They come

 

They come at night, they kill, they retreat. We stay under our beds, praying. Many hours later, our uncle opens the door. The street is empty. The next door neighbour's door bangs opened with the wind. Half the street is dead.

 

Posted with Blogsy

The void

The void follows her wherever she goes, she calls it her pet shadow. She has resigned herself to its company.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

a young woman

A young woman in a foreign country seats on a sturdy chair. The view of the mountains: she cannot get use to them; she misses the flatness of her land. The phone rings, a male voice ask for her. Her spine creaks, she remembers. She breathes, hangs up and walks to the mountains.

Exile (1)

Exile is brutal. It leaves you skinless.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

A cloud

A cloud of blood descended upon her,

Thrusted her body into the wall,

Scattering her innards. 

Only her eyes remained.

 No tears, no words.

 Just blood.

H

Her world has no meaning, she declares -munching croissants drinking coffee

Black bird

Black bird singing

Tree losing its leaves

Creaking path, noises, fogs, illusions

Don't come back, don't come back

 

 

Posted with Blogsy