Handmade Wonderland

I don t want to know...my soul will break and shatter into tiny bits of unfulfilled dreams. If I were to know...if I were to live like that i would most certainly become full emptiness. So I decided to remain oblivious to the truth and continue to live unbound by the ties of knowledge. I'm starting to feel an expansion in my chest. My soul is bursting white clouds in the hights of the deepest seas, searching for a way out. I'll spread my wings and discover my own world, my own truth, my own altered way of thinking and make my own mistakes. I want to be my own explorer. I want to keep secrets from the world itself. I want to be unique in a matter of binding, to be the only one that's dislocated from all; to be able to connect and reach, to soar and to swim throughout the history of the Univers. I want to be you, but also be nobody; to be lost inside my dreams but also dream about being lost; to find and to be found; to create and recreate myself as a being made of clay,but also be able to destroy my disbeliefs in the same way. I need to be caged in loving freedom and grow to surpass the movin obstacles that arise in the way of my development. I will let go and live in my own created wonderland. K.

What do you call love?

What do you call that feeling you get when all you think about is him? When evertything fades and your mind wonders in strange places you never knew existed...when,while closing your eyes your last thought flies back to that last hug, hoping to bring it back. When your heart races compeating with distance and time that hold you apart...until you see him again.
What do you call that moment of fear before telling him "forever"? That strong sensation that you're falling from a mountain top ready to hit the ground. That moment you hold your breath and close your eyes...and pray that you won't die.
What do you call the sudden rush of blood that floods your cheeks the first time he looks into your eyes? The warmth of his hands you don't want to let go of. The moment he opens up and lets you touch his heart.
What do you call it when you're smiling like an idiot, but you don't care anymore because he is there with you? When you try to keep quiet but you are screaming on the inside. When you want the whole world to know about your happiness, but at the same time you're too scared to share it with anyone.
What do you call it when your mind looks like this, searching for the perfect words to say?
What do you call love?

K.

Bun venit.

Probabil ca nu o sa stii niciodata cand ti.ai atins cu adevarat limitele?
Te credeai puternic, dar ai renunat la multe din principiile tale pentru a obtine fericirea mult dorita.
Pacat ca te.ai pierdut intr.o spirala a autoiluzionarii ...
Pacat ca, desi ai simtit gustul hiperbolizant al ambroziei pe buze, era doar o iluzie...
O iluzie care provoca o stare atat de idilica, incat nu ai putut renunta...
Nu ai vrut sa dai drumul unui vis...
Dar traiai intr-unul...
Erai numai tu care vedeai lumea asta...
Atat de departata, dar atat de aproape de toata implinirea dorintelor tale...
Si te.ai lovit de dusul rece al realitatii.

Bun venit.

A.

Promisiuni

Stau intinsa in pat si ma rostogolesc in valuri de amintiri. Afara e vreme frumoasa, poate-i putin cam cald, dar ce sa-i faci, e vara. Vântul răcoros freamăta suspine printre frunzele copacilor, îndemnand la o ieseala in aer liber. Ma incordez si incerc sa ma ridic, dar cad neputincioasă la loc, de fiecare data. In cele din urmă renunţ si ma las purtată de vise dureroase ce ma suflă ca pe o pana între doua lumi. Vad frânturi de imagini, miros de parfum si imi amintesc de promisiunea pe care mi-ai facut-o. Spuneai ca odata cu vara vei veni si tu, un vis trecător, hot de iubire. Spuneai ca trebuie doar sa-ti rostesc numele si vei fi acolo, dar atunci de ce l-ai anulat? Spuneai ca o sa ma sprijini prin viata plina lacrimi amare si dispreţ, dar acum m-ai abandonat singura într-o casa pustie. Mi-ai promis refugiu si împlinire, dar in schimb imi oferi lipsuri mai mari decat la început. Ai dispărut ca ceaţa iar pe mine m-ai lăsat pe pământ. Mi-am promis un lucru in ziua aceea: voi uita de visele cu tine si voi paşi singura in eternitate. K.

Mister cu ochi albastri

        Chiar si acum cand închid ochii ii pot vedea chipul. In special ochii. Oceane adânci si albastre care m-au privit in treacăt de atâtea ori, si probabil nici nu s-au fixat asupra mea in totalitate. Se spune ca ochii sunt oglinda sufletului, iar eu vad in el o profunzime rara, umbrită de reflexul societăţii moderne. Un dor nestins de afecţiune, ce ma mistuie, si face sa ma simt mai apropiată de el.
 Câteodată, am impresia ca minţile noastre se reunesc si împărtăşesc aceleaşi gânduri. Deşi, este probabil doar imaginaţia mea. As vrea sa il pot observa îndeaproape. Are ceva anume care ma atrage, ma fascinează. Poate avem aceeaşi atracţie spre afecţiune, dorinţa de a iubi si de a fi iubit necondiţionat, de a atinge absolutul.
     
Eu nu stiu ce e iubirea, nu am avut niciodată pe cineva drag, asa ca nu stiu cum ar trebui sa o simt. Ce anume poti numi iubire? Cand poti fi sigur ca iubeşti? Mi-aşi dori sa stiu. In afara de cele câteva sperieturi pe care le-am simtit la întâlnirea cu el, nu stiu nimic. Si, deşi mi-as dori aprig sa il iubesc asa, cred ca această atracţie este doar o curiozitate. Un mister cu ochi albaştri.

 K.

The story of a stranger.

Once upon a time, in a cold morning, someone was walking on the street. A stranger. Myself.
I was looking at the ground, blinded by my own closed mind, stucked upon my own thoughts, my questionable feeligs and doubted concerns. Lost inside this foggy madness, I happenned to notice a pair of feet, not too far from where I stood.
      I raised my head. My neck was hurting, dragged by the weight of my worldly problems. But I didn't care at that time. Because when I saw him I forgot anything about myself for a couple of seconds.
A young boy. A teenager, just like me. He did not realise I was looking and I was thankful for that. Yet, I continued to bserve him quietly. He was somehow different from the rest. The way his feet were carefuly touching the ground, like he was frightened not to hurt it. The way his slender body was curling up in the air, creating a harmonious sculpture. The way his two bare hands were meeting the cold outside and greeting silently. His fingers, strong yet sensitive - hurt by a strong hit, meaning something was upseting him.
But he looked calm, loving.
He turned his head and our eyes met for the first time. Blue eyes. Deep as an ocean, and still, cold as ice. I saw sadness, despite his gentle smile when he saw me.
I bet he thought I was weird and scary. Examing him and trembling with curiosity about this stranger.
He fascinated me. I wish I could touch his hand, greet him with warmth to make sure he's real. I wish I could freeze that moment in time and stare into his unshared soul. I wanted to heal him through myself, if he was willing to accept me. To share an eternity getting to know him, the one that no one else knows, untained by words of reckless humans. Discover his depth and drown into the misteries of this stranger's oasis.
Not knowing his name, nor the sound of his voice, his native language or family. Just him. Bare spirit and beauty.
       It started snowing. Large, white flakes, melted by my breath, fell, turned into water.
I looked away. He seemed amused, not knowing my thoughts. Then, attracted by his obscure existence, I fixed my eyes into his; shy, but hungry for more.
       The ice melted, my scars opened to be bleeding wounds and he noticed. My pain. My mortal enemy and precious friend.
He made a step toward me. It was so unnatural for me to see him move. Then, he grabbed my hand; I still don't know why.

I opened my eyes. The hostital rom seemed too bright. It was late March. I took a deep breath and saw him fade away. Next to me, an old man turned his head and smiled. "Thank you", he said. He then grabbed my arm, carefuly, with a grace I knew I saw before.
"It is because I wanted to heal you too."

K.

Povesti

Urme in declin
Si umbre pe pereti
Nunta ce vine
E moartea din povesti



N.

Doar ploaia

Mă trezesc în întuneric

şi parca în visare uit.

Totu-i împietrit,

nici măcar ceasul nu mai merge,

nici cât s-arate-o oră proastă

nici cât să umple-un gol din aer.

Şi visul iar apare,

e scris cu umbre pe pereţi,

şi în liniştea ce doare

s-aude picurând în zare,

doar ploaia

N.

Otrava rosie

Aerul e fin, aerul e rar,

În camera mea moartă

Un zgomot surd s-aude:

E otrava ce-a căzut

Pe covorul roşu.

Nimic nu se aude

Şi aerul e greu.

Stau în pat, în umbră,

Otrava-i tot pe jos

Pe un covor roş.

Şi totul este roşu

Şi aer nu mai e,

Otrava-i tot pe jos

Pe covorul cel roş.

N.

The demon behind

   

I wish I could go
I wish I could stay
But I can not remember
My name.

From the darkest hell
You came for me,
But I can not remember
A thing about me.

I feel betrayed
And I don't know why
A demon is following
Me from behind.

The hour is late,
But I know I have time;
Time to forgive
The demon behind.

I know that I shoudn't
But I go after him.
The demon awaits
And I remember me.

I fell and he cought me,
I tryed to fight, but I couldn't,
The love that I have
Is nothing but hate,
That consummes me.

What is to know
When you know nothing?
What is to know
When you feel betryed?
What is to know
When your love is hate?