I inhaled as hard as I could and I could feel my lungs expand to their maximum capacity, my rib cages jutting out and my entire body’s air pressure, pressured all on me. My chest holds the air for as long as it can, I want to expand and expand and become more. I want to be more expanding and to become noticeable. 



I craved for the entrance of a bright existence, its very presence shall fill me with purpose and propel me into the greatest heights. Shivering in cold sheets I wanted nothing more than to turn up the heat, hoping that I would go up and up. Swelling high hopes were making me suffocate, the ribs can no longer hold it in, the soft sigh of your skin and my silence. Folds unfold and staggering might creates such tension between me and this loneliness, slipping out of my own sad, cold body. 

Blurring reality

I’m starting to blur my realities and my dreams, it was either because my dreams were so real, or maybe just because my fears were very very real. I couldn’t help wonder for the entire morning whether my imaginings actually happened. Did he really say that– do that? Did I really say what I dared not to in real life? My heart trembles at the thought of it being real. 
I knew about it, I knew that he told me little lies to make me feel better, but they were lies. And in the dreams all these lies would unravel and I would see the truth, and it scared me: what did I see?
I saw demons and angels, wrapped in each others arms and burning each other with their destructive passion; I saw wolves chasing a deer, an innocent doe, into the dark woods and they all disappeared to never appear again. How is it that the hunter becomes the prey? How come the prayer leads the hunting and the preyed? I prayed, was preyed on and then I was swallowed whole by the darkness of the forest. 


My panting breath as I woke and opened my crusty eyes told me I was dreaming, and the nightmare was over. But how come I could still smell the fear in my own perspiration? I know it’s a dream. 

It is.

It must be. 

Dear diary

“Your lips are soft and I like to kiss them,” she whispered in his ear, toying with his lips with her cold finger tips. “I like how you lie to me with them and tell me how beautiful I am, and how we will be together for millenias to come.” Sighing, she lied down beside him. “Why do you love me?” she asked, slyly, almost as if her large brown eyes were daring him to say something she didn’t want to hear. 

What is the point really? In asking questions that you know the answer to because it is the only answer available. Afterall, other answers meant certain death. 

She watched as he swallowed nervously, wanting to make sure he said the right things. 

“Because… you make me happy, and you’re beautiful,” eyeing her carefully, he continued cautiously. “Your eyes, your hips, your lips… Not only your body but your mind, you make me love you with your wit, your humour and your love for me. ”

He probably decided to give away all cautious and to hell with all the nonsense he read online. 

“I love you because I do, I can’t explain it, it isn’t like the articles you see on Facebook. It’s not about the 7 chracteristics you have that make you the perfect girlfriend, honestly how hard is it to find a girl with all 7 traits? You don’t even have some, but fuck it, I want you and I love you, all the same. ” He paused, as if to let the words sink in. 

She sighed again, slipping her fingers between his. “You know exactly the right words to say, I love you too. ”

He held her closer and felt the nuzzle of his chin against her head, her locks of black hair carelessly flung across the pillows. 

“And I do too. “


There were no tears

bur crusts around my eyes

where tears would have rolled

down my cheek and onto

my pillow that is dry now.

I cannot stop longing

for what I thought would have

been the best feeling in

the whole wide world,

then i realised that I had

been too rough with my fingers

and I broke the crusts.



I stood still as the mirror showed my face,
awkward, crooked and different, but the same.
I squinted, moving closer just to see
the problems that are hiding just beneath.

My breath fogged up the glass and misted eyes
with rivers flowing slowly down the stream.
I saw the jagged pieces jutting out,
uneven crevices and damaged parts.

I counted all the cracks and scars that burned
my eyes as they moved up and down the slate.
A white porcelain marred by thick, black streaks,
beauty only half-way, and skin deep.