I am a dying sister #22

Is there a fire


Are you tired

Of watching us cry?

Would it help you

Talking to you

Talking and talking

To the hovering mind?

Is it a comfort

For you too

Or you don’t miss it

At all

Was it bad to leave this

The life as we know

Do you really

Hang out with grandma

Or you found your friend

Who was spread


On the road?

I am a dying sister #21

Don’t make me quit, darling.

Don’t make me forget the open mouth, the dried palate, the nightmare sleep.

Don’t make me sweep the dust, close the window, move my bed.

Don’t make me enjoy the taste of chocolate, the quick pleasure, the nights.

Don’t make me color my eyes, pluck my brows, have it tight, tight all over.

Don’t make me nice more than I am, smile more than I can, flatter more than I should of.

Don’t make me thankless, unbeliever, barren.

Don’t make me quit, darling.

I am a dying sister #20

Two wheat grains

To chew them, to chew and to swallow

I run barefoot into the wall, the bridge beneath is made of iron

Into the tunnel I run barefoot, to seat and to roll down

The day is not over yet

To get a taxi, to get a taxi before the sunset

To wake up from the hallucinations and to move, move the pillow

I see my figure from outside

And another one, she is me too, with short dress and curly hair

Hug, hug your arms and don’t let go

Don’t ask me to join you, don’t ask

Grandma, I don’t have clothes, I don’t have a suitcase

Again I wake up and the clock is changed

Hallucinations, hallucinations and a red cheek

To look away, to change sides,

To chew, to chew and to swallow.

I am a dying sister #19

Damn you, world! I am sick of you

Calling and ask me to stay,

Calling and calling and never run away

Damn you, I hate you

Going around so slow, so fast,

Going my days, my nights, to the past

Letting me drawn but always around

See if your move, your work is well done.

You are sucking my time, you are blowing my mind

You let me see what you want, while for the truth- I am blind

Whenever I run there is you in the corner

Dulling the lights, tying me up, saying this game is over.

I am a dying sister #18

I miss you so much, brother.

I miss you and I don’t want to stop.

I can’t understand how could you go and never come back.

I can’t see how mom bites her lips and chocks her cry when she hears someone call your name.

I can’t see dad’s fragmented breath when he falls asleep on the couch.

I can’t understand why our friends left us. They better never should of come and promise “we’re here for you”.

I can’t understand the belief in faith and destiny. It makes me want to die too.

I can’t do anything for you. When it happened, I bagged God to give you ten years of my life. Nope. It didn’t help.

I can’t see who I am anymore.

I can’t recognize my tasks list.

I can’t feel anything.

I can’t be happy.

I am dying, brother, and I can’t stop it.

I am a dying sister #17

There are good people on the road.

There are good people at home.

They look into your pain, grab it in a brave hand and clench it from growing up

They hold your shoulders when they’re dragged on the broken floor

They slap your face when you get lost in the panic chaos

They don’t cry, because if they will- no one will be there to clean up the mess.

They are there for you, on the road.

They are there for you, and they are already gone.


I am a dying sister #16

I get lost memories since you gone, brother. I get memories I didn’t know I have lost.

I run, listen to your music. Looking for the alley streets, the empty ones, where there is no one to see my tears. Then I think – screw you, world! I am crying and I don’t care what you think of me, of my ghost look, of my loud gasps or whatever you see in me.

I run and run and hear your voice, see your life in a way I never knew I can, remember things I never knew I would remember.

Like that time we sat in the kitchen, with white papers and new crayons. You were about three years old. Joel and me were a bit older, making “a team” against you, the little one. Laughing at every move of yours. God, you wanted to be so much like us, you wanted to join us in the kitchen and we didn’t let you. Sent you away. You were crying , don’t understand why we don’t want you. How dare we. Mom got into the kitchen and gave us “the look”. We had to make a place for you. You got a paper. You got a crayon. You held it seriously, consecrated in your paper, tipped your head to the side and filled slowly the paper with color. Your mouth was open and your tongue popped out, with a big, big wide open eyes, deep innocent look, so dame serious. And, we laughed. Joel and I, we giggled on purpose and whisper it at loud to annoy you, ha!

I run faster. I see things I wish I could remember better. Deeper.

Like that birthday you waited for me in the central station, ready to celebrate. I see you stand there, and here, in the empty street, and I run my mind to you before my feet can do, I run into your waiting image, I feel the pain of being in-between memory and reality, the torture of seeing you merging into the street and then floating again in every blink, tear, breath. Going backwards instead of standing still.

It hurts, so much!!!

I run and I am dying from inside, getting lost in a jungle of memories. I am twitching for moments, getting frozen for hours.

I miss you like I never knew I will.

I am a dying sister #15

Run me, run me like a ghost

In circles,

Broken chairs

Empty squares

Run myself, run it all

To the wind, share my parts

The heart for the prayers

The mind for God

Lips for the sun

Foot for the beggar

One eye for the burn field

The other for the frozen leaves

Five fingers to the sky

One straight to the arrogant faces

Three were left ownerless

The rest is here,

For every willing.

I am a dying sister #14

I found my mom hung in her bathroom. Grey pajamas and bare foot, moving. “Mom!!!” I scream the greatest scream of all. “Mom!!!” I run from the room to another, all empty.

One bed is moving too. My brother is sleeping.

“Mom!!!” I shake her wildly, but she is not listening. So busy of being sleep.

“It’s my birthday today”, my sister is touching my arm. “Please wake up and take me out”.

Weakness is scrolling in my body and sticking to my knees. Someone tied my tommy to a huge rock and drown me in the dead see. Floating I am, breathing, but too heavy from moving myself.

Tasteless cornflakes. my mom is drinking coffee. “I had a dream about you”, I play with the spoon. “I saw you dead in your bathroom”.

“Take some help” she doesn’t look at me. “Take some help before it will be too late”. and she walks away. Now I know that silence is going to be between us for a long time. She hates when I say such things. I should of kept that dream to myself.

“I love you, mom”. I want to say.

but I don’t. 

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