A rock-climbing trip to Baile Herculane
It was in Romania in a ghost town called Baile Herculane. Back in the Soviet Era, it was a popular and luxurious holiday destination. It is a strange town, really. Comprised of tall concrete hotels—relics from soviet times—, even older classical palace-like buildings eaten by rust with broken windows and keep-out signs, wild dogs, rusty bridges over the Cerna river, and aging locals with unmistakable features. It was a slow and isolated microcosm, a place outside of time. Cupped between the palms of enormous stone hands.
Guided Meditation: Dive Deep
Hello. Thank you for being here. Thank you for taking the time to soothe yourself and show up for yourself. Let's start by taking a big belly breath. Inhale as deeply as you possibly can. Hold it for 3-2-1, and release it along with any tension in your body. Let's repeat this for a few more times.
Could have been
Could have been so much more Is a particular species of what if. A sneaky one. Creeps up on you In the guise of uniqueness.
I'm not looking for you
I indulge Is this a phase? I'm not looking for you But I'm looking for... A high And it's not to replace you Anymore.
(Self-) love is key
I need this good love Do I find it in others? Or I already have it in me. Others are just the key That open the gates
Nostalgia montages Don't believe the liar. Take the scissors And the glue Stab hope in the vagina. Cut the ties,
My hands don't reach for you anymore
My hands don't reach for you anymore. Have no right to. I learned to lose you. You are the source and the antidote.
Relapsing into you
Relapsing into you You are my saved password Will not be erased until replaced. Would you be the answer? I haven't written poems