Bashing the walls never saved her,
she never got out and I got used
to the screaming.

The room, opposite of frigid, steaming.
It abused insiders, visitors and people seeming
touched, by the history it carried.

It buries more than most can handle.
But a place does not feel pity,
you can not blame the city.

The pressure of a chance at being blind after
makes the ability of dreaming so
much dafter.

Rejected, if not misunderstood,
these girls do me no good,
in groups in pairs, no one cares,
they're pretty, that's enough.

Relatively speaking, the floors
are squeaking in this house of
lies. She stands so close to me,
she's looking, I cannot respond

She seemed not very fond of
who I was and what I said, but
signals are mixed and misinterpreted

by both, or not, it is the fact not knowing
that ruins this situation, overshadowing.

Imaginary affection, illusionary connection.
I am lost in the worst of more than one section,
my cloud is separated from my ozon layer
and the longer I wait the farther and stayer.

Explanations are immortal to those who stare,
entranced and smoothly picked from the bunch.
What would your answer be if I asked you out for lunch?
I'd like to know before I ask for real, seems fair?

Comparing to analogous past situations, habits
and negations, what did I do wrong? I read,
people, all around me, examining to grab it's
full potential. Sometimes it hurts, once it led

to girls who fled, feelings of regret, hardship bled by
the dead, spread, on the deficient bed of newly wed
sensations.

I sat there, for ages it seemed
waiting for my punishment to end,
to be redeemed.

My torturer is only doing the job
she was given. She tries to send
forgiveness to the angry mob.
In heart a word has risen.

You may leave this wooden prison
if you promise you'll never sob
again when your king hits
his queen or when she is abused.

But I refused.
Now here I sits.

The second chance to make
a first impression. After you fake
a heart attack, you dread
a real one, fearing what's been said.

The choice does not only cost
you time, to reconstruct, rebuild.
You can never make up for once fulfilled,
the other life, the time you lost.

Not all is random, but all else is.
The only thing you do control,
is the choice of which role
you play in what is bound to be.

After all it happens, in a loop, unending,
a spiral and you, your beliefs defending.

Potential left to waste
I don't want copy paste
I'll draw the lines myself
too bad I never learned,
not afraid to be concerned,
never have I been.

But when the bubble bursts,
the new one blown will never be the same.
I hate the players, not the game.

Ik heb mezelf met pijn moed
Ingeschreeuwd, in 't oor, gefluisterd.
Alsook wanneer de zon de maan verduistert.
Zo ken ik mijn bereik maar al te goed.

Beperkingen in grond en hitte,
Waar een steen zo gloeit
Dat men met moeite zitten
Kan en het gewas maar amper groeit

Ik heb een glas ingeschonken
Paars, rood, wit en sterke geur
Uit diens droogte word ik waterig

Over doorzichtige vormen zie ik haar lonken.
Op haar gezicht de tweede kleur.
Ik herinner me die avond. Al is het katerig.

This is my little sidestory, besides
I am a ******, a *****, one who
thinks he will be loved but rides
a train of lies. What can he do

but be himself, knowing he'll never
make top shelf, half of his days
he spends thinking of different ways
to change, to go on with enough pride.

Quit while I'm ahead, stop with all
my confidence and walk away, so clever,
without shame. Things never fall
so hard off the bottom shelf. He died

yesterday, made place for a better man,
the main story is more than just a plan.

He misses being in love
nothing else to think of,
******* in the ropes of affection,
he mops the lost perfection
of the girl he once adored.

Choosing a girl to love is like going to the store.
You're carrying 99 cents and all you need is just one apple
You search and search and there it is
This apple is perfect, no brown spots, perfect.

You take it to the cashier, she smiles and says:
'What a wonderful choice young man, that 'll be one dollar.'
You cringe, you thought this was the day.
The day you would return home with the perfect apple

Make sure you get enough money in time
Cause when a guy with 5 dollars swoops by
He might take your perfect apple along with 4 others

You run home, searching every corner and every spot
Nothing, return to the store, begging for that apple
'I'm sorry to say so but I sold that apple a second ago.'

He is an ugly man,
hard to
connect with.

he gets neglected,
or plain rejected,
he doesn't see
what really matters

He is a catcher, angry at batters.

A man to avoid, a man who is better,
he does not fulfill any need, hopeless by
greed and troubled by green.
The last day he was seen,
he carried a stone, to resemble his heart
when he fell apart.

Love is scary,
not like betting,
a lot less dreary
and in a nicer setting.

It still is frightening
because of chance,
to lose this enlightening
essence called romance.

Once you have it,
you won't need more,
just can't go without it,
you know you're hooked right to the very core.

It can be polished, hidden, in frames and cuts
and boxes with lots of shining glimmer,
seemingly untouchable.
A simple cold could make it all grow dimmer,
simmering through the stems,
the second you lose these nuts,
your uncut gems.

I wish we could make up some rules
together and break them. I would love
detention if you were here, but now
it's just your image, projected by my

overthinking mind. Being casual is how
it should be done, but I am not aware of
how I act. In fact I can't even tell by
descriptions told to help me. I'm school's

hopeless romantic, caught in a movie,
unknowing how to act. Everyone's got
their lines and signs and every move he
has to make. I don't even know the plot.

If anything goes wrong I'll just run away.
Then this is not my film and I don't have to stay.

Ik had die problemen al van voordien,
toen niemand ze kon zien,
ik ongestoord kon leven,
wandelend zonder vallen of beven.

Ik ben uw naam vergeten,
waar moet ik straks ook weer zijn?
Dat is altijd zo als ze leest, ze is maar tot haar
veertiende naar 't school geweest.
Ik heb dat nooit geweten.

Ik ben enkel rechts geschoren,
heb deze nacht wat ***** verloren,
ik heb pijn maar wil niet nog eens bellen
dan lijk ik het te slecht te stellen.

Mijn hoofd lijkt wel vertroebeld, gruis
gestrooid, verstrooid en elke dag bejubeld
terwijl ik mijn spieren voel verstijven.
*** lang moet ik nog blijven, wanneer mag ik naar huis?

Not shaken, endlessly, mistaken, dead.
In nature I am sly,
when thinking rather shy.
Decisions in less than a day,
like whether or not you're going to stay,
should all be made alone on roofs.

I am the one who goofs.
Now please don't run away.
I can also take the check and pay.
You think of saying bye,
your clock says time to go back to my
not taken, hopelessly, forsaken, bed.

He died today
years ago
I think I would
not have liked him

Just my own sense
of jealousy, wanting
some of his talent

People of his time
Are not just people
They shaped this world

just like they used to
shape fragile statues
of marble, letters of
simplicity, filled with so
much significance

I met you in the hallway
the other day
when you were cleaning.

I've been looking for a meaning,
a reason of some kind
an excuse to make you mind
my existence.

But we seldomly cross each other
and I am not used to the pressure
that comes with talking to
beings as pretty as you.

I can hear you play the first songs
he taught you whilst I write this letter.
Because I cannot bear it anymore.
I have to tell who made you sell
to stay alive.

I strive to lead a better life
to be a better husband to my wife.
As I buried the writings with their mates,
I cried.

My reasoning states
that I never lied.

Damaged goods, baggage lugging,
in desperate need of comfortable hugging,
every night, every time until she knows,
any way it goes, it will all be just right.

Socks mixed with pants and shirts everywhere,
she needed structure, someone to care
for her and her impeccable disorders,
with a mindset that borders
on pathologically obeying to any kind of order.

I tore myself away back then,
three years ago, when
all you had to do was say hello,
when all your wishes were granted,
movements were enchanted,
ideas implanted
in a dream, an idea,
never what it had to seem.

Gone you were so proud,
apart you were so happy,
when you chose, even more than when not,
it resided in knowing what you've got.

Down with the winds, down with all
covering blankets, take it all down.
I am hooked on things you frown
upon, carelessly, aware of the naked fall.

The fall is near, so very near, my eyes
were twinkling, godsent happiness and lies
mixed and all is good when he flies.
Strangely hidden, somewhere, he cries.

I believed and worried, remember that
it hurt. I believed and worried, recall
that I hurt. To be real, and love, is what
I mentioned, but I can only crawl.

Do you remember, do you recall, I plead,
begging to be your only, different, need.

Attention unclaimed, easily distracted,
along the way I may have contracted
some sort of disease, nothing to please
my set of emotions, set out to tease.

They say time heals everything, but
I'm concerned it doesn't, afraid to shut
my eyes, as it passes, someone loved
dies, next thing for them is to be shoved

into the hole of bitter forgiving and forgetting.
Time is only just a pain killer, not letting
pain control, still the actual disease keeps
spreading. Pain was killed and shoved into a hole.

When I remember all the loved ones, all
those parted ways, all who left before
their final days, I shut my eyes and stutter,
when will I fall, my blood be drained in gutter.

A contrast so subtle almost all
those in its circuit forget and get
lost. On each side a pulsating wall
and the floor is drenched and wet.

My best and oldest friend gave me
this book. My girl gave me a page
marker. My brother gave me a book-
case. My mom the ends, to support.

Who am I to judge and say and
realistically tell my hypocritical view,
point and vision. The tape holds this
poster on the walls with extra glue.

The moistness almost made it fall.
It will, sooner or later, your call.

Anticipatory sensations
ahead of preparations,
all I wanted was to feel secure.

It didn't matter with who
back then it had to be now.
It's one thing I will not redo.

I'm clean,
I hope you're too.
It was not my intention to be mean
and now I have my cure.

All I wanted was to feel secure.

His hand is steadily reaching out.
The bench is warm and seated,
one place winters power was depleted.
The hand has reached her mouth.

His finger slips on her upper lip.
Scarves become alive. Breath turns
vague. As if someone is trying to equip
them with knowledge. Their heart burns.

His mouth has arrived, his tongue
has followed. Cheek by cheek,
their love, so punctual and young.
Without thinking, no need to speak.

Her head, pulled away, her feet,
now cold, are facing another way.

Dankjewel voor alle zorgen,
de zekerheid op elke dag
een goeie goeiemorgen
en een welgemeende lach.

Ik zou een bloempje geven
of de lucht op laten klaren
maar jij schonk mij het leven,
dat kan ik niet evenaren.

Daarom dat ik je hier zal vieren
en zo jouw dag hoop te versieren.

For all the years I stayed alone,
and all the times I thought I'd fail.
For every day you kept me from derail,
I guess there is no need to tell you thanks..

You know we both need help,
helping eachother will lead us through.

We lost our purpose, filled with shame,
returning, horseless, to where we came
from, what I've heard, some mysteries
have fallen and words were broken down.

When she is around I feel like the clown
dating back from long ago, history's
ill remembered stories still told today.
I would make it all undone, if you say

so I will do so, all if it could change, strange
how during I was so proud and sure
but now I cry out loud looking for a cure.
Walking around, gazing upon the sky,

why did I have to act, with sorrow, is this my
best as possible? Because then I fear tomorrow.

Over twee dagen of een week,
ooit zal je weten wat je wilt.
Dan zal de zon nog steeds hetzelfde schijnen
maar het wolkendek verdwijnen
als de tranen van daarstraks.

Ik zal dan een kaarsje branden,
voor jouw vis, je kabel en je kat.
Nooit meer zal je vergeten
wat je toen
aan jezelf had.

Reeds de derde achter de rug
nog een vierde, doe maar vlug.
Alsof de tijd is opgeschoven,
teruggeschoven
en wederkeerde naar dezelfde momenten.

Waarom blijft een dier zich inprenten
als een beest, zuiders wild,
zelfs al heeft het nooit gemogen,
zelfs al is het nooit gewild,
radeloos maar opgetogen.

Doelen worden pas plezier
als ze bereikt worden.
Nadat we enkele maanden
heen en weer porden
en ons verliefd of verlangend waanden
keerden we terug naar de eigenlijke staat.

Elk van ons is en blijft niets meer,
keert weder, elke keer,
naar een staat in de natuur,
met meerdere deuren op een kier,
noem het zielig, noem het zuur,
we blijven niets meer dan een dier.

You smell of ***** and strong drinks,
I realise, disregarding what she thinks,
I'm in love with her, deeply, stronger
than those beverages. I've been longer

than I'd like to admit. She's wild and
untameable, uncontainably pretty, beaches
with filth and stones instead of sand
on sweaty summer visits. It teaches

me to carefully enjoy instead of rushing.
I can't refrain myself from blushing,
but standing ground on not kissing,

because your state is not as in my dreams,
I, longing, desiring, have to keep missing,
your lips, my inner obese man's regimes.

Move faster, keep moving, keep running
like time is, out. Out of all there was, stunning
how we doubt. I feel pain in my left foot
while the right one has no place to be put.

I'll count the days until it's over,
walk the miles in the stover
of the crops we used to grow.
By any means I have to get
back to some kind of flow.

I won't be the one to regret, it's this I'll let you know,
in a way you've helped me become a tad more slow.

Losing pieces, meeting long lost nieces
on the worst of family parties, lots of
family, much less party, I get drunk.

Meadows, long wet grass tickling my legs,
every single creature around here begs
for my inexhaustable attention, selfish.
The buzzing calls of nature soothe, me
not everyone.

I don't have to talk because it helps me,
I just want to talk to you, but I see
how it is.

My hands are tied, they say I lied,
my brains are fried, they say I cried
for help.

Piles of work, my desk is bustling,
while outside the leaves are rustling,
The seasons are mixed up, the world
is different, time has been hurled

right passed me, like I don't exist, at
least for some. I'm shaken in ways that
I did not foresee, I cannot flee, to me,
this is prison. Come and hear the sound

pounding, from underground, wanting
to be found. A daunting feeling, taunting
my decisions, working ahead, time misled

me once again. Can't you go in my stead?
If not my life will go too fast, slow me down,
I want to go but I am not ready to leave town.

On the edge of giving up,
rekindled, almost certain.
Grab a blanket, fill a cup,
put it on and close the curtain.

The marathon has started.

Piled up dust, dark shades,
lack of colours, thought fades.

Imagine living in a coast town
Every day you'd get to see
the endless sea
how insignificant you'd be.
A single wave could mean your end,
send you down,
never to return from the depths of its magnificent cold.

Imagine living there,
having nothing left to touch,
to feel with your fingers, your hands, to hold
but loose sand, slipping through, ever fleeting, as dust.
Playing the piano would turn into a must
to survive. One final grasp on the thinned out strings of life.
The steel and copper wires forging dying fires.

One last press yet no rebounding sound.

At least you'd be alone, crazy but the only mad one with grace
for miles around, as your knees sink into the ground.
As you stare at the waves, calling out your name.
As you realize to them life is just a game
and you are just a waste of space

You make my mouth leak.
My eyes sneak around to
catch a glimpse, a peek
of what you could make me do.

Looking at your picture,
my brain turns into a mixture
of fried and sizzling cells,
your face alone tells
me all I need to know.
Your words kept coming
and not one thing was wrong.

It could seem slow
but no matter how long
I already saw
you are a mess
underneath a fuzzy blanket
yet a lady in a dress.

These rhymes are simple,
arrangements easy.
They are us for now.
So I don't want to make rash
decisions, less well planned incisions
in this young and partial certainty.

Egoism kills, I read, when walking.
I continued, strolling ahead and talking
to myself. I assured me I was fine,
the problem 'egoism' wasn't mine.

At home, cozy, dropping kisses
to the missus
and the kids, amidst I stopped, I questioned
myself
and told them I had come up with a plan.
Do if you're strong and respect those who
do whatever they can

to spread the charisma of care-ism, a
way to think of the others and ****
egoism.

Isn't it so that love was in it's prime
25 years ago. When you met someone
it was different, better, more special.
I can't stop thinking about when I play
a game, I feel the need to have done
every single thing, to have seen every
single ending. Life is nothing like that,
no redo's, sidepaths or bossfights.
Well, maybe some bossfights.

I need this, I must have it right,
it has to work, it has to be, as planned.
Guidelines, steps and plans have died.
The dreams I had were canned.
Sold for a place in society's race.

I'd have to run to turn out first,
I'd have to finish to quench my thirst.
All I'd win would not be worth any more
than the dreams I had before.

I'm not sure which one of us is native
to this country we are trying to found.
But we just can't understand eachothers
words, even signs are easy to misinterpret.

Linked but not knowing, just guessing,
looking forward to caressing, blessing,
every way that helps us find the other
half. Our plans, needless to say, creative,

aren't working for a single bit, but you
don't seem to care, then why should I?
Looking back to those days I had to count
every single second, waiting for reply.

Fire the interpreter, we have no further need of
him, we'll just make up our own ways of tongue.

I want to read your mind
at all time, everywhere.
When you're doing your hair
I want to know, what you find
the message of this day.
And if I may I would add my thoughts,
let our thinkings sink in one.
Sea and sand, hand in hand,
eachothers guides, common
travelling lights.

But I can only guess and I
don't know how to make something like that
emerge.

Asleep they slither through these streets
as sheep they seem to sleep when their sneaky
snaking threat retreats.

Useless in a way, like ants yet not per se.
Souls have fled the circular pattern, almost
all of them need glasses, to see, to grow blind.
It's a miracle how one does not lose his mind.

It's a hunt, a search, adventure for the lonely,
routine to bands of others. For treasure not a single
one will find if not a change occurs.

My chair is comfort, a zone I will not leave today,
tonight, I may.

I scared her away from me, intense
feelings, she can not understand I do.
A person searching, climbing on to
and holding tight, when he can not sense,
the words are mumbled, the fear gets
immensely strong, don't flee, stay
for just one other song. We say
it all will be okay. Once she lets
her passion flow, the fear will fade,
folded up and poured into a form,
made,
printed paper, still warm.