Price tag

It’s not like I’m attached to things
their value just defined by purpose
but then again it makes me think
why some of them still make me nervous
just sitting there, existing, menacingly
threatening, twisting passing-by thoughts
summoning memories and I ought to
almost call it necromancing if they weren’t
kinda beautiful, kinda sad and kinda
still there when I should have thrown
them away by now, shouldn’t I.
But I can’t, it’s just like that cause
they have a number above the head,
a certain value measured in love
paid for with a heart and a half
and just for right now I’m struggling
so seeing them out is just too expensive
until some day I can maybe afford
to forget you.


Somehow I can’t seem

to figure out what to do

with all of my dreams

and my thoughts of you.

I left them in a chest but

no lock keeps them in,

I drowned them in rum

but these beauties can swim.

I stuffed them in letters,

sent them far away but

they keep coming back,

return to sender it may.

So I tried to hide you

in the poems I wrote

but you were my poems

each and every note

and “f*ck it, I tried.”

is what I will say when

I’ll overdose on you

some lovely day.



crap, I started writing.

Most of the time
writers run on
love, tears or booze
and even though
results may vary it’s
still hard to miss their
heart’s handwriting
between the lines
drenched in wine
as they write words
they couldn’t say
to eyes that won’t meet
in dreams they really
shouldn’t have like
that next drink they
are thinking about
before they even
manage to finish the
one they have or
the poem they-

damn, out of gas.


They keep saying you left
but somehow I still hear
the wind whispering your
name when I listen close
and I can’t stop listening.

They keep pushing me
into someone else’s arms
but still I’m finding you in
mine when I close my eyes
and I can’t open them again.

They keep telling me
to throw my thoughts of
you away but somehow
they became a part of mine
and I can’t keep them apart.

They keep being loud
to drown out the music
but when it gets silent
all I can hear is your song
and I have it on repeat.

So I keep sitting on the shore
closed eyes, listening and
waiting for you to come along
some day to pick me up and
free my heart from quarantine.

(I know, I post a lot of 21P but these guys keep me going in a weird way..)

lost in translation

i think it’s lovely
how suddenly my world
got a lot smaller and
my nights got a lot longer
since the day you let me
find you in this mess
of an existence,
how despite the distance
we made it shrink
a little every time
our looks touched and
how you left a bit of
your paint on my heart
with every brush stroke
you have made and just
because of you I sit here
and write in my mind
day and night of pictures
that weren’t finished,
of dragons never slain
and scribbled cuddles
that were never claimed
before once again we
get lost somewhere
in translation.




To be honest, it was hard
not to fall for her and no
wonder he failed so gloriously,
too blinded and distracted
by her colors to see the lock
on her heart when she let him
have a taste of her love, day
after day before the clock
struck midnight and her doors
closed, keys thrown into the
deepest sea he has ever seen.
He could see them glimmer
ever once in a while so he
kept diving, deeper and deeper
and he knew he would drown –
only never finding the key
was much more terrifying
so he got lost in the depths
of hers, slowly running out
of air and maybe, just maybe
the key was an illusion, she
was a brief kiss of a passing
fate and his dreams of her
were nothing but just.. dreams.



There is beauty in the silence

I left myself in after the swords

of my thoughts clashed together

at night in a devastating battle

of pain and love, hope and despair

muted screams and deep breaths

trying to fill the emptiness with air

so maybe there would be no room

for the drink that I shouldn’t have

as I’m wandering the wastelands

the fighting left behind, wishing

you were here so maybe I can find

that something that has died in me

in your eyes, that something that

has fled my heart in your voice

and that something they call peace

in your arms.



Hard stuff

I don’t think I should
have any more tonight
after getting so amazingly
f**ked up last night and
the night before that night,
my heart completely and
utterly shitfaced, I might
have lost the fight and a few
of my brain-cells along with
any sense of time whenever
I see your devastating smile,
melting me like ice cream
on whatever can get remotely
as hot as you are and frankly
I don’t think I can handle
any more of your eyes tonight
because there’s a chance that
they just might pull me in,
never let me go again and
I would forget once again
how to spell my damn name,
how to press buttons on my
keyboard and how to stop
chasing a dream that could
be a little too big for me.
Could it?

как-то так by Hans W. Silvester, 1953


A distant place
you led me here
so full of grace
you left me here
enchanted me
and my old heart
with every bit
and every part
of yours that you
have left in mine
but without you
it cannot shine
the way it did
when you were mine
or were you, really?
I don’t know
but apart from you
I cannot grow
so heaven, hell
please come and
show my soul a way
to be your home,
my everything
to let me in and
I will help you
spread your wings
and see once more
that precious smile
so maybe one day
you can fly.



I guess somewhere
between heaven and hell
there is spot that is made
just for me, right between
light and dark, hot and cold
soft and hard, happy and sad
summer and winter, though
both do have their benefits
and I can’t even tell what
exactly I’m feeling anymore
somewhere in the middle of
deep black and bright white,
fire and ice, cats and mice
love and the fucking void
winking at me from afar
while you’re the dying star
that’s keeps me afloat,
levitating in a firework
of silence and whispers
I can’t quite understand
but I am desperately
trying to catch like
fireflies in a


Falling Snow by Düşen Kar