Bleeding Ink 

These are poems about the shadows dissolved into the darkness of the world. Sometimes they belong to me, sometimes they belong to all humans. Demons we all know to exist.


Love is the problem

Poems written in a bitter-sweet state of mind and soul. It’s thorns and bloom. You, who loved in vain, you’ll know. You, who suffered, you’ll recognize.

Freaks of Nature

Demiurges, supernatural entities, monads, ghosts, ghouls, demons, werewolves, long forgotten gods… They stir in their sleep. When I can catch a glimpse, I let you know.


Mostly Void

 … partially stars… Science fiction

Epitome of Will  

Don’t let them fool you. These poems are killers. They’ve killed me. Thousand times. Over and over. Caught in a loop of suffering, I might repeat myself. On the other hand, if it didn’t hurt – if it didn’t cost me tears, blood and sweat- I haven’t done it right. Right?

Fatal Vibration

Music is my muse. Always.

Walking Frame

Movies. Something that caught my eye.


Poems not belonging anywhere. The lazy kind.

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