Where I come from - food looks perfect but always tastes watery.
Here, cucumber and tomatoes have mineral arteries.

Nomadic crypto bros enjoy fruity conversations.
French girls showing me apps that map constellations.

It's funny how new connections still leave me in solitude.
Even when the reasons for leaving home seem to collude.

All we see and feel is ultimately our own.
Promising futures in our countries have sadly flown.

Most seem to be fleeing, rather than becoming.
I've never been religious - but this must be my second coming.

I enjoy the relief of not weighing anyone's opinion.
Living fully, no longer my ego's minion.

First nights spent silently at a jazz festival.
Instead of hiding and crying - behind my self-built wall.

I've been afraid of writing without a broken soul as the source.
I hope you find your strength - you too, could do it of course.

No need to be like me, leaving everything behind.
Maybe just for once, to yourself, simply be kind.

I wish I could share this feeling of love.
Believe me when I say: your life can in fact fit like a glove.

A longing obsession

Even deep in depression

One topic always rises above

An unknown poem writer

A frequent run hider

With ink always dripping with love

He was somber for most of his life
Until one day, he simply said no-
He wanted to explore, to be as he is,
Not swallowing storms just to cope.

So he'll make the changes, and drive all the miles,
Blue eyes lighting up in the sun-
Feeling lighter with every breath,
His traveling soul on the run.

He’ll gather stories of a life well-lived,
Dark days fading into the past-
A history he once held way too tightly,
Now softened by joy at last.

Maybe he’ll sing after drinks at the bar,
Or trade tales with unguarded delight.
And though it’s all so wonderfully new-
You can tell by his face: It’s just right.