Yesterday on the train
I was handed a snack
included in my fare.
A soft almond cookie,
same package as always,
seemingly
sweet and harmless.
I couldn't be more wrong,
my taste buds took a jolt,
too much at 7:30,
a sugar-coated bomb,
a punch of amaretto,
the scent of bitter almonds,
so close to that poison.
What leap of faith
toward a stranger:
the snack-giving waiter.
Those little bites,
mock cyanide,
could be murderous
in another life.
The heat,
the fatigue.
My soul said no
and folded
into a spore,
quiescent,
waiting for
quiet and cool.
Beyond salvation,
mental starvation,
self‑deprivation.
Burnout,
burn right,
burn left,
burn everywhere.
I feel too old
for new beginnings
in the chokehold
of this feral sun.
The bare minimum
is already
too much.
Whenever I smell
hot oozy tar,
I almost rejoice
‘cause I also feel charred.
A snowflake stays pure
only until it lands,
every fall bruises,
snow knows, and I do too.
I filled wounds with gold,
got them shiny as stars,
so that all the glitter
would blind prying eyes.
Isn’t cotton candy sweet,
but with a marred aftertaste?
Marshmallows swear that
charred is their best shape.
Adieu à Dieu,
I still see you from afar.
Electricity
feeds light bulbs
with sparks
that ignite
a shell of glass.
Equally,
alive fantasies
spiral together,
bounce and collide,
finding their shape.
I'm mourning my good mood,
for a fleeting moment
soft between my fingers
before slipping away, again.
I pray for its return,
though I don't blame it
if it chooses not to
in this depressing season.
Until then I’ll wait,
counting spots on the ceiling,
listening to pigeons cooing.
Amen.
On Placebo’s new 2026 tour and my twenty-plus intermittent years with their music.
A sigh, a blink of an eye,
twenty years passed by.
I’ve been much working
and also a bit pondering,
while some riffs and lyrics
came back in wave-like visits.
Stubborn ghosts
carrying on my behalf
a self blurred by distance,
all the graceful shadows,
the rough seduction
of my collapsing youth.
Protège‑moi
from forgetting;
merci
for the feverish melancholy,
for the songs that stay,
and for you, not yet leaving the stage.
There’s a need to sing
that feels very present;
for desires are prettier
in dimly lit darkness,
and my inner teenager
is angrier than ever.
Despite what mirrors give away,
I tried to never forget
to be the way I am,
even if it sometimes meant
being unknown and undercover.
See you in November.
What a time
to be alive,
but are we?
Sometimes I see
only empty vessels,
ordinary shadows
led by this fear
of letting neurons
run free.
Nature cries
in grand dawns
and sunsets:
“Stay with me.”
But no,
we turn away
in the name
of our strange love
for cages,
for the yoke,
while the oxen
watch us
with condescendence.
Why
being able to connect
with your deeper self
feels so sacrilegious
and so forbidden?
Why
when the world outside
screams in fuss and pride,
being home alone,
in candlelight,
staring at your demons
dead in the eyes,
feels so lustful,
so profane,
why?
Why
are we being taught
to deny
what’s inside
just to comply?
I defy.
In the heart of the night,
I choose to acknowledge
the monsters and beasts
that dwell in me.
I am whole.
and we are free.
I used to look closer,
to pierce the surface.
Glittering stardust I held,
in the palms of my hands.
The pencil was more than that,
it was a magic wand.
And then it all slipped away
with adulthood’s demands.
Are you still there,
curled in the dark,
comatose, sleeping,
in an unlit corner?
I’d send an army of fairies
wings fluttering,
light scattering,
just to wake you up,
my wild,
awe-struck,
fearless,
inner child.
The good girl,
the 9-to-5 girl,
the one who has more skills
than she’ll ever admit,
the one who could take more responsibilities
if she’d only wish,
is on the floor,
lying half-naked,
Joy Division in the air,
writing poems that are bad
but that matter to her.
An Istrian liquor,
wild pear,
keeps the juices flowing,
nothing more to bear.
Scented candles are burning,
flickering little fires,
blinding lights
in this obscurity.
A refuge
from the scorching sun.
The floor has meaning.
The floor is freedom
to do
what you’re not supposed to,
what you shouldn’t,
but you want to.
