Tuesday, 25 January 2022

I am enough

because I am what I want to be
not more, not beyond, not fast,
is enough
slow, here and now, is enough
not desiring to own
a house, a car, a person
without marriage, children, security
being stably unstable
is enough
a small room, small bed, a cupboard and a kitchen,
small dreams, small group of friends,
a small garden with tiny flowers to take care of,
should be enough.

a warm coffee, a cuddle and a walk on a winter evening
sleeping for long hours without worry,
enjoying few silent moments of happiness
just surviving, one day at a time,
to lead a simple slow life,

perhaps that is enough,
and all I ever want to be..

Saturday, 7 November 2020


 all the time there is, is mine

all the movements ever made

all the thoughts ever forgotten

all the light

all the wind, is mine

the sound heard unheard

the touch ever imagined

the silhouettes and shadows

the falls and slumber

every meaning ever meant

every word ever left unsaid

the silence is mine

of me who is a stranger

to myself

from myself

who is nothing

invisible and 

passing by...

Friday, 27 September 2019


there is a pleasure

into an abyss

so much that
no hand can reach
to pull you out

we all like visiting
that place
just to make sure
it exists
and we can return there
there's nowhere else to go

Monday, 10 June 2019


what is this guilt
this deep, strong
guilt of living, of life?
what is the word for it?

climbing the stairs and panting
sleeping safely in a room
occasionally waking up with a few mosquito bites
going to watch a movie
and feeling courageous of not conforming
eating, thrice a day, sometimes even more
and then exercising to lose it
the sheer possibility to waste,
tons and tons of waste
to be waited upon
getting paid at the end of the month
and paying, as well
having opinions and the liberty to voice them out
and accumulate likes on social media
missing home, family
writing poems

how is it possible to be guilty
and cherish the reason behind it,
at the same time?
to preserve it, the guilt, within,
to not let it out,
to cage it inside
and remain punished solely by oneself?

Tuesday, 11 December 2018

possess, not

there is this urge
a longing
to possess
whatever i see
i feel
to possess the horizon
the taste of crimson 
in the evening sky
and the monotony of the waves
crashing over the rocks
to possess them
the difference between
the shades of green 
on a tree
the lapse in the movements
of a bird in flight
and the sound of dry leaves
crushing beneath my feet
possess the crescent
slowly dissolving
into the darkness
and the silence
pushing me into sleep
possess the power
of being able to stare
into the warmth
of the setting sun
and watch it reduce to nothing
possess the experience
of time passing by
with the changing light
and that fraction of second
when the mind melts
into dreams
possess each word
and what becomes of it
as it rushes
onto the supple surface of paper
from the growing limbs
of my thoughts


i don't want to belong,
in that possession,
to anything
belong not
to my own thoughts
heaving my body down,
to the wind 
pulling my hair 
and trying to take me along
belong not 
to the fresh stain on my sleeve
or the man staring at me
with his comfortable piercing 

how is that possible

belong nowhere
and still possess it all?

Thursday, 1 February 2018


my hands are very cold
blue blood
and stays
at the tip of m
y fingers

it's been two hours
between your warm hands
but didn't you just come?

he says he has to leave
it's getting late

but you just came
I say

he rubs my hands
puts them in his pocket
and leaves

my hands are warm now
but I feel

Thursday, 21 December 2017


isn't it good sometimes
to be stuck in traffic
and stay
not reach
the destination

i have an orange
in my bag
it travels with me
to work
and back home
i always forget
to eat it
it stays
in a corner
of my bag
i like it
while i
listen to the impatient
honking cars
flickering lights
people with music
in their ears
and games in their hands

the orange
sitting in it's dark