About Perfection in a Breath

About Perfection in a Breath

When you enter the palace,

I catch a breath of air and plunge into the deepest waters of the world’s singing sea.

I let my thoughts take a silent shape of me while I stare at your mouth and hands and skin,

Hearing the lost echoes of my once upon a time words.

Eyes drink your color, heart’s racing, and blood’s thickening

Still, there’s no breathing…

It is the teardrop of truth into reality, into me, when death seems but a song of continuity…

You are the fifth shortest season,

You are the timeless street walker bringing life to each tall forgotten corner of things.

You are the unfinished book of words that need safety to reach each other into a desperate completeness.

You are the ever distant painting into which I send my senses beyond those contours, looking for the perfect blend of light and darkness which gives a story to every window, every curtain, every lamp, if I had the words and knew when to put them in.

You are the essence of the stories that draw roads behind them and lure me in.

You are my dialogues in need for repetition which bring laughter in the essence of joy, like life.

You are the pages of the histories of the world when you kiss my hair from above, covering me at your chest.

You almost turn to leave and I feel the scream being born inside of me.

You linger on the tips of my fingers,

On every roof top, on every shade of every leaf,

In the back sound of every sound.

Still, the palace is  quiet like we have never touched.

All that is sacred comes on air and leaves in silence.



About Existence

About Existence


You were made at the intersection of Gold and Planets. Your spark was life before it had a heartbeat. You were the perfection gods’ minds can’t reach. You were the fully said words people not dare confess. You were the music that heaven hears in its dreams and leaves its memory painfully speechless. You were Lucifer who denied hell and burnt it into flowers.
You were not God and you were not Adam, you were their master! You created reality in a single touch, on Earth, not in an empty promise after death. You did not know death and death did not know you. You created truth before eternity because you knew that truth lasted longer than any eternity. You created the right and not the fare. You created life.
Day 1
When my naked feet touched the freshly born Nordic harbors, it sent a crystal shiver into my…

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About the Word of the Day

About the Word of the Day
The pillars were white and tall in the branches of the old trees.
We were breathing hot air, undressing the girl with the tight dress the color of wine,
And for a still second a splintered thought came to my mind
From days of heavy madness and death pain, cursing that path, I knew, in each of those seconds,
That this is what life was always meant to feel.
Pure joy, shaking with uncontrollable self-made reality
Naked, skin to skin, smoke floating in the hot Greek air of the balcony,
Watching over the market and people, with the metal end, cold, glued to my hot lips and spine,
An endless deja-vu of ancient joyful times in which people did not know misery, or lies, or norms.
We were breathing hot air while the sky turned orange above the rooftops,
The black cats were all asleep and, while you were watching them, I was watching you.
There was no second of mistake or doubt in your smile
As there were no common words said to just fill up our sheets.
Everything was meaningful.
We would whisper as to not disturb time, a breathless calm in our endless storm.
Everything was silence filling the spaces between us
There was nothing above our minds and everything we created,
Not even the gods.
You were growing younger as I was putting my red lipstick on, I walked away first because I did not want to watch you leave
I did not understand endings but life still couldn’t be anything else but the joy I demanded. And had.
My God did not need to promise me anything,
He would never forgive me not living all my truth.
It was lust.


About Charles

“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery–isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”

About the Nemean Lion

About the Nemean Lion

There’s us, talking about the beautiful undivided city of the Wall,

The sparkling old and new love of my life city. Just like you, Olivier.

We look at the calendar. We know nothing has changed, we’re only a bit older.

So we put our Bans on and we keep on walking in the new summer streets.

The lovers of the streets. Us.

A little hotel with curly pillars. We are better friends, we know how to make our kind of love.

We’re longing for planning, for books, for silence together, for late nights without the curtains on the windows. We make the time stop and in that instant we see the past and the future in the only thing that has ever mattered in the world, the moment.

The moment.

It’s the time that changes, the places and the memories since we have last remembered them, but not our skin and our touch, the feeling of my skin meeting your skin. The only truth is in perception, that second of being so aware of you. It is the longings of times, it is what my dreams are made of, taste and smell.

My nails are red. You say it looks sinful and we laugh. It is like that, full of sin and full of beauty. This is our Berlin laugh. Plain and beautiful as the Greek one, as the Mexican one…

This time I take you to my favorite streets, to mingle with the people of the worlds and have coffee.

We know it is not a dream but it always feels like that, flying and floating, the beauty of life and love is always in our hands, and we have the courage to live it,

Every August.




About some Seconds Before Sunrise

About some Seconds Before Sunrise
We were lying in the fresh wet grass.
Everything was yellow green and I could feel my skin sticking to your hands
It was you in my blood, in my veins, in my eyes wide open over the universe,
Your fingers lifting my mouth to your mouth
Your taste on my tongue,
So sweet, so soft, so calm… all that’s you in a breath
It was your heart beat that was chocking me in my dream
And I was grateful for being light and happy
A feeling, a thought, finally something…
I could reach to the sky and sink in it,
I wanted to breathe it but your taste was better
I wanted to choke and never wake up
You were Apollo in an endless dream
And I was the seconds of all the worshiping prayers.