Petru Teodor

a half-made heart inside me lays blood and tears mingle in my veins, pain and its coma drip my skin is sour from words that touch, sounds and the silence in-between a bridge that never mends

I woke up the morning with my eyes and let you in through my disguise you shivered stepping on the wet grass of the front yard with all the toys spilled out like the bones of a child you

when you wanna end it and it's never there the door and the character opens the hatch and there is you as a reflection and it never ends as it never started to end and it's growing like a weed of

I don’t need your tomorrows, not even goodbyes deep in your sorrows and colours of eyes lingers one of the lies that sinks in your heart that one is just what holds inside and uneven in such a

Foreword Once upon a time, a small poor child was crying on the edge of his bed. In this prodigality of joy from the long-ago-abandoned childhood, I was that kid crying on the edge of myself,

memories seem sometimes a little abstract where nothing apparently happens when halfway through you're waiting for it and flashes are passing through you like the rain, or the angle of sun, or

all this silence in the world when there is no song and the doorman with one-hundred faces and one smile opens the door I wonder what I will say to him and why there is a feeble stream of

first I've learnt how to expect and then I learnt not to expect what I want to expect and backwards and so on and so forth like a song that you really hate and I realise that this is like that

hello, oh, mother, oh mother of eye (I) why should I listen to your little spies why should I grow wings as do butterflies oh, my, oh, my the velvet is pouring and tears through my eyes but

(5. death) the truly and most holistic answer that we leave behind and what wants to be a reaction to the step that we took is one word love but we miscalculated the trajectory the

so tired I might put myself in the womb to rest stretching my fingers like dry-cords you're whispering the words I'm so blind as I might have been before while you are wiping me out of

(3. acceptance) what are you selling, gringo? bulls skinned alive while staring into the depth of red sky screaming with tears in wine... what are you selling - a blink of an eye? you're

what's wrong with this orange I'm flipping papers as I browse souls I didn't understand anything you told me tonight as if this is the night before an after I feel cheated and I feel like

music was hitting her feathers  and flakes were filled with blood  and she was sold by the piece  a penny a pound  he was longing for her, grasping her foot, her ankle  on which pupils wrote

(1. numbness &denial) take it slow repeat word by word, letter by letter  everything   I am lost do you copy echo, echo do you copy can’t find my way back can you read me   stay calm,

at the sharp edge of the stage I do not believe in mortality I do not believe I do what is the sense of no in the I you?

becoming fish with scales of stars through mesh of wind so small so kin to everything * language of God the dance of souls so speak to me my love, my Lord * looking inside for