In this world,
full of puzzle pieces,
with different kinds of colors,
I will find out,
what kind of piece I want to be,
with what color,
I will paint this world,
with the color I will be
I will find,
my place in this world,
in this colorful mosaic.

I am worth it,
I am enough,
My Feelings are valid,
My Emotions may exist,
This Body and mind,
they are lovely

A bunch of souls,
together or alone,
they define life,
in their own way,
they talk,
they listen,
they draw,
these souls,
they create culture

the hurry is gone,
the silence arrives,
the sun goes to sleep,
the moon wakes up,
the stars are coming out,
Streetlights fill the darkness,
Time stands still,
the night is here.

my thoughts settle like clouds on my head,
They come and go, they are carried by my feelings,
they are a whirling construct without form or matter,
I sink into this fulfilling daydream of clouds.

I want to be the brightest star in your sky,
sprinkle stardust over your world,
Let me be your pathfinder,
Let's be moon and earth

We all leave traces in this world,
we are nomads, in an infinite universe,
always in search of something fulfilling for us,
when we stop we are scared,
We are scared that our traces are meaningless,
but we forget that standing still also leaves traces,
The number of traces left behind is not important,
It is only important that we bring a purpose to our world through our traces.

We water the seeds in our heads,
So that the flowers can grow there,
Because we love the beauty of blooming,
Sometimes we love beauty so much that we tear one from our garden and give it to someone important to us,
Some put them in water and nurture them gently,
Others throw them away or let them wither,
Some also give a flower in return,
Others do not return a flower,
It can be one of the greatest proofs of love,
But it can also be one of the most painful experiences,

We all play a certain type of chess,
In this game, winners and losers are meaningless,
Rather, we play against ourselves. Against our emotions, thoughts and experiences,
On an infinite chessboard, the poets' pieces move one step further with every poem,
There is no completion in this game, the infinite chessboard continues to expand at breakneck speed. So fast that the playing pieces sink into infinity. We only change the color, the appearance, the type of chessboard,
So that we are no longer aware of the melancholy infinity, we hope that the poetry, the poems that we write will increasingly overgrow the playing field,
So that in the end we can say to ourselves: “Victory in The Great Game of Poets and Lyricists, is the acceptance, the recognition of infinity.

Their pencils glide across the unfinished canvas, my fingers tap on the keyboard and fill the white void on the screen.

They search for the right colors, while I search for the right words. Meanwhile, you change pencils as I rearrange the themes.

The commonality that unites us is creating, observing, ultimately cherishing the moments that the souls around us experience.

Each creation is unique, in its form, as it happens. None like the other, once it happens, it will not happen a second time.

When you are down, I will be your dopamine,
If you are disoriented, I will be your compass,
When you feel like you are drowning, I will be your lifeline,
When you think you have no stability, I will be your pillar,
When you are cold, I will be your warmth,
When you need someone to talk to, I will be your listener,
If you need a place to retreat to, I will be your SafeSpace,
No matter what you need or want, I will be that for you.

We have to realise that we can’t stop changes in our life.
Because every decision and the decision of not changing things, changes our life.
We have to admit, that we can’t stop changes, but we can direct them into the direction we want them.

We can’t work against storm, but to work with it.
We can’t change the wind, but we can change the turn of our sails.
It is the changes who makes us bloom.
It is the changes which are the reason why we are human beings.

Its strange. My thoughts, my emotions, my feelings. They are a construct, I don’t even know,

The music I love listening to, into the books I enjoy sinking into, the poems i adore to fill with words and sentences are so versatile that they are all contradictory in themselves,

They are neither special, unique or profound. They are simply a manifestation of what I feel inside, how I think things, how I perceive my emotions.

They should not be praised or appreciated, otherwise you allow them infinity, you allow them to remain eternal,

Curiosity spreads through me. It makes things accessible, but above all understandable. It puts you in a position to see things from a different perspective,

I believe that when you are severely depressed and have a borderline personality disorder, perspective is the most important tool you have. It allows you to perceive the shape, every angle, every detail, to recognize how it differs from all the other shapes, details, angles,

So what is curiosity for me? It is the curiosity to be curious. You can't be curious if curiosity is unknown to you.

My head is like jungle,
rooted with feelings and emotions,
this rooted jungle of thoughts slows me down,
blocks my way to the beautiful thoughts and feelings,
where can i find the beauty for things in this chaos,
my compass is faulty, a compass without a signpost,
will I ever find a way out of this labyrinth,
Where is the flowering meadow in all of this,
When can I enter a new orbit,
An orbit filled with positives,
When will the sun shine again in my universe,
When will it all end.

Between euphoria and pain,


Somewhere between joy and helplessness,


Deciding between staying here and leaving,


thoughts between melancholy and inner peace,


Between being overwhelmed and dissociating,


Between a carousel of thoughts and inner emptiness,


Between ribs and supercut,


Being in between again and again...

The noises of coffee cups and sips,

The sound of talking and gestures,

the body impressions and emotions of the people are drawing into the room,

The smell of perfumes climbing up the nose,

The smell of fresh coffee fulfilling the room,

They both interacting as a duet,

People inhaling the letters and words of the books they reading,

They are capturing the songs they listen to,

People letting their ideas flow into their laptops,

This place is special and for me the peak of being a human,

The variety is the reason why we are human beings,

Everyone defines in their own way why they are human beings.

Daydreaming and Dissociating

Dissociation is a way of transcending one's own boundaries,

A feeling of weightlessness, of drifting in the viscosity of thoughts,

Daydreaming as a kind of state without space and time,

Lost in a Penrose triangle of emotions or feelings,

Nothing endures there, at the same time everything is there,

Like a library where the books only have empty pages,

A concert without music, without sounds, without lutes,

A meadow where no flowers grow or where flowers will never bloom,

A journey without a destination,

The body and mind reorganise, they change and adapt,

In essence, dissociating is a kind of daydreaming, only much less pleasant,

Daydreaming and dissociating fight for supremacy in me every day.