The ghost song

Your mind is silent
Way more than usual
Strange feeling of peace
Tastes like wine and smoke

You keep the slow beat
A foot on the coffee table
The day has been hard
Eyes heavy like lead

A bitter laughter
To some casual obscenity
Head resting back
On your right hand

It’s better like this
Rewind, repeat
It’s better like this
As if you could chose.

Insider threat

Millions of cells created and destroyed
In a constant cycle that defines our time

Electrical messages transmitting our will
Through miles of biological wiring

Complex matter synthesized to keep
The machine in working order

One abstract thought enough to change
This magic gift into a void existence.


Pills crushed on the ground
By inadvertent steps
I sit on the bathroom floor
Staring at the dusty remains

Should I stay evasive
Before my tired mind
Or look it in the eyes
And knock the scenery down

Just a mere coincidence
Or a real sign of fate
I need to take my time
I need to concentrate

Arms crossed on my chest
I look for a little warmth
Inhale, hold, exhale
These shivers have to stop.

Day Three

Going through the last day
Of my reckless quest
Exhausting last ditch
For my brain cells

Among the ashes
And the dirty debris
I really can’t find
One thing I should keep

Nothing is worth more
Than a distracted sight
Like pretentious creations
That are not worth a dime

This is Day Three
And I won’t allow anyone
Including myself
To tear my work down.

Day One

I close my eyes once more
“Empty your mind, concentrate…”
Cells run under pressure
Away from my heart, towards the surface

They impact my skin
Crawling towards the weakest spots
They aggregate and merge
Thickening my shell

This is Day One
Energy focused way ahead
To the challenge of catching my breath
And keeping the promise I made to myself.

Another fall

Lights start twirling
I am falling down
My hands an unlikely shield
Against the approaching ground

I open my eyes
To the incongruous tune
Of a drizzle of words
The radio’s still on

No memories at all
Just a violet bruise
Awakening the consciousness
Of the weak sheath I’m in

I need to lie here for a while
There’s no reason to whine
I will pick myself up, on my own
This burden is mine

I don’t expect you worrying
Or you looking me up
You can’t, fair enough
And I guess I’ll be fine.