Sweet like Hell

Sweet like Hell

Bitter like Heaven

Chocolate mousse like mixture overflowing my brain.

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Grey Thoughts

Grey thoughts are blooming in my head like rotten apples dying in the tree. Drops of rain falling on my face keep me awake. I try to fall to sleep but I can’t because being in a coma doesn’t sound appealing to me at all. I don’t feel myself anymore. I’m just a machine who is programmed to live among other people. The last ounce of human carcass in my heart admires the nature. I’m sleepy and I’m tired. Goodnight Misery. Welcome blissful state of mind.

Colours of my Soul

Colours of my soul are enhanced by an invisible touch of music notes floating in my overloaded mind.

Dear Mother

Rotten flesh that was left behind my deluded soul. Open wounds and neverending grief courtesy of mental paranormal activities. Unscattered exposed brain presented to the world in the most mesmerising way.

Don’t laugh at me.

Leave me alone.

You don’t understand me.

Don’t change me.

You’ve failed to do it mother.

Rage. Sadness. Anger. Why can’t you understand me? Perhaps you are trapped in your own world while feeding of others like a fucking parasite. Compensating me for your self-appaling ignorance materialisticly won’t console your guilty conscience.

Don’t laught at me.

Don’t ignore me.

Leave me alone.

Let me breath.

You don’t understand me.

Don’t change me.

You’ve failed to do it mother.

Surrounded by demonic potency of the Inner-Self I reach the Garden of Eden. I skipped the Purgatory.

Surprised?

Such an incessant matter of you being constantly unlucky and dissapointed in your own existence. I acquired freedom from my sins.

Don’t laugh at me.

Don’t ignore me.

Leave me alone.

Let me breath.

You don’t understand me.

You’ve failed to do it mother.

I won’t return your love because you were frozen when I needed you the most.

Bleeding Imagination

I find therapeutic to release the images from my imagination in order to stay sane. It helps me to relax, it also inspires me to remain creative.

Pregnancy Brain

Pregnancy is a strange mental and physical state. All of the sudden you feel like some alien force has taken over every single thing you were previously in charge of. If I could compare my brain to an object I would happily compare it to this partially burnt gate called ‘Franky’ who proudly poses for the picture. I’m not saying that a pregnancy is not a miracle- it’s a miraculous and wonderful but freaky occurrence which sucks up every ounce of your energy you’ve had spared leaving you functioning like a Zombie. And yes, every pregnancy is different, some find it easy, some find it difficult and some loose the will to live. I stick with the third option. They say it will pass, it will get easier… Will it really? As far as I know I’m growing a human being inside my body and soon I will be responsible for their entire life until they mature. While I feel rotten to the core I embrace my partially burned and scorched pregnancy brain. Yes, I still manage to find happiness in my newly given sweet and wonderful misery 😊

Twisted Soul

My mind holds so many twisted pictures. I adore to release them because it makes me realise how special and unique my mind is. Someone would call it insanity… I call it therapeutic reality 😊

Pre-emptive Strike of Sorrow

Struck by a pre- emptive strike of sorrow derived from anxiety & panic medley I shall stand proud and withstand the shallow tide.

Music is my Survival Mode

There is nothing better than a soul comforted by music. It keeps me alive. It keeps me going. It reminds me that my Inner- self is there for me when the world around mentally crashes me in to pieces. Tune in to musically enhanced survival mode if you want to stay your real self.

Where is Friday?

Here I am again….

I am stuck at work.

I keep thinking about Friday because I’m convinced that the mighty Creator of the Universe has lost it or at least misplaced it. I’m talking gibberish but why oh why the weekend doesn’t last three days instead of two. Two days are nothing – you can’t even go to explore the surrounding territory because you are overloaded with chores.

Oh my sweet life and its straining routine there is still some mesmerising beauty in you which won’t vanish in distant time.

Routine is good, it keeps us organised and sane to some extent – ha ha ha ☺