My braids after about 10 weeks of wearing them.

The machinery works slowly, weary of its ways, worn over the years. The doom machinery is hungry. It needs fuel, it needs to be fed. It runs on vile things, on everything this world is. It runs slow for now, but you are steadily feeding it, cogs are rattling faster now, stomping, beating, moving. It rises to its song, cheerful, but terrible to hear, it has been fed, the machinery rises and works its way inside, inside our fates again. Cold and glassy stares on the street, ignorant of the monstrous machinery they carry on and on and on, they can’t see the monstrosity they created. And we - with our eyes full of madness - we must see and we must watch and we cannot act. Bound by our all-encompassing fear, unable to stand up to the machinery, there are only silent, internal screams, the cries of despair at night, the vortex of insanity tugging at our minds, slowly dragging us down. And will someone stan...

Cold morning air tugging at the rims of my eyes as I look up into the empty streets. Cold is encircling me, my body feels twisted, turned inside out, like travelling to another reality. Oh, how I wish my brain was nestled against the crook of your neck, containing the endless throbbing, so I can let my eyelids drop without fear. But the crystals of air are cutting into my skin as I ascend to spend another day in dullness.

Your eyes are the moon, haunting. Waxing and waning, roaming the earth mercilessly. What did you see? What turned your skin blue, what made your lips quiver? Where is the time that was trapped between your toes? Your hands cut into my soul. Where is this salvation coming from? No trace of human life - overrated. The worms are feeding on your brain, but they'll never get to your mind. This cold and restless mind, racing infinitely, emanating strange and cruel dreams, nightmarish, like the stare in your eyes. Don't you ever sleep anymore?

Stars are in her eyes, her hair is a piece of the universe, intricate geometry leading down to her slender face, leading you to her full golden lips... Lips only kissed by the sun, her hair only touched by the night, she is eternal. Eternal girl with streams of life running out of her constellation eyes.

Let the music trickle down your intricate skin, beautiful child, as the heat of night blows over it. Lay down your hopes by our feet, darling one, and we will savor them for ourselves. Let us drink from you, honey and milk, the golden promise of our lady, as we trance across the ancient world.

So, this is where I spent my Christmas in 2015 - Israel. Most of the pictures above are taken in Tel-Aviv. Israel is a beautiful place and I'd personally recommend travelling there.

Tensing, stretching on dirty sheets. Stuffy air and twilight of blinds shining on your body. Strong legs carry you as you strut shadows consuming you as your darkness begins. Come to me, flower in your hands, let me drink from you, let me have you all to myself.

The wind mourns a lost love, someone’s sweetheart from long ago. The wind doesn’t mourn me. Looking out into the dark night from my cold and lonely windowsill at 2 am. I wait for my soul to wander and meet the childish me and remind her of the darkness. Maybe she can be saved. The sea calls to me and yearns for me. A thousand miles away I can hear her wailing for me, waiting to drag me into her depths. I used to be a little child, I didn’t play with fire then, I didn’t burn myself. But I started running and I found the cage and the child in me has changed. I began to dream and to cut the branches of my dreams, to grow new ones until the forest fires came. Nights are lonely without stars. And my windowsill is so high up. If the clouds could catch me and carry me away to halcyon dimensions. And I love life and I hate life and the world is spinning so fast. In the dark and night I can hear them cry...