hear listen to the sound
of the crisp snow spinning the air
say hello where are you
say farewell to the old moon
while rivers are carrying their quiet darkness
and all the poems untouched
by emptiness
remake or retake
get drunk with lucidity
get high as the wind passing through
untold stories

I don't know where I'm going,
the streets are intoxicated,
the air pregnant with sweetness
my tears cannot wait for the linden honey
I would go to that place where
time is made of dreams

he survives his story kept in boxes and knives
the dread of forgotten runes keeps him company
mother repression father night
emptiness surrounded by invisible walls
death a continent for the living

I am facing this vortex of muted music
with empty hands, despair and white hair
no solace for the unshed tears
everyday he tells me something
about nothing

On a hot day in July I stood with my hands in my pockets and my mind in the clouds. It felt like I had the world at my finger tips and perhaps for the first time in a long while, I was happy.

Surround yourself with friends and family, let go of all of your dark thoughts, because I did, and look where it got me.