Sous la plouie, elle reste coquette...

„Ne iubim ca doua bete de chibrituri. Nu vorbim, ci ne aprindem. Nu ne sarutam, ci provocam «incendii». Cat sunt de inalt, de un metru saizeci si sase si jumatate, corpul mi-e zgaltait de un cutremur de pamant. Inima evadeaza din invelisul-inchisoare, se scurge prin artere, imi ajunge in teasta si se preschimba in creier. Sunt tot o inima, de la fiecare muschi pana in varful degetelor!“ Mathias Malzieu, Mecanica inimii


Nu te mai suport. Nu mai suport. Piei!

El o priveste de la departare, o observa, stand tacut pe banca. Un dans printre fulgi de ploaie, ar vrea s-o stranga la piept tot timpul, pana din ochii de copil i-ar curge tematoare, tremuratoare, lacrimi. Monolog cu sine insusi, el stie ca acea clipa va veni si-l roade cu taria ei otrava ce colcaie in sangele fierband, oxidandu-se in mici bule de oxigen. Acizi, plamanii-i freamata sub miile de ace de monoxid de carbon, radioactiv pulseaza cianura prin corpul lui. Dar inima inca-i respira tacuta, in batai aritmice. Si el o vede in continuare pe ea, dansand in fata lui, alergand prin cercurile de ploaie [sau de ninsoare, caci el nu mai distinge stari de agregare, ci doar silueta ei]. Si stie ca n-o va avea vreodata.

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Inchide ochii. Il ferme les yeux. Prin pleoapele secate de umoare simte cristalinul cum se zbate si freamata ca nasul pradatorului in fata victimei. Ea vine de pe balcon uda, aducandu-i de pe pervaz o cafea deja racita, asezata pe o carte cartonata. Dar el e orb. Ea il inveleste si soarbe din cafea. Lui ii pune whisky. De l-ar putea ea proteja de propria ei masca, de hidosul chip pe care, perversa, il ascunde sub ochii mari cu pupilele dilatate ce il privesc neprihaniti, parca nevatamat de pur se-ntoarna pe sub gene. El deschide ochii. Il ouvre les yeux. Ea il saruta pe frunte si ii strecoara-n palma un bilet. Ii aprinde o tigara, fosnind-o intre buzele ei si, delicat, i-o streacoara intre dinti. El ar vrea sa priveasca spre ea, dar in fata marea se prelinge suvoaie pe perdeaua parasita, iar frunzele - presentimentul toamnei ce-a trecut - se propaga spre vidul existentei lui. Tic-tic, clac-clac. Creierul lui e un ceasornic caruia i-a sarit rubinul de la secundar. Te poti masura fara secunde?

Banshee nights

 Fonn ar eagla é rian an doimhneacht oíche.
 Bean sídhe tógtha i céir caoineadh zour caoin adh i dúinn.
 Bás timpeall orainn hastily leis an bháisteach 'guth
 Foirtil cnaipe a bhrollach bog i gcoinne ár thorax.


You sense her liquified as you drown in her smoky flavour. Streams of green light burning your soul, emerging from flesh. It's the glimpse you seek, have you stopped searching for it ? The torch of sacred fire lightens my bare body, slowly fading into the skies' blue abbys.
His hair was a light auburn and his hands of a singular delicacy and whiteness, owing, I dare say, as much to his sensible, sober and rational character as to his infirm health. Between death and morrow, he seeks the light of sorrow. There once was a beautiful lady, whose porcelain face was white as milk. Her voice - the sweetnes of the honey, her eyes - as deep as devil's heart, with shadows conjuring in flames of green. As she dripped in venom pouring words, he slowly danced across the moon-lit graves. Her voice, it temped even the shallowest seagul.
O'Niamh Étaín looked up at the lighthouse. Its' shadows and lights game was nothing but the tearing image of night. Waves crushing; powerfully protruding through pure innocence's cry. Pasionately striking the ground, her emptiness filling the air. A dance of colours makes autumnal feelings painted red. Twilight of grief, she shall not strive for years thus far they sung. As she swayed, his gaze reflected in her silk pale-pink, scarlet flavoured dress, as their feet matched, she ran away, leaving rose petal traces in the dew stained grass. She promised to be his eternal love, and strangely, he believed her. Lips melting one into another, warmth and ice, the whole world vibrating at the same pace as their hearts. His whole world turning into her. But as the night faded in black, her mad blue eyes lit up the way. The morning's freshness found them dreaming, from out her bower, lights went streaming. And on the morrow they awoke, They knew that sorrow her heart had broke. His speech was fearful as the sad and sunken eyes of blue. Appetite burning fiercely the hunger quickly taking control. Run in a race of fire and harmony, dizzy blurred eyes - a sincere haze of beauty, gazed over with pure longing. Pulse running into her beating blood, her heart pumping in anticipation. His face was cold, his lips were gray, as slivery the water ray rolls to his carotide vein.


Eithne, be gone...


Be gone thou from here, you shall leave the souls
rest in peace, let them cease, with solid ground.
And bless their soul, be gone banshee
Beyond the soil we shall sleep on happy
The banshee shall return, but fear us with all your might
We’ll burn and turn you into seas’ of urn...




…but this time someone caught me and tied me. So I’ll never go away.


…but this time, my fall turned into a dance in a chilly night, down the Danube