Tunes.

Muse.

the color of your tiptoes are underlined in pain

wearing

same mistakes again

and again

and

again .

questions are answers you barely know

slipping outside of your window ,

truth escapes your roots

and it hurts to press it

while it still blows .

oh , what a foolish and pretending man you are ,

like a cover of a résumé ,

distinguished , yet afraid

to touch the tip of my lips

without letting my grip slip ,

tone out of reach ,

with a husky , voice deep ,

haunting , inspiring and neat

like a pleasing feeling

tickling me , kissing my fingers

- you're art , unavoidable , breathtaking

tearing everything apart , a daydreamer .

-t.f.s.

Insane.

Empty bed reminding me the screams that fill my head,feels like a dream,but i can't let go of it's reality. The thread of it,slowly becomes thin. Hitting the point where i lost my voice,can't be capable of screaming anymore.

The sheets cover my insanity,there are my fears hiding,hugging me cause they don't want me to go outside in this repeating society.

With these emotions i became insane.

My fears start to chase me when the lights are off. They would never let me stay in my comfort zone,they want to eat me alive and show my weakness,reveal me again and again. The darkness came to embrace my body as the whole world is crashing-splitting in two parts of reality and dreamland. Which world is the one that my heart desires the most? They turnd me as their anchor,i could run,but not reach them either. All alone in mixed space of pain and role play modes,my faces are always changing,i don't know who i should be,or maybe both. If I could find a way to draw my escape in my own chaos,i would believe that my exit is real. To find another piece of me,that's all i want. I want to heal.

-t.f.s.

Franz Kafka, from a diary entry featured in "The Diaries of Franz Kafka,"

unchained~victoria pettella

The Broken Column (inspired by Frida Kahlo's painting)

Love is part of my body ,

a molecule that I'm taking with me along with my loneliness .

For I stay forever young in

pain ,

I shall give freedom a comeback again .

These ribbons tied around

in a knot around my head ,

my body feels death ,

but my mind doesn't

feel the heavy thread.

In a world that doesn't forgive

I'm my own big relief

between you and me .

A "cripple" can see through shit

more than anything in the world,

even when I'm powerless

I can take a single breath

the way my hands

create the shape of a poem .

-l.i.b.

where can I find a lover? someone I can stare at the stars with, or have crazy discussions about literature til 1 am with? a boy who writes me love letters and reads me poetry with his head on my lap. someone to walk around museums with, and then tells me that my beauty doesn’t compare to statues or paintings. where do you get one? 

Mind.

Fulfill a destiny

in your hands,

there is no end

there is only death.

-t.f.s.

Singing Nightmare.

nightmare is a singer

singing in the dark as

there is a following cry

in the corner of my own.

sirens appear as

hallucinations of deep fear,

crying is not gonna save us,

trap is going to break us,

no one is here to take us.

the fear we are waiting for

is near...

so closer,i can feel the cold air

making goosebumps on my skin,

telling me to prepare

no time for deadly stories,

fear soon is coming,

screams aren't helping

they only break the ceiling

wishes in this planet

don't come true,

death is all for you,

all for you,

don't waste it

don't taste it,

don't regret it,

hear it...nightmare comes,

it comes for you to

sing you a song.