the ghosts are still here...

The living worship the dead

The dead man is the Lord of care and love

The living man is nobody

Unless he dies. In vain.

What a day

what a day

It's never ending

Waves in the ocean

They always come and never really disappear, just change their tides and size

This war is going nowhere

We came from the water

We come back to it

Never really gone

Never really seen

Never really heard

i look at my apartment, and i think that I might catch a mental illness. i don't remember much of my life in this apartment where I spent the last 4 years.

That's what our ancestors probably felt like when they were starving to death, tortured to death, raped to death, beaten to death, burned to death, bullied to death... we all will die and nothing about us will exist after us.

And they still want more. They want to exterminate us. They want to take away my life, my homeland, my name, my blood, my memory, my love, my freedom.

This is what probably my ancestors felt like.

Not a single generation of my family lived a peaceful life without russians coming to their homes and killing them.

I await my death too. I await the death of my father in the front. I await the death of my brother under missiles. I await the death of my sister from a broken heart. I await the death of my mother from the grief.

It's not my desire.

This is the reality of each of us.

We have death every day. We wait for it, even far away.

But baby I'm so blue. What's that about?

And cry at night

They drink expensive coffee

At 7 pm

They take pictures for social media

And talk of death

Cool girls accept all gods

Or none at all

They want a house

And peace in the heart

Or eternal rest for good

Cool girls dress well, and get sick with flu

Cool girls work hard or rarely do

Cool girls want to be loved and love too much.

What do Cool girls dream about at night?

I should ask you.

I hate this. I see myself in you. I hate myself. You hate me too. You hate THIS too.

Let's disengage. Let's break up. Let's bounce off of each other into the opposite ends. This must end too.

Life is so short yet the years are so damn long

I'll come back to you

I'll crawl down on my knees

To ask for forgiveness

And will ask to give in

I'll ask to let me go

To let me have it

But now keep it all to yourself, keep it safe from my hands

Just rambling, you know

Or vice versa.

Hot summer evening. Around 6 PM. You wake up from a nap - the house is silent, the doors are all open to let the draft in, and everyone's sleeping. There is a wave of sudden gentleness, care. The silence and peace and togetherness. You walk on your toes as if it's something fragile, god forbid you disturb the peace. It's a serenity thing. Sharing sleep.