In a pub

There is so much left to say –
Nothing in fact.

You wanted me to caress you.

3am. I am not sure I dreamt or was already awoke.
4am. I am now in touch with reality again.
I am just not sure whether it is my own existence or just a mere representation of a fantasy.

There was hope – a sense of something greater than could have ever been visible.
Then it all disappeared.
Only sourness has left.
Only distance.
Only unspoken words have remained.

A man can give anything and everything for a touch.
But we shall continue in-between bridges that never really connect two shores.

The way you looked at me..
After all the cheating that was done by the World on me.

After all despair and sleepless nights I had to go through.

After all skipped heartbeats at night.

After eternality was promised to both me and you.

After I asked for a 5 minute talk while standing in the middle of an empty and cold street.

After desperation became my way of doing things.

After it became clear that nothing will work.

After it was realised that LOVE is subjective.

After a pint was empty.

After Spring never really delivered and Summer ran away, and Autumn does not care.

After no music sounded like a sound anymore.

After there was you.

After there was us.

After it was all apart.

After my shoelaces got undone.

After I finally prayed for something divine.

After I admitted how wrong I am.

After it all started to make sense.

After fog became more welcome than clear skies.

After all of it – I found myself in disbelief that nothing superior is there.

After all I did – I am at the start.

Apparently, I was going in circles.

Apparently, it was all pointless.

Apparently, there is a mechanism in place.
A scheme for imposed order.

Undeniable patterns constantly emerge – not to broken by any of us.

Definitions became blurry
Values got revoked
Love is lost
Lovers are forbidden

After abiding by all rules possible

Not even a single provision yet
Not even your tears
Not even this
Have never made me stop wondering
Where have I been all this time?

What would have happened if all of this never took place?

What comes after two are separated?

Will they meet again since they are now travelling around the circle in opposite directions?

Will they clash then?

When they finally meet, will they hug each other or will they explode?

Will they become one or zero, or maybe two?

Will they smile to each other?

Will they finally manage sadness?

Will they be together?

After all of my doubts and questions
Disobeying paradigms

I am still alive in my metal thoughts.
And I still look at you.


On missing

Step by step

You are fading away

Step by step

You are making the way


Little by little

I start to forget your face

Little by little

I get used to it


Step by step

I thought it will be easy

Step by step

I became a fool


Little by little

It is just for our memories now

Little by little

I disintegrate together with all of it


To Z

Classic in style and classic in taste
Quick to feel but slow to judge
Benevolent as Solomon the Great
She is daughter of never ending river

Kind but warm
Well-behaved but common.
Loving but discrete
Simple but pure

She is looking at me from the above now
But on an equal footing
And even though particles of her violent grace to me were short-lived
They stayed with me until I grew up.




My name is Frank.

I think I just met you, right?

But does it matter in the end?


I just texted to my wife –

she said I am allowed to fuck you and I should leave you afterwards.

Well, trust was betrayed.


So now I am mad.

Deconstructing roses on my way.

Wearing unironed shirts

Claiming damages from You.

House I built for us.

oh, can I play with your hair? Your noodle hair.

My wife allowed me – I have no wife, so..

I went to have a haircut today – pardon me.

I just smashed my head into the door of our house – it is fine – I know the carpenter.




For what and why?



i will wait you keenly at the station, darling.



Frank Hammersith

To all cunts

I will now write about the Cunt.

As it is. The Cunt is You.

You are the Cunt.

I am disgusted by You.

You know no love.

You were born to be in your own void.

You are the Emperor of nothingness.

you are no one.

You are pathetic. Pathetic of pathos.

The love you receive is transformed by you into pity. Because you spoil everything precious.

That is how much cunt You are. Cockroach of the Castle.

You produce cuntness. It gets to me. I have no mercy for your elevated so called intellectual suicide.

You are just self-masturbating shit.

You are the Sea forever now.

Sea of the Cunt.

You are the perfect Cunt for me.

I want to cum from disgust. I will cum You Cunt. Pathetic cunt as my better world that was never a real world.

You act as a catalyst. The Cunt Brother. Perfect citizen of my City.

read the above out loud to me

feed me with your failure.



Frank Hammersith


Right now I am Frank

to be frank.

Frankly speaking

Who is Frank?


Pessimistic cunt that is frank allegedly.

In the name of Frank he writes – name he got through luck.

Frank is egoistic – it is a luxury to be frank – others must respond to frankness then.

Obviously Frank is not frank. Not at all.

He will be the same old Frank everyone used to know.

Frank. But Frank.

To be Frank. Rather not to be – unless you are in denial.

Frank Hammersith

Hangovered Brazilian Dream

That’s almost all I managed to write today..

A title.

But what does this title mean to me?

Surely something very different or nothing to you.

But it means everything to me. Does that mean then, that if it means to me, it also means to you, because THIS as a whole may mean to you? Even if it means nothing to you, it actually might mean something. Through your choice of understanding of meaning (means/does not mean) I understand how it means to me.

This means.

I cannot go anywhere close to what I mean. Personally. As a whole. Differently but importantly for everyone.

Brazilian dream is like American dream but just less optimistic in its scope of ambition. Actually, Brazilian dream is so real that it’s not even a dream anymore. It’s a reality (!), which might be a dream already, but we do not know that yet.

It’s Brazilian because it is a dream that is unknown.
It’s Brazilian because it is not explored type of dream.
Because each dream might be a reality already, just unrecognised, sitting there in a different form of what is in one’s perception about dreams.

Subjectivity is endless. So is the Amazon river, stretching through Brazil and Brazilian dreams. But Amazon actually has an end, while subjectivity doesn’t.

I hope that You all dream and will never stop to do so, whatever type of dreams those are.
Just don’t forget to enjoy the present.

To Dijana – for being a dream in all senses of this word.
To Ruta – for being a true friend and dreaming Brazilian dreams.
To Stelu – for being a true friend.
To David – for being a true friend.
To Hugo – for a massive contribution to my perception of Brazilian dreams from the Brazilian perspective. I will see you one day.
To Thomas Bogg – for being a true friend, never letting me to forget the subjectivity and always showing me a different perspective, inspiring and inviting me to this Circle. 
To everyone that I read here and who read me – thank you for being a part of this circle.
To everyone that I forgot to mention – I am hangovered.

Frank Hammersith


There was nothing to write about. The question is, why do I keep writing then?

Yes. But there is no other way, but to put thoughts on the paper, to give the inner-me some liquidity.
Give me credit.

But my wish is only imaginative now, the relativity I feel is immensely appropriate.

I live in the circle, but not in circles.

The streets I am walking, the laughter I hear..
Irreplaceable is obvious.
What does that suppose to mean?
That I want you to be absent.

Present, more likely.
Tonight is my night.
To be lived and to be skipped, hah..
You live and skip it too.

Give me my share
Entrust me the stock.
Provoke me to care.

Let’s go for a walk again
Down the Godollo street.
But let’s not make it until the end
Since I will have to write in vain again..