Some scattered words 

How a superior spirituel drive can transand you to a boundless and relinquished mood of deep meditation and recognition.

I uncaged myself from every rule suffocating me and unlocked my mind of all the misperfections hovering over my spirit and set myself free!

I still have those deep yieldings for loneliness in which I find consolation and redemption. I still mourn all the old times when I was innocent but I do not regret missing them.

I only regret the time I couldn’t recognise my dreams and my realities which ended me up to a closed resolution. My resolution is to recatch those treasured times and revive them in a way that makes able to live them again and call for their return.

The past is stuck in my inhales and in every inch of my skin, I cannot escape from its intimidation nor can I forget its grey misty savour.. I cannot deny its cruelty nor can I deny the strength it granted to me. It is my ruiner as well as my savior and I still praise all the soft and harsh effects it raised on me.

With love..


Traces of ache!

The ache in my chest is solid; I can feel it digging hard in my heart. My brain races round and round echoing the sound of tic tac tic tac and my heart pounds loud and loud and I am once again falling asleep in this unfathomable daydream.

I kept asleep, unconscious of my unconsciousness. I kept alarmed and cautious of my pain. A flash of intense pain and ache run through my body when I remember what I don’t want to.

I get bored with all of this and the rubbished kind of my life. As if my lungs cannot breathe in the air and my chest is blocked by a thick and harsh agony. The words are vanishing evaporating from my tongue and I am no longer able to spell, to articulate, to burst!

This impalpable and bitter emotion is stuck in my throat unable to move to come out to free me. I cannot swallow; it feels hard and uncomfortably dry. The hole inside of me is deep and full of shattered hopes and dreams.

A shadow of blackness comes across my mind and I feel dump, dull, dizzy. I don’t feel good; I don’t feel well in anyway. I need to cry with all the strength of my voice. I need to scream in the faces of those admonishing me.

I lie down on my bed and sigh under the duvet and seize the moment. When I try to catch the memory it just drifts away from my reach. I wipe my tears away from my cheeks instantly.



Sunday is raining


When my mouth is set in a straight line

I try to understand

Why I have to say something

I ask myself, if the raining would shut up and let me out

But I have nothing to say

When my mind buzzes with past, old, unwanted thoughts

Whenever I try to speak loud

My tongue is knotted, I cannot spell the word

I am suffocated, I am cut under the spell

My brain is frozen but my fingers are stretched

I asked my blank page to say something, to speak, to write what I can’t


In the vain

My coffee is cold now and I am too nonchalent to make another one

I read the paper, the news got me frustrated, I throw the paper

I put on the music stereo, I dance randomly, I don’t follow the rythm

I spit on the ground, I taste awful, I hit the ground by my feet

I write on the blog, I look for words, I cannot find the words

I spit on the ground, I wrapped my hair like a ponytail

I hate cold mornings, I hate frozen food as well

Mom makes me another coffee, mom caresses my head, momy’s hands are gentle

I love my mom’s hands, I love the smell

I check my email, I cannot find new emails, I feel dull

I close my laptop, I close the door, I eat the frozen food

I spit on the ground, I hit the ground, I taste awful, I unlashed my hair




My Winter’s Thrall

Intimidated by Winter’s silence which is suffocating me and all of the evil ghosts hovering in the grey evening sky.

The howling of wind intensifies my solitude and the dim scars of my memories drown me in my bleak desolation.

The naked trees, the gloomy clouds, the wet birds, the fierce waves are wondering at nature’s bareness agonizing me slowly.

Then I find my escape in admiring the barren silence of this misty winter by exposing my inner conflicting pursuits.

I embrace my winter’s grip while hiding my yearnings for bloossom and blooming.

But if I do not appreciate this mysterious, puzzling, empty moment I can never welcome the beauty of my coming season.

For my redeemption from this cursed darkness, I will cherish my bitter sweet winter trills

Writing Mood

When I hear my mother’s snoring and I am still awake, I feel it’s the right time to write. My hands are cold but typing few words will warm them pretty well. So, excited! I am into the writing-my-blog-post-mood which is something exquisite. It’s a way of getting out of an empty black hole that  my subconscious is sucked in. Or, a way of feeding my insatiable and hangry soul of everything literal. I mean , sensually speaking. I indulge in a plain writing experience, in the search of perfection? I don’t know what I am actually looking for, but it’s a kinda way of existing and backing up one’s spirit. Like a journey, I am travelling accross different places of different whethers, tastes, smells, and different people through my letters. I call it, a way of healing souls and minds.

Like magic, I am so horribly attracted to sexy language as a powerful tool to be acknowledged. I think, the way someone relates something which is different from the typical method does make the difference in one’s conscious. Accordingly, playing with words is just like playing with hearts and minds. The way one polishes and embellishes his words can get you in his spell. The mixture of something dark and deep, something devastating and soothing, something killing and enlighting creates a delicious sugary meal of words including some spicy language and salty letters and this makes a super tasty dish, not to be missed!

My subconscious tells me!

What is it about myself feeling perpetual and unstable! Easily moved and influenced, my subconscious always alerts me. How do I react? I simply induge in a complete mood of writing. Mostly, I write about « trivial », common things that happen everyday but we do not recognise them. It is a subtle way of healing that cures my body and my soul. Unconsciously, I dive into a status of blinkness and emptiness and that particular mood harvasts my inner feelings and desires to try out something new. So, I thought about writing whatever comes into my mind instead of taking a pill every moment I don’t feel pretty well.

I decided to weep off the thousands of tears I shed all nights and find out my perfect gateway. Now, careless about what is right or reasonable, I set my dreams, listened to my heart and sail away toward a new discovery. Sometimes, I feel that I didn’t deserve the sad part in my life, sometime i guess I did. It’s complicated, how I feel pethific about myself then enjoying being unlucky at some time. In the end, I guess I could be happier than how i am now, it is just the way I wanted the life i am folding in and the decisions I took that makes me write this way.

Being fake, is not me at all. I am a mere white paper displayed from the outside in the same way as it is from the inside. I love to be loved and flattered while necessary, I love love. Basically, I strive to be happy but I don’t know how. It is ambiguous how I can find pleasure in the same things that makes me sad at some point. So, it is me who is responsible for what makes me happy or sad. I must be honest, I tend to be indulged in sad moments when I could easily be in an outburst happiness and vice versa. It is complicated, I am complicated!