Nebula Inside Woman Head

My soul is covered with cold white fog enough…

... and I don't want anything else. Not the caress of desired love.

Even your voice on the phone and our conversations:

always nights long of arguments about music and books et setera.

I don't want to strive to be successful and the best, to receive admiration,

or to be a "good girl" to stick to the framework of social conventions.

I don't want a kaleidoscope of cities, train stations, airports and hotels.

I don't even want a window draft. My soul is torn apart by empty text messages as well,

empty, faded, unseeing eyes of your vis-à-vis former,

empty conversations and memorized phrases do not call anymore.

I don't want pity, nor love, nor regret, nor showers

I don't want New Year's with the venerable Santa Claus.

I want to take a break from the world. Turn off the phone. (c'est la vie)

Freeze under a satin blanket, holding in my  palms.scolding hot coffee

I want silence. Universal. Deafening. Burning. Fever.

And finally - loneliness.. Perhaps, there is nothing better!