House of Cards

Waking up in the morning

Sweet scent of the rising sun

Kisses you on your cheek

Tells you that you’re fine

Nightdress flowing down your body

Skin pushing lightly

With a great care

Not showing your weaknesses

But skirting is cutting on the edge

You’re losing something

But no, not yet

It’s a time to come, it may not come…

It is a sweet denial

It is your last remorse

Because you loved

Because you had trust

Earth is shaking

Knocking you off your feet

Your ground faded

All there is

Void

Abyss

Nothingness

You were left in your mourning

On a cloudy Sunday morning

Wiped out

Wiped down

With your torn nightdress

Pale naked splits

Holes the size of your fists

So bare

So defenseless

Dark edges of your cuts

Buried down

Under the cards

Of your little house of cards

A Late Arrival

She stood there, counting the minutes. She'd already been standing there for 43 minutes, 11 seconds, 12, 13, 14... She wasn't irritated. She wasn't trying to make the train come by the will of her mind... which was most probably the case of the slander man in his forties standing just a few steps from her.

She observed him just for a while - nervous jerks of his head, shaky fingers, red face, clapping foot. But no, he wasn't interesting aspect of her - oh so important time.

You must understand she'd given up on waiting after the first 10 minutes, when the 50 minutes long delay was announced. But actually, she did mind. Oh she did very much. She was about to meet her sister who just came home from Scotland for a day.  One bloody miserable day. And it was already 17.03, almost the end of the day really.

But she wasn't thinking about it anymore. Once she caught a glimpse of that gentleman... no, not that one with the red face to the left... the one to the right. That was the right one.

He was slender alright, his hair was pure silver and his face wrinkled. And yet, if you looked closer, you would see a man of his... rather thirties.

Why was it so, that this man with so many indicators of an age of fifty and above looked so young?

Then she looked again. She stopped seeing just the separate parts of him, he was suddenly whole. He was a man, a complete man. You could not put that into a question.

He was so different, though. He was so calm. everything about him had the air of calmness. Not like ignorant to what was going on, just calm, content.

If she hadn't been thinking about it too much, she would've said he was actually smiling, but it was only his face that was smiling, not his lips.

During this long time of waiting, she longed for her courage to come to her. She wanted to talk to him. Why, she did not know. She just very much wanted to...

Suddenly the train arrival was announced. Her thoughts were no longer whole. She lost it. All of it.  

EPI-FOR-YOU

What a day

it's a day

lovely day

rainy day

gloomy day

every day.

Red is the New Black

To cross the line
You need to hide
To make your world
You have to swerve

For living life
He had to die
With scarlet claws
She brought him down

In frame of red
His dreams faded
Believe he's dead
Because he loved

Now always sees
The black deep sea
In crimson light
For every day

And sometimes for the night

Inside

It was that kind of a day that leaves to distraught. All that was there was a quiet, pounding heart. And of course the fire. The fire was nice, pleasant. But it didn’t change anything about that day.

Her mind on the other hand, was just SO loud! It would shout and poke and whistle and cry and kick. So persistent it was!

She’d developed a strong distain towards her mind by then. Quite a logical thing to do if you ask me… Such a blizzard in there… No wonder she’s despise it.

She took hold of her head, gently, firmly, painfully. Nothing else could it ask for. It was the culprit. There was no way of negotianing. 

Helpless soul

Soul is hanging on a string
Lifeless, hopeless, beaten to death.
No one to trust, everyone is gone.
Silent piano is the only true thing.

Ghost of life sitting at the bar,
Swallowing bitter spirits,
For its spirit was stolen,
Taken for a path to 'very far'.

The only thing left is an endless abyss.
Only a languid echo.
Life left in a dubious battle
Which may never end... at ease.

Pain has been augmented.
Havoc has taken over.
How long will this resentment last?
Wake me up when it's safe to breathe.

Why I love Autumn

There has been time in my life when I loved Summer. Of course, kids love Summer don't they? So warm and sweet. No school, lots of free time, holidays, friends and fun fun fun.
Then, there is the Winter. Beautiful snow, white and sparkly; good building material as well. And oh, what kid wouldn't love Christmas, right?
Wait, you're telling me I forgot about the Spring? Sorry.. never was much of a Spring lover. Everything is just kind of devastated after Winter, there is a lot of rain and then some freezing as well. How would That be likable?
But I'm here to talk about Autumn!
I thought of this the other day, when I was walking down one (not very particular) street in Žilina.  Gusts of wind were hitting me strong and cold, making me tighten my scarf around my neck and hold my coat closer to my body. At that moment, the few leaves already lying on the ground stirred a bit and sent the sweet smell of Autumn to my nostrils. That was the smell that always hits me. It is so pleasant and slightly peppery, and I can't push away the thought that this is indeed the smell of dying, decaying leaves that I'm enjoying. A slight smirk crossed my face. That was my mind sensing this familiar truth.
With an umbrella above my head I continued strolling towards my favourite café. Even the umbrella was delightful. Dotty and blue, just like I prefer all my things. Playful, yet not very distinct.
The muffled sounds of tiny raindrops hitting it sounded like a song. Somebody whispering a chaotic melody, I could hear a piano in my mind, pinning the tones down.
And then, there is the air. It is somehow fuller at this particular time of the year. It is as if the air itself was heavier, but pleasantly. It is fuller and it makes sense for it to fill up every nook and cranny. You just have to excuse if for messing up your hair, because it was made for it. It was born that way and it just wants to feel the intimacy of you. Of me... it is a kinky one, I admit, but would you blame him?
I continue on my journey. Few meters left, I'm avoiding puddles - don't get me wrong, I just don't wan to hurt them, of course... would you like being stepped on? Well whatever your answer is, I doubt you'd like that (and I'm not talking about the cute Asian girls giving you back massage).
And there I was, in the Café. Sipping my coffee, warming myself up, looking  at the people outside. They all look so natural in there. In Autumn, everything is meant to be, everything is meant to happen. It is that kind of the year...

Attention :D

New short-stories-ish and poems are already in the process of rewriting :D
Coming soon:
HELPLESS SOUL,
A LATE ARRIVAL,
INSIDE,
EPI-FOR-YOU,
RED IS THE NEW BLACK
;)

Phony

Words of sweet denials,
words of the sweetest lies.
So bitter they cut
So bitter you bleed.

The truth is true no more,
it's the world itself.
It's the lonely mountain,
because no one's there.

Once the syllables are out
driven by all mighty lust,
there's no way you can trust
even if the time has passed.

It is just the question.
It's the voice inside your head.
It came from the outside
and there's nowhere you can hide.

They come and go.... They come and go...

Thoughts of the past,

thoughts of life -

-here they come at last-

cutting like a knife.

Here they come and go,

then you're empty,

you let it flow.

Here they come and go.

Thoughts of bitter tastes,

of the hate and haste.

Haste to keep it moving,

but instead of loving,

You just let them go...

The fireplace

He was sitting in front of the fireplace, his old companion throughout all those long lonely evenings. It always gave him this feel that he was being tended for. The comfortable warm radiation licking his old woolen socks would always calm him to sleep, but not today. For today was special. It’d been long since it was snowing this much. Snowflakes of size of feathers were falling in a swirling gentle motion.

The last time the night was this white was… the night to remember. But that was a long time ago. Those times he could still recognize his sweet Anna, those times he would hold her hand and they would talk about little things. The fire in the fireplace would enclose both of them and they would lightly kiss goodnight.

And at that moment, after all those years he tilted his head and looked at the spare armchair. Soft and lovely just like in those times, but empty.

Smiling face, flowing locks of hair, dancing together with her body in the rhythms of the music coming from their freshly bought gramophone.

His heart pushed at the wall of his chest, taking the last thump for itself… and for her.