Awkward silences,
bitter like a bag of lemons
hang over you,
reminding you
that life could be different.
You find yourself
in a pool of bath water,
because nothing
is ever as it seems.
Shadows and expectations
are two biggest enemies
of mine.

– Chatty Owl –


Such pleasure
to feel that bitter taste
on my lips –
a mixture of nature
and stale moments of today.
I touch the cold body
of the tin cup
while you warm up
your cold fingertips
on the small of my back.
This is the perfect moment,
you whisper,
and just like my gin,
I gulp
your words

– Chatty Owl –


I lay still
patiently waiting
for you to come back to me.
Time slowly spirals its hands
one loop at a time,
until I find myself
by the faint murmurs
of the street.
I shut my eyes,
listening to untranslatable coos
of a pigeon,
for your voice
to wake me up
from this

– Chatty Owl –


I hug my loneliness and offer my body to you.
The need to have your hand on my face
is so overwhelming,
my eyes are begging you to

hit me,
wipe my tears,
touch my cheek while you look away.

as long as I get the physical expression of what you call
a lustful attention.
The minute I wake up,
I want to replicate the fantasies in my head,
thinking that if I act long enough,
my life will become a pool of petal-filled happiness.
Pretty as a snowflake
and cold as a thousand of them,
I learn lessons of life
the hard way.
One step forward and three back –
that’s the pace of the mechanical love.
Poisoned with apathy,
I stare at pictures of myself,
while my fingers are busy picking cogs
out of my favourite clock.
Time becomes irrelevant,
when your life is inked with misfortune.

– Chatty Owl –


I remember the odour
of your leather
while deafening German sounds
were slowly killing me
with a desire
to never stop kissing you.
I remember the scent
of your embraces,
they felt like you
were borrowing my life
for some freak show.
Years later,
I’m here again,
in the sweet spot
of square one –
same name,
different letters,
and yet another indescribable feeling
of loss,
just in reverse this time.
I looked up to you
so much,
it started to feel
like a hungover cocktail
of hot and cold.
more than by any other experience
in the past,
I finally overdosed.
On you.
And it seemed like a such good decision.

– Chatty Owl –


That new feeling
of opening my eyes
and wanting to •not• die.

I silence my needs
with my own hand,
as if wanting to feel
what it is like
to feel them drip
between my fingers.

I’m drunk
on your ruptured love,
and I’m sober
because of the lack of mine.

Months and months
I spent watching
eat me from the inside.
Holes in my words
were making more holes in them,
and I was deteriorating
from within.
I still feel
the sting of your words
the taste of my own ones,
stuck in my throat.

Like the smell of the sea.

I constantly look for you(r)
I substitute this strong feeling
with a physical need.

You know,
I would kiss
every man in this world,
if it meant
I would feel at least half
what it was to be with you –
imaginary moments.

My days became a ghost town,
where I walk alone,
thinking about those split seconds
when I gave myself to you,
and didn’t even dare to think
I’d be eaten alive.

– Chatty Owl –