king of my thoughts

.walking into the night with the same voice. 

... don't let me know, we're invisible.

about the wind

 ... in the dusty hallways of my own wistfulness I run barefoot and leave traces bigger than me... by a single sound I recognize a song I knew and I tremble... becalm for a moment... the walls filled with sounds and mirrors start to melt...and I open my chest so widely, it echoes. "Why are all my walls made of candles?..."- I wonder when I feel the dawn on my fingertips... "and why... at the perfect moment, when the light changes, I sense the presence of Death?"... 

as if she's always there...

With walls melting, all the bird songs in my chest are unprotected, transparent, exposed... they toss and turn with no rest and leave me scratched from the inside. I sing in whisper, trying to ease them... remembering all the songs my mother taught me, but they don't give comfort any more. I cut the ropes and ribbons that connect me to her world with no regret and sometimes so easily, it makes me think about how similar, yet different we are, were or could be... I held to her memory so tightly, I could not see myself in the mirror... and yet I stand in the middle of a field.. no walls any more, no corners for shadows..., with silenced uneasy bird songs in my chest... and there is nothing but the wind. 

It touches my breath, dances with it for a while, then let's it go... and I can hear it. 

I can hear my own breath and I start to wake up, the whole me... 

there's no scratching inside my chest, no songs reminded, no ribbons, no ropes, no answers... no stars upon me, no walls surrounding me... only the sound of my breathing. I dive into it and my hole body is filled with water... there are no other feelings- only longing

... how sweet it can be. 

12 brothers~

... first visions about the 12 brothers turned into crows...

breath of life

... as I was recollecting the pieces of my self, going through a dream of a thousand touches, when right in front of me... stood a woman, with blackness braided in her hair... she screamed- the rocks shattered, she trembled her eyelashes- the armies fell... and yet she felt nothing, but sorrow. 

... her dresses soaked in raven's eyes, kept it hidden... until she undressed. Lakes of salty water in her eyes, milk and blood on her finger tips... always on this verge of breaking down and taking everything with her... 

As I embrace her in my thoughts and make peace with all her ravens, I'm back in a dream again... 

I braid my hair, whisper my wishes, say hello to sorrow, as we pass by each other... touch my fingers, look into the eyes, sink into the night skies and breathe. 

With truths untold stuck in my throat and no dresses, soaked in raven's eyes, protecting me, I take a chance of a painfully satisfying version of me, who doesn't cry over fallen kingdoms... 

I stand straight in front of my mirror and am not afraid of anything he might show. 

"Come what may" whispers my heart and lips tremble. 

He looks me deep in the eyes. 

I take a slow breath and he shows me that woman I can be. 

With blackness braided in her hair, in a straight stance she appears before me and whispers softly: "Mirror, mirror..."