Eastern Breaks

I am aware that the unwritten rules of bloggers specifically forbid not writing for long periods neglecting your readership.

I'm sorry, I was abroad and, you know, it was not my intention.

Besides, except for you and myself, there is no such readership here either. It's hard to really care.

Just bear with me, OK? I have this childhood trauma that makes me afraid of not being loved anymore if I don't keep myself performing up to the expectations.

The paralyzing fear that, precisely and preciously, prevents me from performing up to the expectations.

Aaah, *inhales deeply* the wonderful aroma of everlasting childhood traumas.

Buna Café

I don't feel like writing.

The empty space on my belly
has expanded until filling everything.

Time tables change,
cigarettes stink in my breath,
I feel tired and slow,

Fundamentals

There is a body clutching on my soul.

Everybody can see it hanging,
everybody refers to it as me,
but that's not how it feels.

Black Magic

She bounced rhythmically her head up and down
like one of those old toys found in cheap hotels
and Chinese food stands.

If you looked at her long neck nodding at someone else,
you would notice the quite exaggerated fashion
in which she did it.

Café Saara

They have grilled bread with cheese au gratin,
salad, tomatoes, mozzarella, boiled eggs,
nice suits and fresh orange juice.

I sit in front of an empty coffee mug
and a glass of water.

Tervasoihtu

It's Autumn and I sit and write poems
whose dullness makes me sink into my miseries.

Sometimes it has worked, now it doesn't.

It's Autumn, my hands feel cold,
where are the palm trees? where's my mum?
I should write more autobiographic poems,
they are my best, I think,
because I'm so great

Preparing Lessons

I stare into space,
I drank my coffee too quick
but I sit still and stare into space,