No flowers – a poem

.I fall away from my childhood, come home under a car,
under the traffic of the road.

I wish I was born a country girl,
but there are only cars in my childhood memories
and no flowers.


Journal – 2^ project

Journal, issue 1; I was.. Taken without being touched

I have the desire to show this starting to the idea this is my second project about the self. In the first one I was documenting a video (I put in YouTube in August this year) in which some girls and boys were recording themselves together with me to impress and express their personal vision of their life. This second project will be out as a published Journal of a number of issues, each copy sell from a price of 2€ each copy. It will explore the inner construction of a self, through diary updates, poems, art pieces, photographs and essays, all coming from my inner self. It will be loudly in a way just you and me could hear.

To buy a copy write to my personal email address !

the things that always happened to us

The pens dad gave us

I am attracted to the image of a child with a cigarette
to my everyday
through the objects more that how I am through the people
objects -that are those which always have happened to us
I am affected to the rotten fascination of our blankets,

its ugliness, a rock
in which I would always continue to put myself under

Do not bring me to no scenarios
without the rotten
and the gross that belongs even in the night



Don’t talk this up

There’s no glamour in this life
Your mothers face yells this loud
There’s no glamour in this life
Everyone should know
It’s sinking to the depths
On your own
There’s no glamour in this life
Only denial will keep you safe
But when that protection breaks
Down you will go
There’s no glamour in this life
And everyone should know
Head ache, heart ache
Body convulsions
There is no glamour in this life

-Allyson Wenhuda