Drunk Sailor

Picture: Anna – Zoë Herr

Maybe the boat of a drunk sailor still finds home
 Leaning over but never falling 
 Salty crust in his hair and day dreaming under the moon
 A black night welcomes them–lonely as the sea
 The night just wants company but he will not give it
 He gives the lonely moments only to himself

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Thinkpiece: From The Fairy Tale of Fear

She can’t breathe. Trying to gasp for air. A rope is tied around her throat. She tries to free herself. With every breath she feels the narrowness. The pulse stops when he touches her. Millions of insects crawl, crawl and spread over her body. When he slowly strokes her shoulder, each of her limbs shrugs.

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Fiction: Golden Plains – Chapter III

A sea of sparrows lifts into the air. It was like the entire golden fields were reaching to the sky. We were all trying to see beyond them. Thousands and thousands of fleeting shadows cutting our sight. The chirping coming from all sides made it impossible to understand from where the screams where coming from. “Stay behind me, boys!!”- Tim screamed. Mile’s was behind me holding my shoulders. I did what Tim said. I could see in his eyes he was afraid but at the same time focused. I still don’t know what made me trust him up until that moment, and especially on that moment. “I won’t let anything happen to you, boys. Just stay put!” – He continued.

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Fiction: A friendship

You said you wanted to spend so many more summers with me.
You wanted to see so much more.
“The world, in all its width.” You said.
With me.
You wanted to taste the salty taste of the ocean,
bathe in the sea of emotions.
You wanted to flee reality, to be everywhere,
but not with yourself. “So let’s go, now!” You wrote.
You have always been a fascination for me.
Fascinatingly beautiful and dangerous.

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Fiction: Marble Dreams

The something I remember the most is the sun.
It is most beautiful when we see his light through the reflections on the white marble walls, bouncing back and forth between them, a dance of light and life, and an ode to the dead who first saw how beautiful they could be. The thousands of sparrows and starlings pierced the diamond light, ignoring us simple creatures standing on the streets. What could we know? We couldn’t even feel the air rushing throw our feathers, the sun pointing us the direction on the next corner. We are mere stone statues for this enlightened beings. They know their way through life. We instead, battle with the little time we have to enjoy it, always finding excuses to be miserable. Happiness is a future thing. Always.

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Fiction: Spring of life – Chapter III

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I always disagreed with my heart. It always pulled to dark end corners of my mind, where the impossible kept me afloat from the stillness of the life surrounding me. Always so behaved creatures, so controlled and straight. Mistreating and misbehaving the truth. The world needs more than the things it had so far. Change should be the ultimate goal on our minds.

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Fiction: Spring of Life – Chapter II

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Procrastination: Being trapped in a dream world that prevents us from living our dreams on the real one. My life so far was a steady monochord rhythm, two chords repeating day and night. I always thinking how the song would continue. As I turned my face to look at her on that spring afternoon, I heard the strings breaking.
No more music. No more nothing. My body went completely numb.  Continue reading “Fiction: Spring of Life – Chapter II”

Fiction: Spring of life – Chapter I

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I traded seagulls for ravens. On my backpack I had three days worth of clothes, and a toothbrush. On my heart I had a lifetime worth of dreams. I waited too long for this, and I wonder why… I don’t want to think that I was too long trapped in my fears, in my anxiety, such a cliché, right? I mean, being so aware of the cockroaches on my head I should have known better, shouldn’t I?

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Thoughts: Spilled wine

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How many of my thoughts are just spilled wine? Promises of a future that became stains. They will always be there for me to remember who I was and the life I aspired. They come from a time where I used to think how much I had already accomplished. My young mind was impossible to break down, happiness was always present due to the promise of time. I looked to days to come like constellations high above in the night sky. What is there to find out? How long would it take me to get there? How small was I compared to them, how big can I grow? Continue reading “Thoughts: Spilled wine”