Traces of memory.

Waking up in the middle of the night.

Trying to figure out who you are.

Empty wastelands.

Abandoned feelings.

My weakness is a name and a date.

Negative photographs used to be full of colours.

Shadows following me around like stray dogs.

Loneliness isn't an option.

Oh, such an agony, learning to live within the realm of gray.

Winning losers in the game of life.

The final level is always unlocked.

The player cannot save the game's progress.

Game overs without any undos or respawns.

You cannot  play the same level.

You cannot skip any battle.

You cannot earn experience without losing.

Not all achievements are worth  collecting.

Golden trophies are made of tears.

Treasures are made of pain.

You can never reset your stats and start all over.

The game is playable but not winnable. 

All players are doomed to be forgotten.

Every player is an NPC from the POV of the other player.

Every journey must come to an end.

Every debt must be paid.

Every side quest must be completed.

The moment your progress reaches 100%, the game becomes dull.

Game overs are new beginnings in unknown games of new dimensions.

Don't be afraid of losing.

Don't be excited about winning.

Because all players are winning losers.

Perplexed feelings made of pixels.

Living inside of a broken Rubik's cube.

What can you see in the Rorschach test?

What can you smell in a photograph of a forest?

A click away from another domino effect.

Another wasted day of a vague life.

Temporary joy behind a tempered glass.

We don't consider airplanes as miracles no more.

Heroes of fairytales are retired; nobody cares about their stories no more.

An eternal sunshine in a digital simulation.

Tired of the same old scenery?

You can always change your wallpaper.

Tired of the silence of your house?

You can always put on some music.

Tired of your sadness?

Post a happy emoji.

Amusement is a tsunami which you surf.

The forgotten memories and oppressed feelings lie underneath.

But you will never dive in and explore them, no, not yet.

Not untill you have read every other post about what other people feel.

Not untill you have seen every other photograph about other people's life.

Not untill you have learned about everyone else except you.

Your self-understanding continuously moves away from you.

Every click is another footstep.

The saddest song with the sweetest melody.

I keep on singing it on repeat.

The lyrics seem forged into stone.

A stone so common yet so precious.

A stone made of dried out tears.

A stone i hold deep into my soul.

A collection of memories, wrapped into cheap velvet.

You can only wipe your tears with tissue paper.

Time will wipe your mental ones.

Time has shattered into two pieces.

One piece belongs to me.

One piece belongs to you.

My chaos kneels in awe before your beauty.

My soul is overwhelmed by your whispers.

Eternity is just a breath away.

When i hug you, clocks forget to count the minutes.

When i kiss you, daylight forgets to fade away.

My whole existence is a transcendental  hourglass.

The countdown until I see you once again.

The excitement, the anticipation.

My dreams are moments away.

Στη παρτιτούρα της ζωής,

Έβαλα μία γέφυρα,

Στην απόγνωση της σιωπής,

Σαν κλαρί έγειρα.

Στο κουπλέ της εφηβείας,

Έγραψα τρεις λέξεις,

Στο ρεφραίν της εμπειρίας,

Χάθηκα στις σκέψεις.

Η μελωδία της ζωής,

Σε άψυχο χλωμό χαρτί, 

Η βιασύνη της στιγμής,

Αδιέξοδος σε λάθος διαδρομή. 

Αργή, ακαπέλα εξιστόρηση,

Στίχος χωρίς αρμονία,

Μετρονόμος δίχως συγχρόνηση,

Αναχρονιστική ιστορία.

Περαστικοί θαμώνες,

Κάποιος ρίχνει ένα κέρμα,

Στιγμές χωράνε σε αιώνες,

Η σύνθεση μία Αχίλλειος πτέρνα.

My childhood dreams are always fresh.

I debunked my fears.

No more dragons; only fireflies.

No more shadows; only places where light hasn't reached yet.

Mickey Mouse will never grow up.

Peter Pan will never escape Neverland.

I will always honor my fantasy by staying innocent but no naive; i'm aware of the dangers, i simply choose to overcome their overwhelming toxicity.

Roses will never rotten if you are a good gardener of your soul.

Rainbows will never absorbed by the clouds of misery if you keep on imagine them long after they disappear from the sky.

My Disneyland is my life.

I'm a permanent citizen of Neverland without ever leaving my own house.

Because my house is made of cement.

But my home is made of emotions.

I belong to a place where no narrow mind can ever reach and no dry soul can ever understand.

My Disneyland is my safe zone and Neverland is my shelter.

Wanna come for a ride?

We are always open, 24/7.

No ticket is needed, no schedule is required.

All you need is your imagination.

An amusement park is an imaginary park; it can't be seen with your eyes, only with your hopes and your fantasy.

Far away from civilization but much closer than you can think.

Always open for kids, always closed for adults.

You can't really witness miracles if you don't believe in them, can you?

Σαν αρχαίο αγάλμα κάτω από όξινη βροχή,

Βραχνή φωνή σε άδεια κατοικία,

Σαν επίμονο ξύσιμο σε παλιά πληγή,

Η θύμηση γίνεται μνησικακία.

Το φεγγάρι ξέχασε να φανεί,

Νυχτερίδες του μυαλού,

Η θλίψη με την ευτυχία ακροβατεί,

Η αυγή έχει αύρα δειλινού.

Σκονισμένα συναισθήματα,

Κλεψύδρα με αναπνοές,

Σέπια στα κύματα,

Το αύριο κόλλησε στο χθες.

My bittersweet trembling.

My beautiful paradox.

A candle of darkness.

Inside your abyss.

Everlasting flame.

Diamond rain.

Nothing to whisper.

Nothing to regret.

Memories come and go.

Tides of my heart.

You are everywhere, all at once.

You are nowhere to be touched.

Living between 0s and 1s.

Permanent observers of transient stories.

Our smileys are made of rotten dreams.

Our posts exist in future digital graveyards.

Hurry up, like, share and comment!

Add your unique drop in a neverending galaxy of oceans.

My online friends are always busy when i feel alone.

My selfies are smiling but i'm not.

The simulation of companionship.

The promise of eternal remembrance.

My stories will never become dusty, my photos will never be lost.

My thoughts and feelings will be forgotten, but my actions will echo through eternity.

: + ) =  

: + ( =  

Now i'm happy, now i'm sad.

What do you want me to be?

What do you want me to say?

Words are seagulls that fly next to my shipwreck.

All you can hear is the song of the wind.

A song about adventures, a desire about journeys, far far away.

The more i chat, the less i communicate.

The more i post, the less i feel.

I'm not made of 0s and 1s.

I'm made of infinities and beyonds.

I'm not a drop of an ocean.

I'm a river that can't be tamed.

I'm not +1 comment.

I'm +1 fragment of the universe.

I'm not a new user.

I'm an ancient soul.

I'm not a smiley emoji.

I'm a surrealistic painting.

I'm not a post.

I'm a poem.

I'm not a famous hypocrite.

I'm a truthful nobody.

Ένα ορφανό ποίημα, γραμμένο με μαρκαδόρο.

Σε κάποιο παγκάκι, κάποιου πάρκου, ανάμεσα στην αιώνια αναμονή και την προκαθορισμένη φθορά.

Κάποιος/κάποια, κάποτε το έγραψε με έναν μαρκαδόρο που είχε δάκρυα αντί για χρώμα.

Το ποίημα δεν έβγαζε νόημα στους περαστικούς, πολύ προσπάθησαν να το αφομοιώσουν όμως κάθε καρδιά έχει κλειδαρότρυπα διαφορετικού μεγέθους και σχήματος.

Για όποιον/α το έγραψε, ήταν το μεταίχμιο ανάμεσα στη ζωή και στο θάνατο, η σιωπή σε μία παρτιτούρα που χωρίς αυτήν καμιά νότα δεν μπορεί να ξεχωρίσει.

Μία εκκωφαντική σιωπή σε έναν κόσμο που ακούει χωρίς να μιλάει, που σκέφτεται χωρίς να νιώθει.

Το ποίημα δεν θα σβηστεί ποτέ, το μελάνι στέγνωσε πάνω στο ξύλινο παγκάκι, όπως στεγνώνουν τα δάκρυα σε κάποιο μάγουλο που όμως το καυτό τους ίχνος έχει χαρακτεί στην επιφάνεια της επιδερμίδας.

Το παγκάκι αφομοίωσε λίγη από την πεμπτουσία του ατόμου που κάποτε έγραψε το ποίημα.

Αν ήταν ποίημα.

Πολλοί ισχυρίστηκαν πως ήταν 4 λέξεις μόνο, "Σ'αγαπώ ακόμα Ν.". 

4 λέξεις που μέσα έκρυβαν ολόκληρους γαλαξίες, ολόκληρα λεξικά.

4 λέξεις που κανείς ποτέ δε θα ξαναγράψει στο ίδιο σημείο στο παγκάκι, 4 λέξεις που δραπέτευσαν από την κρύα λογική του χωροχρόνου, 4 λέξεις που έδωσαν οι ίδιες το δικό τους νόημα στο σύμπαν των αυστηρών προδιαγραφών.

4 λέξεις που αποφάσισαν να στοιχειώσουν το παγκάκι, ένα παγκάκι που δεν έχει τις ρίζες του στο τσιμέντο ή στο γρασίδι, αλλά σε ένα μίνι-σύμπαν, ένα ψυχικό μικρόκοσμο όπου κατοικείται μόνο από 2 άτομα: τον/την ανώνυμο συγγραφέα και τον/την Ν.

Ένα ορφανό ποίημα που κανένα τετράδιο δεν είναι αντάξιό του, καμία συλλογή με απομνημονεύματα, καμία αναφορά σε κάποιο υπόμνημα των χρονικών εκείνου του μέρους.

Ένα ορφανό ποίημα που ανήκει σε όλους και σε κανέναν.

Ένα ποίημα που όποιος/α το διαβάζει, καταλαβαίνει και κάτι διαφορετικό, ανοίγει για λίγο το κλουβί της καρδιάς του για να μπει μέσα ένα σπουργίτι με ψυχή χελιδονιού και ομορφιά παγωνιού σε έναν κόσμο όπου μόνο τα κοράκια ακούγονται και μόνο οι κίσσες εκτιμώνται.

I forgot to remember you tonight.

Memories are demons in shiny camouflage.

My heart is full of ink.

My blood is ink, my thoughts are made of ink.

The ink of which i used to dive my pen into.

So i could wrote about how much i loved you.

My pen is dried out and i'm all out of ink.

All i can give you is a blessing.

A blessing so you will meet someday someone else.

Someone who will love you a shred of how i did.

My bliss is also a curse in disguise.

Αργή κίνηση.

Κανένας δεν βιάζεται.

Ήσυχη βραδιά.

Your memory haunts my dreams.

Your voice reflects my sorrow.

Your face reminds me of hazy days.

No misty clouds can hide you.

No rainbows can distract me.

You encapsulate my birth.

You accompany my death.

My rebirth is a matter of emotions.

My agony lies beneath your last goodbye.

Once upon a time, there was a tree.

The water made it grow, the sun made it flourish.

But then one day, no more water other than teardrops.

And no more sun other than hell's fire.

Teardrops and lava is a monstrous equilibrium.

I'm not a wise man but i know this; trees supposed to be green, not gray like ashes.

What doesn't kill you, doesn't make you stronger; Nietzsche was so wrong.

It makes you suffer for what it took away from your soul.

It brings melancholy upon your doorstep.

It makes the abyss look like an old friend.

My path towards the light.

My shortcut through the shadows.

I'm an ordinary hero.

I'm an mediocre perfectionist.

Nothing scares me more than my own feelings.

I'm familiar with my darkness.

And my shadow is my companion.

Where i come from, people smile for no reason at all.

I'm an illusionist of my own life.

My fairytales keep my dreams warm.

My imagination is my compass.

I turn around and look in my reflection in the mirror.

I stare into the abyss.

Nothingness is just everything combined.

Chaos is just an alternative way of existence.

My tears and my whispers are like rain and thunders.

No one will ever look me from my own point of view.

The tranquility of solitude is a loud curse for the homeless king.

We are citizens of nameless cities and sons of orphans.

My identity requires no DNA.

My shadow can tell you all about me.

I often find myself listening to the ancient prophecies of days to come.

The dusty wind is a great storyteller and the rusty old clock is mesmerizing.

My shadow is exquisite.

A fragile monster with black roses instead of hands and crows instead of feet.

There are no thorns in the delicate shadow of mine except one: me.

Yesterday, i went to the dream store.

I asked about you.

The salesperson smiled in a mysterious way.

"Why do you keep coming in here?" he asked me.

"Because i still have hope and i still have my soul to offer in return for one special day".

He told be that there was a special offer in dragons, a discount in witches and a bargain in unicorns.

My sarcastic grin was enough.

He understood my deeper intentions, my unearthly desires.

"A soul for a day, a special day with your most special, beloved person, 24 hours living the best day of your past" , i kindly reminded him the one and only offer i was interested in purchasing.

"We are all out of miracles today" he sadly informed me, with a grief tone in his voice.

"It's ok" i replied. "I'm used to it".

Maybe tomorrow or the day after.

The dream store is open every day of the year, every year of the century.

A glowing bubble aimlessly drifted in the sky and i kept on wondering, why everything seems random and yet wonderful at the same time?

Maybe tomorrow i will have an answer in this.

Βελούδινη μοναξιά.

Η μονοτονία πλησιάζει απειλητικά.

Τα μάτια σου κοράκια.

Στον καθρέφτη αρνητικό φωτογραφίας.

Η αλμύρα του μυαλού, σε θάλασσες κρυφές αρμενίζει.

Η αισιοδοξία συρρικνώθηκε, μαράζωσε, αποδήμησε.

Ευχάριστη θλίψη της αποδοχής της επανάληψης.

Όλα καταλήγουν κάπου ή όλα καταλήγουν στο πουθενά; 

Το ενδιάμεσο με φοβίζει, οι σκιές ανάμεσα στις ηλιαχτίδες.

Ευχάριστες καμπάνες θα ηχήσουν αναγγέλοντας γάμους και βαφτήσια.

Δυσάρεστες καμπάνες θα ηχήσουν αναγγέλοντας θανάτους και κηδείες.

Το δικό μου καμπανάκι είναι στο αθόρυβο, κάθε μέρα γεννιέμαι και πεθαίνω.

I'm not a cynic but i despite norms.

I'm not a mathematician but in dream about possibilities.

I'm not a philosopher but i'm addicted to existential dread.

I'm not an Absurdist but i laugh with people who take life too seriously.

I'm not an Anarchist but my imagination is borderless.

I'm not a poet but i feel awe for the little things that everyone passes by with apathy.

I'm not a actor but i often find myself quoting phrases and mottos by dead, long-forgotten people.

I'm not confident but i make great sandwiches with ham and cheese.

I'm not a sinner but i never been to church.

I'm not a lier but honesty is a brutal virtue that few people  can withstand.

I'm not a romantic, but i shed a tear every time i observe the night sky and the nocturnal beauty.

I'm not brave, but i will never surrender to whoever wants to enslave me by putting my colourful thoughts into a grey book of "must's" and "do's". 

I'm not rich but i'd happily exchange my feelings for money to feed the homeless.

I'm not an artist, but i can draw smiley faces in the shore that will make random pedestrians happy.

I'm not strong, but i can open that strawberry jam jar if you are in need of my assistance.

I'm not wise, but i'm a humble student of life's tough lessons.

I'm no one, i'm nothing, i'm from nowhere.

A constant traveller wandering to an unknown but miraculous adventure.

And that's my gypsy soul.

It doesn't belong to me though.

It's a traveller's soul; it belongs to the world.

Ο Βασιλιάς άγγιξε το σκήπτρο του, το τηλεκοντρόλ.

Είχε βαρεθεί την ίδια γκρίζα θέα από το παράθυρο που έβλεπε στην Αυλή του.

Σοβαροί παλιάτσοι με κοστούμια δεν τον συγκινούσαν πλέον.

Ψυχή χελιδονιού σε αγαλματένιο σώμα.

"Τι τα θες" απάντησε στις σκέψεις του.

"Στο ίδιο έργο όλοι είμαστε θεατές, είτε κάθεσαι στον εξώστη είτε στέκεσαι όρθιος σε κάποια γωνία".

Τα 40 τ.μ. δεν χωρούσαν όνειρα για ιππότες και δράκους.

Η σκιά του τον βάραινε, ο θρόνος-πολυθρόνα μούδιαζε το Είναι του.

Ο Βασιλιάς δεν ένιωθε πλέον Βασιλιάς.

Ρόλοι μπερδεμένοι, Βασίλειο ατομικής συσκευασίας μέσα σε μία γυάλα.

Ο Βασιλιάς ήταν ένας ζητιάνος στο Βασίλειο που εκτείνονταν πέρα από τα 40 τ.μ. .

Εκούσιες ψευδαισθήσεις, αυτοδημιούργητες οπτασίες στον μηχανισμό επιβίωσης που πυροδοτούνταν από την Φαντασία.

Ο Βασιλιάς σφάλισε τα μάτια του και δεν τα άνοιξε ποτέ ξανά.

Το τωρινό του Βασίλειο δεν χωράει σε 40 τ.μ. .

Ανέβηκε καβάλα σε έναν δράκο και δεν κατέβηκε ποτέ.

Ο Βασιλιάς ελευθερώθηκε από τα βασιλικά δεσμά.

Νέος Βασιλιάς μετακόκισε στην Αυλή 2 μήνες μετά τον θάνατο του προηγούμενου.

Η Αυλή των περιορισμών πάντα θα στοιχειώνει τον Βασιλιά της.

I feel butterflies inside of me.

They are trying to break free.

I can't hold them any more.

My chest is about to explode.

My thoughts can't keep quiet.

I tell you to shut up but i don't mean it.

I just can't believe i have you.

I don't know if i deserve you.

Your love seems like a simulation.

I feel numb inside of your wings.

I feel weak, i worry all the time.

What if something happens to you?

Why if my butterflies turn into bats?

What if i will forget the words?

The words that express my devotion.

What if i confuse the letters?

Time will turn songs into mumble.

I'm not 30 years old.

I just been born.

I will never become 40 years old.

I will never become 50, 60 or 70.

Every time you smile to me?

Every time you talk to me?

Every time you kiss me?

That's my new rebirth.

Butterflies full of hours, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

I'm beyond time.

You are beyond time.

My butterflies have no memory.

My butterflies are eternal.

My butterflies lift me up from this world.

My butterflies take me far away, to the great Beyond.

Beyond hate, beyond misery, beyond suffering.

Let us escape together.

Just for tonight, just for tommorow, just for forever.

Two bodies, sharing one breath.

Your hands are trees with deep roots under my heart.

Two oceans recycling the same water.

Your lips are blowing my fears away.

Two whispers about eternity.

I feel awe for your existence.

Being alive is my privilege.

Being free is my ambition.

Your touch is a cosy blanket for my winter soul.

Your words are lullabies for my dreamless nights.

Two lovers in one body.

Twin flames in a dark masquerade.

Your shape drawns my own.

Your spirit defines my purpose.

My life is rainy and you are my sun.

Rainbows shine for us.

Thunders won't scare us no more.

Ruby in your blood, gold in your hair.

Pearls in your smile, sapphires in your eyes.

I'm the dragon who will guard you.

I'm the poet who will admire you.

I'm the knight who will fight for you.

I'm the king who will obey to you.

Can i kiss you once again?

Cigarette burns inside of me.

Companionship of solitude.

I dare to shout my name.

The wind's echo answers back.

I'm not a fearless knight any more.

No dragons left to fight, only myself.

I'm chasing butterflies in vivid dreams.

I'm singing lullabies to orphans.

Homeless dogs follow me around.

My thoughts manifest my path.

No one enters in my mind's temple.

No one will find peace by praying.

Empty streets, shiny skycrapers .

There used to be something in here.

Mannequins of dusty stores stare at me.

I wonder if they can see the deep scars.

I wonder if they can understand the pain.

There used to be life in these places.

But now everything seems familiar.

Cigarette burns are surrounding me.

I'm slowly becoming one myself.

Ατίθασες άυλες, φευγαλέες ψυχές,

Εγκλωβισμένες σε ευδιάκριτα πλαίσια,

Υπνοβάτες του Απείρου έξω από τιμές,

Πάνω σε τσιμεντένια κοινωνιά απαίσια.

Είμαστε ένα εσύ και εγώ,

Καταραμένοι επιβάτες στοιχειωμένου τρένου,

Θα μείνουμε αγκαλιασμένοι εδώ,

Θαλπωρή δρόμου μισοφωτισμένου.

Πολύχρωμες σκιές,

Η μία συμπληρώνει το φως της άλλης,

Φινέτσα από άλλες εποχές,

Φωτογραφία την μαγεία δε γίνεται να βγάλεις.