want to paint my room fucking red.

I hate everything that does with feelings,

I hate everything that makes me cry.

I hate everything that gives me hope and reason,

And everything that makes me wanna die.

I hate all these things I'm feeling - 

And those that I don't understand.

For when I was stupidly thinking,

About clueless fucking you,

Instead of going to bed.

I want to paint my room fucking red.

To X

There is no hope,

There is no light.

Turn your back

And fucking fight.

Apathy.

The clock ticks and I sit in the room,

I await no emotion, there's nothing but loneliness - a doom.

The candle crackles and I read no signs.

Only me and the floor. The apathy.

Our framework aligns.

And intertype makes me sick,

And clock just keeps his "tick, tick, tick".

There's nothing in the world that could cure this hole.

I'm fucking empty. And I am whole.

Become as gods.

Become as gods,

As Artemis and Apollo,

I run through the moonlight and spare my hunt,

I take my price, for what's true I'm blunt.

And with flowers gathered, I shoot from my bow,

I know your heart that I'll throw in the snow,

Because I'm avoidant of your godly light,

My moonlight shines for me enough bright.

Individualist - am, but the care in my heart,

Will tear me and you, Apollo - apart.

My twin, I can't lie - I hate the way you made my love die,

But for what it takes, I continue to bind my tie

To run through the woods like a wildfire,

Like the Moon to your Sun, I burn and I cry,

In embraces you take me and spare me my faith,

While you used my trust arrow like a low bait.

And sometimes, Apollo - I sit and I cry,

But only within I can shed my tears. 

On the picture, like fury of storm - I will fly.

The thunder won't touch me.

Because we both know -

Only your godly Sun can make me die.

Self-love and hedonism.

In these tougher times, let's talk about mindfulness a bit and self-physicality and spirituality.

This time, about a more so taboo topic.

Masturbation is a taboo topic, while it shouldn't be, especially during such times we live in right now. Let's talk about its aspects connected to spiritual being.

It can help as an act of self-acceptance, acceptance of your own body through self-love, becoming more aware and grounded. The lower part is our Root chakra, so it can be a process of release of negativity, of negative emotions and feeling of tightness. When we touch ourselves, we become aware of our physical body and we can use it in a tantric way of self-love and acceptance. It is a mindful process of a release of tension.

The other aspect why it is good is because it is sex, but not with someone else - with yourself. Often it is difficult to connect with other being on an emotional level and chaotic sex which is cultivated in our social world brings us more either visible or hidden traumatic experiences - that leaves a shade on our deeper being, on our subconscious level of spiritual growth and cleanliness of our aura. By chaotic sex we don't only affect each other by treating one another as pieces of meat, we also affect the non-visible - the metaphysical being of self - that is our inner shape, the non-visible connection to this world. If there is no emotional connection to another being, that leads to an experience that leaves a void in oneself, that grows bigger in time with how many of acts we have performed this way.

Self-love, however does not harm the other being by making chaotic choices. Human can be an impulsive being, but we have to concentrate on the aspect of social growth and how one can affect another like dominoes and leave the negative veil of aura with the others.

Self-love is also an act of emotional hygiene, which is incredibly important - to recognize not only one's aspect of desire and physical pleasure, but as already mentioned - emotional release and acknowledgement of oneself as a human being connected to biological processes and natural wishes. It's an acknowledgment of sexuality and releasing this side aka balancing it with keeping it non-volatile.

This aspect is important in giving oneself the warmth, receiving the touch - we receive it either from someone else or oneself. It also brings heat to the heart chakra and clears our minds through releasing toxins in our brain - that connects to Crown chakra and a bit to Third eye chakra.

It's an act of self-care both to your body and your mind.

The Grove.

The birds, the runes, the wind, the tunes,

I touch the water, feel the sand in the dunes.

Out of breath I tune in, to feel the air,

I disconnect into the one, outside my lair.

Breath gives me sparkle. It grows the branches.

Sparkle becomes the fire. Ignites the touches.

I grow as a tree, a being, omnipresent.

Of knowledge, I tune out. 

My leaves are my fruit. A Sage. I share my clout.

Time.

Sometimes I just want the time to stop,

Somewhere where it was happy and everything was okay.

I'm sentimental. And I wish we never died in that golden light

I wish the good would forever stay.

I cry. And to empty skies I pray...

That today wouldn't be the lasting day.

The forest red.

 Am I too intense for you?

Too fierce, too much,

Throw of an axe, not a warm touch,

Full blown like a flame, not that of a match,

Am not quiet candle that crackles crisp,

I rather stay silent, but I am a whisp.

Do I break these thoughts that you have?

Of woman who painted is -

Of softness and friendly charm,

And my teeth - they only bring harm,

While foxes run through the woods,

Not appreciated of city's goods.

And I tackle these thoughts in a spin,

Who am I to get up and win.

I lost to all of these rules - you're all set,

Because in the end, I, the forest red,

Am commonly known as only a threat.

Mirror.

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

What's the promise - you might fall.

Broken glass, broken dreams,

Take a thread, bend the seams.

Frightened I doubt I will go with the line,

Certain I thought it will tighten my spine.

Closed off I meant I will open a path,

Let the world break, I'll just do my math.

Out of the breath, I run closer to wall,

Mirror, what's promise? Say, you will fall,

Closed into puzzle, and scatter my parts

Oh, mirror, mirror. A Queen of Hearts.

Bend the dreams. In silence, I throw my darts.

What is freedom?

Walking at the beach, we see the seagulls flying and we think - freedom. With the fresh, slightly salted sea air, we capture that sound as something freeing. Why is that it associates with freedom? Maybe it is about the flapping wings in the air and how they circle in movements that looks so free to us, because it's the plasticity of movements in the air and going to the right side and to the left side in the wind. And then you think - I'd like to be that seagull. But if you were a seagull, you would just rely on your instincts. You'd catch the fish, try not to get killed by other birds, people or humans and basically just rely on your survival instincts. Because you wouldn't be capable to see these things as a seagull that you see while you are human, your brain wouldn't be capable to see the aesthetic aspect of it - the complex beauty and give it that sensational association. For a seagull it's simple.

We, as humans, also can walk in circles on the Earth and go back and forth. So why is it the air that is "freeing"? We also have to survive, but our brains are more complex than that of seagulls, we can get killed, injured any day. There are constant power dynamics. So how is that a freedom?

Even pets - we own them on a leash. They get fed, walked, pet, basically taken care of basic needs, while they are not free - it is like a good cell. With food and care. That is not freedom.

So what is freedom that you mention, when we all rely on basic life mechanisms that affect our bodies which is time and force. Is it just a beautiful sentiment? Because nobody is free. The world is a power structure nobody alive can escape. It is biological, intellectual and spiritual.

And so we watch these birds fly again, flapping their wings, breathing in the fresh, salty air into our lungs, breathing in that sensation of association of a beautiful, fake sentiment - freedom.

We as humans, create these beautiful sentiments that give us a feeling, a fresh breath of life to illustrate, to give it a meaning, even if it is, in reality, non-existant.

You fucking whore.

In this little world of yours,

Mind being fucked, you beg outdoors,

The clear wide space and sweet impression

Of latent whores. Repression.

As you flutter like a butterfly,

Somewhere low, somewhere high -

Throw the bullets in the sky, bitch,

Kiss me hard. I'll bite.

Your words make mind to cum,

Soul wants to fucking die.