Hidden by larafairie

Under these bandages
There is no pretty realities,
There is no merry laughs,
Innocent afternoons,
Nor livelings alive.
Under these petals,
My hope is waning,
My youth is drowning,
The candid decrepit,
Perfection a lie.
Under these rags,
There is a creature that weakens,
There is the sadness that witnesses,
Passions ethereal,
Me wanting to die.
Under these encrypted marks,
Truths that are hidden,
My lust forbidden,
La vie est un songe
J’habite dans mes songes
Unearthed delight.





In fragments …

Three sisters

Picture by Ciro Galluccio

Write in white my mind
Tell me how, tell me know
Stories and origins of the mind
Let the ink cross my hand
Alas! Do not let it dry.
My days, they go by gallows songs
Today by you, on the morrow, on the go…

And I cry a wordless litany
For those instants crossing my way
Breaking my embrace, cleansing my slate.
And then, my voice is reduced
To the empty, skilful words of my eyes
Rapid reconstructions of fragments
Some groundless, artificial, corrupted
Others, broken into silence.
And then, my spirit forgets the solace
Of the justice found in truth
Captured in the commodity of the isolation.

The sweetness of touching many walls,
Yet breathing nothing in.

26 February 2017



Litanies of the heart I



10 August 2016

Withered heart, hardened skin,
Time marches on
Dragging our bodies to the Sun.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Sweetened lips, your tender youth,
You run afar
Hauling us off to the bell jar.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Saddened sleuth, forgettable kin,
We bleed you away
Memory in slumber, will never neglect.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Maps on strips, vigorous embrace,
Grasping my heart
The day begone, bygone the charm.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

And the world will turn, your eyes intact,
Stories resembling yesterday’s lives.
And the Valkyries will sing no stars aligned,
My lineage lost, your urges denied.

              The day begone, bygone the charm.

Photo by Nicola Davison Reed

War with(out) you

26 July 2016


Blessed be thy hate, by Katya-h


Where are you now?
Hiding in the back of your word
Caressing other people’s minds
Suffering your faith,
laughing at mine.

Will you send word to me?
Of your heaven’s delight
Of the secrets of your Order
Of your days’ glories,
My hardship, divine.

Are you keeping company at night?
My soul wishes you an Irish blessing
In other, the darkest eyes
Giving you warmth and solace,
The most ancient desire.

Will you spare me touch and vision?
My eyes repeating in loud voices
Each of your wee lullabies,
Singing compulsive odes
Of duties, treason and your heart.

Will I succumb deranged?
Worlds colliding in my blinking eye
Division reviving my deepest ambition:
Your side, that is battling
My memories, dwelling of mine!

Easy come, easy go

16 July 2016

Tristan and Isolde, John William Waterhouse

You’ve tempted me in a life declaration
With your ancient enlightenment
And I crave for Sophia in your embrace,
In that very gone moment.
You called me through blood maps
With your senses thirst
And I fell for the ancient hoax
In the starvation of my ghost.
You’ve fled through the morning mist
With your verb hostile
And I died for a second in the draught
In the perennial desire.
You’ve planted a seed of destruction
With the lenient touch
And I am burning alive in the silence,
In this loathsome void.
And you continue to plant those desires
With the skill of a cavalier…
And I await in the stillness of my shadows
War manifesto or the pettiest of your tales.

The tear beneath

13 July 2016


It is painful a laugh
At the drowning scene
It is torture to love
At the dawn of the Young age.
And to bleed is a lonely labour
For tears are only for thee
And to pretend is an empty candour
When the scuffle is beneath.
It is a dreadful vision
Blind bullets, bitter concord
It is that crystalline prison
Comfy home, draining patrol.
Here I am lost in a garden of my own
For the dark dimensions are endless
And impossible we roam alone in our blood
No touch, no consolation, no caresses.

Recipe of the Life

6 July 2016

Illustration Endless cycle by G1mm1ck

I was the daughter of the Sun
Running blindly to the Darkness
Innocent songs of wishes, desires
Guiding this will in sin, the hunter.

I was a disciple of Artemis
Running wild into Fierceness
Loud elegies of vision, faith
Growing this will in regret, the repentant.

I was a wanderer of the Forest
Running relieved from the pain
Penitent eulogies of love, kindness
Draining my will with blood, the druid.

I am an Alchemist of the Moon
Roaming blissfully in my surrender
Lustful odes of my Nature, ambitions
Making my will alive, the unknown.