moon, you brutal lover,
keeping all of my secrets
yet never sharing yours.

still, i find comfort when I'm with you;
my solitude and sorrow
merging with your soft light
slowly turning into one

show me yourself
i need you right now
i'm fading away

don't be shy,
you're the one
who knows who i am

because tonight
your company is my only medicine

pretty, pretty
what a pity;
they say it's pretty stupid,
but i got hit by Cupid

pretty silly,
and i like it, really

i want your presence
which floods me like waves on a stormy morning,
unforeseen and dangerous, swinging my base of life

can i steal a hug?
or a moment of your time?
just to tell you that
i see and seek your heart,
even for seconds,
if you could be mine...

if you'd turn your gaze to me,
hell, why won't you look at me?
hell, when did we grow apart?

i remember chasing each other
when the time wasn't right,
but will there ever come our time?

won't you look at me, look at me now?

if we can go back...
to how we used to be
before we
and i
fell
apart

hidden, hidden
riddle me a riddle
your nails so black
rest on your face
while you're looking away,
a wondering gaze

it's like i can almost hear your mind
struggling to figure out;
"four feet, one heart, no spines, a turning clock",
you try the taste of the words

it is where I'm taking you, and me

together

one heart,
I'll do it
in the name
of love

i could be the best actor
pretend i don't care

but it's all in vain
when you are not
looking at my stage

and in the dark
you long for your muse;
calling her name
needing her to inspire you

to embolden the blood in your veins
to embrace the void in your eyes

to flip your world around,

to fill your soul with love

you long for your muse.

soft cries
in your arms
silky layers
covering our secrets
murmuring words of
affection and love
let's be together,
your hand in mine
until the world is gone

I'm blooming.
This path, I've chosen it myself;
And though your footsteps are still fresh in my garden,
And I still see your siluette in the moonlight,
I shall not let the memories define me.

The grass once stomped, will recover.
Your shadows are slowly fading.
No more will I let your darkness grow in my heart.

I'm letting go, and I'm blooming.
The breeze relaxes me instead of sending shivers down my body,
Instead of reminding me of your cold winds, orbiting my neck.
Slowly pressuring it in the darkness.

Until the red sun rises, and the sounds of the darkness and solitude quiet down. Until the cherry blossom wakes up again. Until my rotten flowers die and they get replaced by new ones.

Until then, I'll be waiting.

I'll be waiting,

Until I bloom.

There was no place like your eyes

A pool-depth full of lies

my hands
are turning cold and dull
you're becoming blurry
my thoughts, I cannot follow
the sky is our limit, made to be surpassed

finally I'm fading,
for years I've been waiting

Your dazzling light
Was all I saw,
All I remember.

The image is burning
In my mind everyday,
Stamped by your words
In my canvas of misery.

And so, at last,
Hell's flame you left in me
Will never leave my head
The way you left me.

I'm feeling
Like an empty shell
But the core
Of nothingness
Is made out of
Pure sorrow

Empty
Is that the word?
It doesn't describe me
Hell, nothing does...
So I'll just
Keep doing
What I know best;

It's pretending
That I'm normal, even though
I am well aware that I'm not
And I was never near being normal
And I cannot be described by normal words

Empty...
Nostalgic. Melancholic. Sad. Depressed. Abyss. Apathy. Darkness.
Pretending to be
All that I'm not.
But, I don't know, what am I?

Empty...
Empty words can describe me.
But I cannot choose them myself;
If I could, what would I choose?
Maybe...
Dead?

I'm tired.
Exhausted.
Empty, inside.
Dead, inside.
Unable to be
The real me.

And it's wearing me down.
Every time I disappoint you.
Every time I'm empty.
Every time I'm not what I should be.
When I'm not enough.
And when I'm too much.

Empty words, empty head, empty promises, empty purpose, empty meaning, empty feelings.
Is that what you bring me down to?
Is that how you see me?
Empty, of humanity?

The words are echoing in my ears.
Empty.
That's the room I sit in.
That's the life I lead.
Maybe that's me.
Perhaps it is, when you don't see what I see.

Empty.
Happy, joyful, worryless.
Perfect, pretty, shallow.
Skillful, amazing, badass.
Crazy, mad, fun, reckless.
...but empty.

It's a mark you've made.
Are you happy?
That I'm empty?
That I'm turning into you?
Are you empty?
But am I?

A lot of people see me differently,
Like I just wrote.
Each line for one me.
Wait, I write?
Why didn't you write it down?
Because I had to write, EMPTY, twice?

So are you looking
At this empty moon tonight?
Are you staring at the starless sky?
Are you partying in your empty house?
Are you crying, in your room, or in  your empty soul?

Have you been feeling empty recently?
Is it contagious?
Do you feel sorry?
Did you mean everything you told me?
Did this world mean to hurt me?

Am I empty?
Is the world empty?
What's my empty purpose?
Is it to be empty?
Is it to be me,
Or is it to be you?

pain
changes us
and pain
must exist
or you'll feel
like you've never
lived

i had learnt that
a "today" has to be blurry,
filled with gray clouds, and painful,
so that your "tomorrow" can be bright;
happy, without worries,
full of hope and delight,
but
every day is "today"
and "tomorrow"
is always out of touch, out of reach,
painfully untouchable
because tomorrow is always
the next day, postponed,
as every joy turns into dark,
as every tomorrow becomes
a today.

it's no wonder
you can't fall asleep,
when your tears
are ornamenting
your silky sheets

he told me i
can't have this
wounds patched up, i
can't heal
the only way to
close the
wound, is to
break
completely

so i
Broke
but i
am still
alive
help me
break
and let me
bleed out
in the dead
silence
of
night

the night was starless
your face blank
and your eyes like
the galaxy was alit

a dangerous mix of colours
the most attractive danger
i have ever seen

it was beautiful, like you;
the sight of your golden hair
being tingled by the wind
while you were leaving

and you left me,
you left me
aflame

is weeny people
having thoughts that
are immense, vast, oversized for their age
for their teeny, picayune bodies

but that isn't the problem

it's the elders not acknowledging them nor their thoughts
it's their need for self destruction  
it's anxiety, depression, Weltschmerz all over again

it's not being enough
but feeling
way too
much

The eclipse lasts shortly,
And the moon shines
Merely because of the Sun's rays.
The moon may be gorgeous,
But everything it got
Was a gift from Sun.
Without it's gold spreading across the sky,
The moon is invisible.

That's why a Moon
Could never compete with a Sun.

I see a silver glint
on your wrist, the
blood merely falling
off your lips

dropping a drop,
  one, two,
falling at the floor,
   three, four,
your eyes gazing at mine,
   five, six,
-do you still hate me,
      ...even now?-

when you opened
your skin
a trail of
quicksilver ran
and I heard the sound;

  seven, eight,
your brown, golden and green eyes,
  nine, ten,
I don't feel very
real, right now


   nine, eight
you once were happy
   seven, six
could we go back in time?
    five, four,
you put the blade back down
    three, two,
I love you as much as I do now,

   one; I am still alive.

another day has passed.
a day closer to the black sky.
and you read poetry today.
you read a book today.
But, what trace have you left on this planet, today?

Who will acknowledge it? Will you be misunderstood? Will a young boy with curly brown hair and silver eyes weep over your words for a hundred years, while listening to our now vintage songs?

Will anyone remember you? Will you matter, after the Earth makes hundreds of thousands of spins around the Sun, which perhaps is circling around something bigger? Will you reincarnate? Will you be alive? Will you just disappear, or will you stick around?

Is there hope for humanity, is there hope for immortality? Will they enable people to live forever, to find a way to break nature, a year after you die? Will people still follow the same traditions, as they do today, will families have lunch together like their ancestors used to have?

Will there be depressed children, stressing and crying and cutting themselves because nobody would believe when they say "It's too much"? Will people still be stuck in the circle of melancholy and nostalgy, held captured by the never-ending routine when the first thing they do in the morning is ask themselves " Is this worth it? Do I really have to go to work? Perhaps I should end this, maybe it'll be easier then?"

Will people still break under their masks that they hold with trembling hands, grasping the clay so hard that their nails break and their fingers bleed, just so their kids couldn't discern what's underneath it?

Will everything stay the same and nothing improve? Will there be a catastrophy and expunge you, the one writing this, the gorgeous stranger you met on the street on a cold winter evening five years ago? Will it also wipe out your elementary school teacher, wipe out the florist from who you bought that flower for your first love and a rose for your mother?

Will people change, mentally and physically evolve along with our brains? Will the names we have to learn by heart - Darwin, Watt, Dante, Boccaccio and Einstein become irrelevant comparing to the inventions that are yet to come? Will somebody prove they were wrong, will somebody speak badly of them? Will someone still adore Dante's Heaven and Hell as much as I do? Will people analyse poetry the way I do? Will anyone ever feel the way you do?
Will anyone ever make a decision like you did, will anyone look up to you?

Is there a reason to be stressed and depressed, when all of this won't last? Is there a point in searching for the meaning of life rather than picking a reason to live that satisfies you both mentally, emotionally and physically?

Will people have passion and hate and freedom of expression, will they be bold or will they become faded? Lost? Encouraged or enraged?

Well you'll never know.

And that's hard to grasp.

and you feel so lonesome
you're always cold
want to, but can't go bold
you don't feel so awesome

your nails grip your tights
and you hurt yourself, so it will hurt less
can't handle all of this stress
can't seem to find the lights

and each and every day it hurts more and more
you lock it in yourself, the pain,
but you know you can never sustain
all the sore and the gore

put the headphones in your ears
screaming louder, the words of the song
but you know the song wasn't as long
it's a way to let out all of your tears

and every day you say you're fine
and each morning you wake up tired
but a trigger in your head had already fired,
nobody understood, it was a sign

and all of your colour has been drained,
nothing makes you wish you were awake,
and every day, all over again, you break:
but your ****** expressions have been well trained

so don't tell me I'm alright
don't tell me there's hope for humanity
this - all - is insanity;
don't tell me the world is a pleasant sight

and don't convince me otherwise;
everyone has their own meaning to life,
even if it's their own ******* knife,
or if they choose to rise


and I don't have a **** note

for you or your friends

because the world's posioned and everyday, for someone, it ends

....and nobody has the antidote

He stood on the hill with his cap turned backwards,
And it made no logic at all
Since the sun was hitting his eyes, but he didn't seem to care
For the orange line, over his face

And yet, when I approached closer
He seemed further away, and the galaxy was spreading across his face
It looked like a magnificent burn
Which he got
From dreaming
Too much

The sun turned black and the boy was no more.
Now, the only thing I could see in front of me was a shade...
Not like I could describe it, since it was a shade of fear seen from my eyes.
I wasn't looking with my eyes, yet with my soul alone.

A discovery far more greater than what I've known my whole life.

So I, naturally, search for Hope and Dreams
My Ideals, too
Yet
I only found Illusions
Lying broken on the crimson floor
As the Life and Thought beat it up

But then a darkness far greater than all of the others came.
Really, it can't be seen with your eyes, so you need to look with your soul.
Blacker than the venta black.
Just a deathly black.

It was Him, for sure. Not Him as the God, but the one who takes your hand at the end of your suffering.
And so, Illusion's hand was taken
While Life and Thoughts spit on the ground and disappeared,

Death embraced me and him.

It was far more comfortable than I'd thought it would be;
An indisputable peace found only within your heart.
It's an irony, but it shine so bright
With it's darkness
That we both knew we were finally safe.

And the boy?
Oh, well he sat on the ground.
Took a sip of time
Like he always does, from time to time.

He looked at me, absorbing
All of my questions
Changing his form to however I
Had imagined him at that moment

And just when I thought I had caught up with him, he'd transform yet again.

Then it hit me.
He was Illusions himself;
And just when I wanted to
Embrace him and make him confirm,

Just like Hopes, Dreams, and
All of my Ideals...

He broke at that moment.

And all I'm left with
Is this blinding darkness
Sparkling with it's sweet venom;

I realise life is more and less that I had ever guessed.

Illusions are not to be trusted.

Because Illusions always break.