I went through gale and rain. I went through fire and burning sun. I went through scorching heaven and iced hell.

I now breathe but my lungs are filled with sand. It will take time until my sethian throat clears from the desert.

Now… I do nothing. Every muscle hurts, my mind screams. Nerves open like night flowers. Eyes shut to not see the day.


I have odd affinity for characters in fiction, who are little sneaky meow meows, with no redeeming qualities, with kill-count, and backstab-count, and who would ashame the creator of sin, in how lovable they really seem.

Kiss or Kill? No one knows!


Chamberlain skekSil, the king of liars. My, if he isn’t my first place poor meow meow of them all. I loved him as a child and love him now, even if I would hunt his twisted soul down and teach him what truth is :3

Ah, A-Yao, the backstabber supreme. He is such a charming, delicate person, who seems too good for this world. But hell, if he isn’t dark as heck. And he will make you trust him, and then, he just throws you off the cliff. Srsly.


So… I have weak spot for such characters, and they grind my brain every day and every night.

Please help…



“You Shall NOT Pass!”

I should tattoo it on my arm and/or hang on my wall as a written print. My life circles around this sentence. My heart is a resistance fighter and probably always be.


give me a world to fill
I want to spread my heart on the sheet of paper
and melt together with letters

broken raven flying over a non-existent forest
transparent fox trying to fit into reality


Sometimes I think my words, the words I talk with and the words I try to express my emotions, are disappearing in the mist, eaten by the nothingness, and people just pass them by, not even hearing them. The words, that bloom from rotten roots, to feed on decay and burst with feral wilderness. Wild and alien, like stalk of grass that grew between the street arteries.

Sometimes I think they are the only things that understand me, those words.

These little letters that allow me to drink their blood and form the new reality from it.

I want to believe I have place in this world. But probably, I should be swallowed by a book and be kept there, pressed between sheets, slowly drowning in the story.

Secret Garden

I grew secret garden between my brick walls. She is on the swing – I look up, to catch my happiness, gleaming like a starry night.

It’s here. It’s really here.

Between Today and Tomorrow

There is a love by the corner.

There is a love behind the veil.

There is a love between today and tomorrow.

Evening filled with hot chocolate and cookies, Middle-Earth and… truth.

Goddess, give me the strength so I wasn’t a coward. The words I will utter, I use so rarely.



My dog thinks cats are horses. If you say ‘horsie’ next to him, he will start searching for my cat. I blame myself, tbh. And my dog is really intelligent. There is needed a higher intelligence for that. My Barnaby knows at least two animals other than dog. Maybe doesn’t differ them, but still.

No cats allowed! I mean, no horses in this room…


We are tired, me and my soul. My body is tired and my heart too. I feel like an elven creature, ordered to depart to Valinor, even if they don’t want at all. They want to live a hobbit life, among fields of wheat and forests filled with mysteries.

They want to run through wilderness with a bow and arrow and shoot the falling stars.

But they are also taken by the hand and pushed on the boat. To leave forever.

And that way I feel lately. Out of place in immortal land. Leaves and pine needles in hair, among the marble statues made of perfection. Wearing a stone gown, that traps them in the moment, while the exact moment is causing their skin bleed.

I want to dive into secret pond, in a garden of moss delights. I want to hold my breath forever, looking as bubbles of immortality drift to the surface. Exile me from Valinor, give me something to sing about.

Something wild. Something strange. And at the same time completely normal.

Give me life that I could call my own. Even if for a moment, which would replace the one I am trapped in.

Give me a wind that would take my breath away and filled my lungs with juvenile joy.

The boat drifts on my shore… like a reminder… and like a promise. This creature is scarred but still so alive.


you are savage, my soul
drowning in deepest lakes
choosing the darkest oceans
to sink in

you are so vile, my soul
breathing in the white flames
craving for scorched skin and burnt hair

you are gloriously evil, my soul
taking in the darkness
and building an armor from it

we are so wild, my soul
tearing our flesh to the bone
but standing still after the battle

completely alone


I am made of dreams and nightmares. Of fire and earth.

Flaming mirages of good life, that is so close yet still unreachable, like forbidden fruit; juice dripping on my skin, staining it with red and yellow, with sun and stars, but never reaching my mouth. A torture of being one step from the fulfillment, a personal Tartarus of punishment without guilt.

I am becoming Hades himself, shaping my torment into strength; I am a king of my own pain, a god of Styx, which flows through my veins long enough to change my heart into a bone muscle, pumping ink, feeding on my own suffering.

I am stronger with my shadow. It eats my fear, and replaces it with anger.

Which kills my enemies with burning flame, buries it alive in the black soil. My nightmares scream, my prey writhes in the net made of crimson rage and blood thorns.

I won’t go in peace, I will fight with talons and teeth. To reach the forbidden fruit, to the sound of fate’s laughter turning into delicious silence of death.