A shooting star shot me
with a 50. caliber of beauty
while I was standing guard
in the middle of my duty.

There I stood in silence
in the middle of the night.
Reminded of your smile
that is brighter than light.

Dreaming of those eyes
that illuminates my heart
and banish the gloom
that once tore me apart.

And as the shining sun rose
blooming beautifully slowly.
I thanked you once again
For not keeping me lonely.

This is not a poem
This is a painting
This is called modern art.

A lot of poets are smithing words
in the middle of the night.
A new tunnel of memories and feelings
are being made every second.
And as a poem written in blank letters.
I will soon be forgotten. Drowned.
In the ocean of  poetry.

Se på mig, når jeg
  Taler med en anden
    Danser let og ler
      Mærker musikken
        pumpe i mine vener
          Trykker vinen mod min gane
            Lukker mine øjne langsomt            
              Bevæger mine ben

Ser du?

Jeg er ikke ligeglad
Men i det mindste
er jeg  *lige glad

You used to tell me that I spoke beautifully
but maybe it was just the words that I wrote down at 4am
because those 4am nights were seemingly becoming a thing
and I needed time to process you
and do all I could to put you on paper
so I said that you fit me nicely.
But since then I haven't heard from you much
and it seems that you've taken my beautiful words
and turned them into the ground and planted yourself a future
and you've given yourself hope that maybe you'll hold something beautiful someday.
But rainy days pass
and you've hidden your sun away
and I'm starting to think that I might not be a part of your beautiful future
so I won't suffocate you with the words you've stolen from my tongue
cause I can still taste them on my lips
inches from where yours used to be when you told me
you'd stay forever.

*spinningheads-andmessybeds

I am sitting at the table.
                                                looking at my microwave food.


                                         I am eating it raw...

                                                           Cause five minutes is too long.

            when Depression is whispering in your ears.

                                I am happy that I even made it out of the bed.

which mean I was strong enough. To fight against the darkness.

                      That usually P
                                               U
                                                  L
           ­                                     L
                          ­                    S
                                          
                                             M
                                                 E

                                                 D
                                               O
                                                W
             ­                                      N
      
                                       ...Into an oblivion prison...



Where                                 -Loneliness-                         is my only cellmate.
                                            

                                            
I am sitting at the table.

                                                        W­ISHING
                                                          ­                     U
That I someday will gain the power to stand P
                                                                ­                    ...against the sickness...

                                                 That  ç̗̟̲̱̰͈̹̻͎͆̃̒͌͛̆̌̀̽͠o̧͇̤̘̳̱̹̟͉̼͆̿̌̄̔͒̂́͌͑ṟ̯̰̙̙͈̂̂̈́̋̆̌̊̓̐̀­̼̬̟̩ŕ̛̬̖̙̣̮͖̤̰̱̊̇̅̈́̽̇̈̑ͅu̗̙̯̙̙͍͇̦̗̤̅̅͛̈́́̓͒̇͆͝p̡̢̧̘͇̝̙̜̈͐̅́̏̀̊̿͘͝­̨̱t̨̡̡̧̲̮̗͖̳͎͒͐̄̍͑̈́͊͋͂͝s̡̜̤͚̳͇͎̤͓̓̓͗̃̏̐̈́̇̆͜͝ my heart...




...