damaging relationships

A bar with sticky old furniture

Which hasn’t yet went bankrupt

Just because of its’ regular

Customers getting a little tipsy

Or very tipsy there every

God damn night

It’s a place where you feel like the

Time has stopped for this evening,

Who knows how long this place

Has been working

A century maybe or a few

Of these.

I was becoming one of the regular

Drunken idiots by the time

You approached my small town

Life that I’ve created with my own

Imaginary walls and

People with imaginary personalities

And even though I tried foreseeing

Their actions they’d always

Surprise me.

And you,

You were definitely not what I’d expected

You’d be.

At first it was shameful, I was an

Object for you to look at, a thing that

You create circumstances too,

I bet you were surprised sometimes too,

We both were the hands that controlled

Their marionettes and we both expected

Something different.

We’d always fight

And try to manipulate the other into

Something we both really didn’t want

After those evenings of

Impersonating characters we really weren’t,

We’d both be tired.

I saw you were getting bored with this,

With the pointless little game of

Changing personalities,

With trying so hard for it would only

Create a new reason to fight,

Maybe even with me,

I must have been such a heavy

Burden at first.

I wished so much for you and started

Going towards it, still dragging you

With me.

But maybe you were too lost in this

World to object our pathway

And maybe for once you gave up

On trying to find the right way for us.

And maybe that’s how we got here,

To the point where I’m writing you this

Letter, a poem that I know you will

Know by heart the next time I see you,

You will get it stuck in your head,

Carved on your imaginary walls that

Are so similar with mine,

You will create a melody for it

And maybe upload the song

To some crappy social media

Where it will make you more money

Than I could ever give you happiness

And maybe, just maybe, after going through

All of this together and separately

We will once again be okay,

Be ourselves


automatic actions / body functions

We live a life of automatic actions

I realized this once I put a second

Handful of shampoo to my hair

Without realizing it,

I also felt an automatic rush

When I saw you in the hallway,

When my insides erupted vulcanically

With butterflies,

Without a second thought about

How the hell did I get filled with

These gross insects.

When my heartrate went wild

As if there was a party being thrown

By my blood cells that wanted to get

As wasted as I did at that moment.

When that embarrassing blush crept

Onto my cheeks as if

I needed a bonfire to get all of the

People around me to get their

Temperatures higher, to not get cold,

Or I don’t know for what reason.

When I thought I’d start jumping

Up and down out of the craziness

Of the emotion I was suffering from,

That you gave me.

When I thought I could say and do

Anything there was to say or do,

But didn’t.

Because so many reactions in my body

Were happening and I couldn’t move,

Though I felt like erupting with energy,

Though it was all explainable by scientists,

Those cruel men and women, that

Work their whole lives to understand

What’s happening inside, so that when it

Happens you’d know how to react

When the levels of serotonin, dopamine,

And other liquids or not liquids with

Complicated names and effects, rise and

In the end it feels different

And you know what is happening inside

Of you, but you still can’t afford an

Appropriate reaction, because it feels

Much stronger than you understand in


You feel like you know until the moment

Strikes you as a lightning even if it sounds as

As crappy pop song.

And in the end I just used only as much

Of shampoo as I had because of that

Automatic reaction,

I just stood there while my whole body

Was reacting to your presence,

While you said something that I didn’t

Quite catch and walked away.


She kept getting lost in

all there was around her

in those walks after rain,

barefoot on soft groung

feet sinking in dirt

in ever so quick rides 

by bus

in a smoke of cigarette

she smelled life that’s so

precious and fast

she was so lost in distance and

disappearence of it

in fogs of joy and sorrow

in clother with stories to tell

in bloody falling down

in swearing to the world to

change, to see it prettier,

in sending gods to hell,

in cursing everyone around

for being so smart and


for being so naïve


But at the end she still got

lost in puddles of

fresh rain, mud and happiness

in colors of eyes of passers-by

in a memory of a song she forgot

and all in all it was

pathetically banal,

but she missed it anyway,

especially after losing it.


a poem for him, who I thought of

he desires not to desire

he is so tired from being him

he knows that it’s all temporary

he sees the trees, the beautiful trees

he tries not to finish his book,

just for a little while, just for 

the sake of saving it for later

he dies with the sun and

becomes alive again with the moon

he leaves us all

and will never




Societys’ illness

I used to wear my mothers’ shoes and clothes

When I was little. She would spend her day

Working. I would stay home and try all the outfits.

I would play my imaginary adult life and then

Hide in the closet. It had big shelves and I would

Fit in there. Play with my imaginary husband.

My mother doesn’t have one.

I’d play with my imaginary children.

My mother can’t play with me, she works all day.

I would make various hairstyles and pretend I’m

A princess.

Though I was always lonely.


I tried smoking cigarettes when I was seven.

Because my mother would smoke them everyday.

Couldn’t understand why, though.

I tried alcohol when I was ten.

Me and my cousin sneaked around and when our

Parents were not able to see us, we took a sip.

Couldn’t understand why they were drinking it either.


I always wanted to go to school, because that’s

That’s what adults do. I wanted to be an adult.

When I went there for the first time I was

Oh, so excited.

But then it hit me. I was growing and my life was

Getting worse with every day.

Bullying, depression, self-harm, eating disorders.

Then I just couldn’t understand why my mother

Was going to school and was so glad to let me go to

That soulless place.


I reached my adulthood. I now am a helpless

Hopeless personality. I’m just kidding. I am

Nothing. Society was hitting me the “Normal

Standards” like the ocean waves in a storm.

I’m alcoholic. I’m helpless drug addict.

I’m a distracting prostitute.

I’m the thing you parents are telling you about,

To scare you about what worst could happen.


I’m in your dreams. I’m your illness.

Oh, you could help me. I always laugh in a scary way.

You are shocked by the way I distract you.

I’m everything bad could ever happen to you.

I can smell your fear.

I’m here.


The bartender

The snow fell that morning. I was feeling a little bit down because of my situation. I lost my job and got in a fight with my best friend. Even if I lost my job temporarily, because Bob, the owner of the bar I worked in and my boss, got drunk and mad, which might have been my fault (there’s a rule I’ve learned through all these years of my life – I’m not that old though, dont’ be so judgemental, only 34 – now, back to the rule: never tell an alcoholic to sober up!). And even if my best friend is a cat and he won’t be mad for long, I still felt kind of down.

Snow fell touching my face softly, my black hair was covered with it in seconds. I almost started dancing out there, but held myself in control – couldn’t let Bob see me dancing happily through his window, I might never get my job back. So I went home after a very short shift, that I’m sure isn’t over yet. Bob will call me the second I get home. So I went to a pet store and bought some cat delicacy with salmon, which I knew Joe would like. It’s my cat. Joe is my cat.

When I got home I got a call from Bob – just as I thought. Also fed Joe, because he was still pissed. He ate and looked at me. I was waiting for verdict. Joes’ green eyes scanned me and he decided to meow and purr.

‘Good boy’ I said and stroked his back. His black fur was soft and messy. I then got my laptop in a bag and left through the door. ‘See you this evening, sir Joe’ I said and closed the door.

Work went casually. I have my regular customers – mostly women in their fourties that drank martinis and margaritas and there always were a few local male alcohol enthusiasts. Bearded, smelly from hard work and loud, talking, laughing and hitting on my spectators. Different people from around the city came in everyday. I made some amazing coctails, heard some people discuss and reach a consensus – I’m the best. And single, too.

Bob came to me. ‘Hey you! Sorry about today, Steve! I wasn’t myself this morning’ he laughed and touched my shoulder. I always thought that he was at least a little bit bisexual, or he just liked touching people softly that much.

‘No problem, Bob! Pardon me for telling you what to do, mate.’ I said and turned to making coctails. People acted weirdly towards me talking. Apparently, I was too straight forward. Eventually I stopped talking in vain, but whenever I said something people would still look surprised. So did Bob. Or maybe he was just a little too into me.

After my shift I was cleaning the bar table and a lady came to talk to me. The bar wasn’t closed yet but most people were already out.

‘Hello, my name’s Vanessa. I was wondering, maybe you’d like to go out for dinner with me?’ the lady said. She looked a little out of space here with her red tight dress with, a decollete so deep I could see her underwear through it. Looking at her face I was amazed by the fact that she wasn’t drunk after all this time here, she came here with a male companion about the same time I did. Or she was that good at hiding it. Her eyes were almost as green as Joes’. Yes, I compared ladys’ eyes to my cats’. I’m just not that into people.

‘Hey, Vanessa. I feel flattered, really. But I’d have to refuse your invitation, I saw that you came here with a male fellow about the same age as me and without telling you the details on how I assume stuff, but I think you’d rather spend the rest of the night with that gentleman.’ I said. She looked taken a back. Maybe it was true, or maybe it wasn’t, but anyways, I didn’t want to go out with this Vanessa. She left jus after I finished my sentence. But then Bob showed up.

‘You know, it’s not how you get a young and beautiful lady like her to have sex with you. And I wasn’t expecting that such a handsom man like you would manage to ruin such scenario with three sentences.’ Bob noted. He looked desperate. I turned to him sympathetically.

‘Sorry to disapoint you, comrade. But I’m not very fond of human company in my bed. My mother is always complaining  and fighting me about my life style. I believe, she wants grandchildren and a daughter-in-law, or at least a son-in-law, but I’d rather just live alone with my companion Joe.’ I looked at him to check if he understood my point. He then looked disapointed and astonished. ‘Joe is a cat.’ I explained. Bobs’ mouth formed an o and I just finished cleaning up. ‘Oh, Bob! I’d like to go away for a termless period. In a week or so, do you think, it’s possible?’ I asked. Bob turned back at me. It seemed that he had a variety of emotions going on, mostly anger, understanding, anger, then I guess he tried to think of a solution or a way to make me stay, understanding again, anger again. A narrow range of emotions I’d say.

‘Uhh.. yeah.. sure, Steve. But are you sure you want to quit? Maybe I could convince you to stay? A rise, maybe? You’re the best bartender, man!’ Bob said.

‘I’m not leaving right now. I have to take care of some business. You know, library books, taxes and other things. I’m staying for one more week maybe, you can find someone to replace me.’ I said. Although I felt flattered by his words, I was bored of the rutine, me and Joe had to heat things up a bit. I had an RV in the garage of the house I lived in, it was the time for me to travel a bit.

I was working in Bobs’ bar for more or less two years already. Me and Joe traveled most of the time since I graduated from university, stopping for a month or few to settle and rest from travelling. This town was an exception, we stayed for much too long. Maybe it’s time for us to settle. Or maybe I fell in love with Bobs’ bar. Who knows.

Bob closed the bar and we went home – he was my neighbour. He was the first person I met when came to this town. He was a bit tipsy that day, but he offered me a spot in his bar and to talk to the hostess of the house he lived in, because just recently there’s been an emptied flat. We moved in the same day and lived in that flat since.

While walking home, a black shiny car drove by slowly. But it didn’t stop. I felt something moving in my stomach. Anxiety. I took Bob by his elbow and pulled him casually into a back yard of some house. He looked surprised, confused and hungover. I took my phone out and called Bobs’ brother Harry.

‘Hello, Harry. Are you in town?’ I said.

‘Yes, how did you know, Steve?’ He laughed to the phone.

‘I didn’t actually. Look through the window, mate. Is there a black shiny car by our house?’ I asked impatiently. Bob looked at me like he was surrounded by question marks that were bugging him.

‘Umm.. sure, I’m just gonna..’ you could hear him standing up. ‘Uhh.. yeah.. Steve, there’s no such car, you know our neighours are… oh. Right, there’s a car there. It just drove into the driveway.’ He seemed tense.

‘Harry, could you come by Bobs’ bar and get us? We will be waiting. Don’t rush.’ I said and hung up.

‘What’s happening?’ Bob asked. It was hard for him to concentrate.

‘Let’s go.’ I said and we went back to the bar to wait for Harry. ‘The lady, Vanessa, who came to talk to me today just before we had to close the bar. She was with a man. I saw it. I’m afraid, they are looking for me. I’m sorry Bob, I will have to leave tonight.’ I finished and we got to the bar in time for Harry to pick us up.

The Misanthropic girl

short inspiration

The misanthropic girl who walked all the way to the biggest city. She said: ”You will only see what they want you to see, unless you will open your goddamn eyes.”. She took a step back, eventhough she didn’t want to go back to the old life she once had. She took a sip of the liquid she was carrying with herself. Someone, who could be watching, wouldn’t be too sure if that was water in the bottle. She lighted a cigarette. This night was so pure and magical. Not because it was warm or the sky was pretty. The misanthropic girl was thinking about everything but those things. She was smoking near this big lake that was so far away from home. She was wearing something she wouldn’t have wore in her old life – old and comfortable big blue jeans, simple black top, a cardigan and a brown hat. She felt like some old time musician with a back pack and a guitar she had near her on the ground. She was watching the water in the lake that was so calm and steady she wanted to even stop breathing so she wouldn’t disturb the peace and quiet she had around her. She wanted to play blues to the big and quiet crowd of this lake.

This night was so pure and magical. She left the place that she wanted to leave for such a long time. She didn’t have any money, food or other clothes. As she thought about it, it was a new, fresh start. She didn’t even have a name. She might think of something later. But now she was no longer afraid of anyone. Nobody would take that from her, there’s no one to take her place or name. First, because she was pretty sure, there was no one around that lake she was looking at, second, she no longer had a name she could call hers.

Last thing she did there, was put out the cigarette and left.

The misanthropic girl reached the city by foot. The lights were so bright. It didn’t matter where or what family she was from there. She ran away from the captivity. She could be anyone she wanted to be. Variety of options run through her mind. She could start her life as a hippie and travel throug the world with a bunch of crazy but fun people, she could grow herbs and sell them, be a witch for all she knew or a drug dealer, she could be some mysterious hooker in the streets and find a rich man like Julia Roberts in ”Pretty woman”. Not that it was her new plan. But an option. Most of all she wanted to sing in some old bar for people who don’t really care or listen, she could share her poetry to people and maybe, just maybe, someone would notice her.