A house that breaks down upon my back
A life I’m willing to give for it
Rotten columns with support that they lack,
but how I raise my arms in support of It.


Crooked little place that I call my own
How I love you for your imperfections
For you contain hidden beauty within your bones
A Fierce independence that resists alterations


Crawling rats that rob my pantry daily  
they are the only company that I know.
Spite and hatred towards them is plenty
But fear of quiet solitude is a greater blow.


Bring in foreign guests full of presents
only to have them hurt my home
Empty boxes and hungry pockets
Make me wish I was here all alone


A solid but divided foundation under me
Creates hidden cracks upon the structure
Why I cannot fix what I cannot see
But must tear it all down in hope of a better future

I dreamt of a house on a hill.


A gentle gaze looked through the window


And a sound of the sweetest tune filled


The scenery from a flute’s blow.


The image of an aged adventurer fulfilled


With his journey ends as the dreamer grows.

Gentle face that rests upon the infinite sea
Lonesome and at times cold.


Radiating beauty through divine mystery,
Come kind guardian of old.


When you are not whole I will be your company.
Stretch out your hand and hold.


As I keep you warm from those cold winds that blow free
You more precious than gold.


But as leaves fall you must eventually leave me.
So, I look and behold

It came like a flash
A candle so bright it blinded me.

At once a sunset grew within my eyes
So beautiful and free.

Knowing it would burn out
I greedily stared into its flames.

Until my sight became clouded
By the dancing red dames.

In darkness I felt a warmth
More vivid than any sight

True beauty is not seen
But feeling gives true light

Impossible colors appeared
Among the newly formed shadows

Painting a scenery
More beautiful than golden meadows

Joy fills my heart now and forever
as tears ran down like flowing cascades

It left in a flash
A candle that now fades

I question my freedom of will
as my actions feel controlled by a cosmic puppeteer


I do not know why or what future awaits me
But every action seems controlled by logic of some degree


The movement of cosmic giants
Can be measured by certain variants


My thoughts and emotions are predicted
By doctors of the mind telling me “it’s scripted


Within every individual by evolution
Of ancestors that were blinded by illusions


That there was more to this world than the physical
Such as gods and tales that were mythical”


My behavior and desires are constrained by a society
Which I must please to the fullest of my ability


Telling me how to act how to be and what to wish for
But it seems it’s never enough and demand more


So when I’m sitting still in this moment in time
I’ll write my thoughts and worries and express that I’m fine


To be controlled or not is an unanswerable question
So even if I were in chains from my actions and interactions


I’ll be content as long as that puppeteer
Makes me different from anyone near