Ik wou dat de woorden kwamen
en ik zo mijn hoofd kon legen.
Een oneindige waterval aan woorden,
een eindeloze rij gedachten,
staan naast elkaar in de regen,
op eenander te wachten.

En terwijl mijn wereld in brand staat,
de bruggen reeds door het vuur verzwolgen,
met het as dat in mijn gezicht slaat
en de stroom gedachten die mij achtervolgen,
loop ik verder.
Niet wetende wat komen gaat..

To all these stones, alleys and streets
the memories of you do cling.
The touch of your hand
that I still feel in mine
makes my heart silently sing.
And the sweet scent of your skin,
still lingering in the air,
is playing playful tricks on my mind
as I hear a voice whisper;
“she was there”,
“she was there”...

She is the reason for the world behind your eyes,
that imaginary reality of your Elysian field.
The warmth of her smile,
the furtive soil of her thighs,
a whisp of her voice enough to make you yield.

These walls, so carefully erected,
crumble and fall where they stand,
to your core you are dissected
by a mere touch of her hand.

Yet, you do not shy away, on the contrary
you long for her, yearn for her heart
no matter how vulnerable and weary
it is better to die, than to be apart.

“Oh, my love! “Tread carefully on this soul,
or tear it to pieces if you were so to choose”.
“For you hold the entire world in your hands
and I, I don’t care what I might lose”.

The sound of a distant highway
a constant noise, but never the same
much like my thoughts, an endless stream
during the day and well into my dream
The only respite, during the last hours of the night
no longer the burden to carry

Until the next day

The river upstream turns ever thicker
until the water turns into a stream of mud
which in turn, turns into a stream of sludge
wade through it to find a stream of tar
All the while the stones cast from the banks afar
grow larger ever still