On friction

The sound of pencil on paper is a hiss, and everything I write is a whisper.

— e.lisitsa

On shouts

I don’t know peace
and it’s the best
because almost everyday
in some strange way
I got this shouting
inside my chest

— e.lisitsa

On the sand

The sand was gone from my hands, taken away by the breeze. And in the end those were my thoughts, the wind was the time, and I hope that on this endless beach my grains find yours somehow.

— e.lisitsa

On the time

It seems like yesterday when you said me tomorrow.
Then today, just like that, the time comes and stops.

— e.lisitsa

I, worried about seven sins
you come and show me the times tables.

On sins
On marks

A world with more question marks
without the need to exclaim
where even the suspension points are heard…

— e.lisitsa

On toasts

A toast, a toast!
To all the times
they crumpled us and threw us away
just because

they didn’t have the patience 

to fold us right.

— e.lisitsa

Come, come! - Wattpad

This story begins with salty tears and the splash in my face from angry waves. There, I said it. There was my home.

Salt and sand.

Blue and yellow.

Back in my gray mind I can’t think of a time without that fine warm breeze. The thing is - and only this - that was my home.

There, I said it - again.

Can I go back? To fine grains of sand or the salty tears? There I go, my mind wanders.


On ghosts

You said the problem was me, you said it.
I was so mad I came back to haunt you.
Yes, it wasn’t me.
Your heart had so many ghosts that there was no room where I could fit.

— e.lisitsa

Thing is the tatto on your skin is the same, even if you changed so much under it.

On skins


Theme Urban v3 by Max Davis