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When you thought you knew all the answers.
And everything changes.
Once again but with a more broad perspective.
Everything you're seeking becomes more effective.
Because you're seeking for the truth, the truth that is within.
Touch it, feel it through a human skin.

We are free.
Free from the heart.
We are free.
Free from the start.

Can you not just follow a program but feel where you must be?
You are a spiritual being that is longing to be free.
And maybe some of us are so fed up and tired of being stuck in this situation.
All around the universe it's possible, we have our possibilities in our own true self, our own true creation.
We can create and see anything when we're dreaming.

We are free.
Free from the heart.
We are free.
Free from the start.

But not when we're sleeping, take the ones that are willing.
Out of the matrix for a new beginning.
Maybe this was not in vain cause now you and I know how freedom really feels.
So I'm taking you through the spinning wheels.
Back home, back to the source, back to truth, our spiritual form.
Run with me, sing along, dance around, open your eyes through the storm.

We are free.
Free from the heart.
We are free.
Free from the start.
Free from the pain of the programm and programming.
Free to be.
Free to feel what you and I are really feeling, truly being.
We are free,
Free from the heart.
We are free.
Free from the start.
This poem keeps getting a BAD GATEWAY 502
Or even gets deleted.
I reported the ''Bad Gateway'' situation a while ago but no response.
I'm standing in a dark room with my eyes closed.
I'm finding a new song.
As I fall in love.
As I'm always falling.
Can I be in love with you when I'm not among the living?
I can't sleep.
I can't find comfort in anything.

But the dark room and the song remind me of the moment where not everything is happening .
I'm not missing out on anything.
When I'm in the moment and I see much more in the dark.
I'm missing out when I see everything happening.
Because that's when nothing's really happening to me.

I'll go searching in the dark, maybe I'll find love.
Maybe you will find  me too.
Like the song.
Like the song found me.
As I sing along.
I notice you touching my lips.

Your hands are feeling every movement.
I feel every feeling as I'm singing.
The song that found me.
And I found you years ago but I cannot be in love with you.
Because I'm not among the living.
I can't sleep.
I can't find comfort in anything.
Take my hand and we’ll jump through the pastel chalk powder.
We can be a different creature.
Both of us can go and feel at home.
Not here.

This can be an ode to my friends and my closest family.
Because you are always so dear and understanding, especially now that we're here.
Look now all around, it feels full of options but it still makes you nauseous, yes I know.

Take my hand and let me show you why I have to go through the pastel powder.
Let me be a different creature, I feel sick when I stick around.
Both of us can feel at home now when we jump right through the ground.
A chalk pavement painting.

Let's go right into the pavement painting.
Let me take you.
Pastel, not too bright but soft and light.

This painting is an ode to my dear friends and closest family.
Because you're always so dear and some things you understand so well.
Come on let me take care of those wounds and soreness with a chalk powder.
A soft chalky powder smell.

And soft colours for strange creatures.
We can be.
A different kind of creature when we go through the chalk powder on the pavement.
Take my hand, we can be, we can be...

Why am I breathing in your smoke?
Coughing till I choke.
Why am I always hearing you talk?
I live here.
But it’s not living cause there’s no escaping.
Your noise, your voice.

Sometimes I force my cramped up body to crawl.
Only in music I can make this possible. Understand my tears, they are streaming from the top of my head boiling, steaming, streaming.
I wish I could make you feel the hurt in my screaming!

Why am I forced to feel your **** when you smoke?
My body turning ****** till I choke.
Hours of horror.
What day is it?
What day was this sensitive guy going to die?
I read he’ll die this Friday.
Finally all his pain, horror and torture floating away.
I will wave his ship goodbye.

But can I stay behind as my friends are keeping me around the finish line?
It’s over but we’re having another bag of crisps and maybe even another little glass of wine.
Why am I still breathing?
Forcing this body that is never leaving...
Death is a strange thing.
But when life is torturing...
Death whispers a soft lullaby.
A sweet and bitter goodbye.
An I’m so sorry to friends and family.
There’s still a place where we can be.
I’ll try to be there.
When you ever feel the horror and the torture that somehow some people must bare.
I know all about the suffocation of life and how it makes your body and mind feel too old.
Your cramping muscles too sore and your inside too cold.
No way to calm it down but I will somehow change it cause I must.
It’s something I do for me and something you have to trust.
Because there’s no other way and it won’t go away.
Even when I dance in a trance.
I need no more torture.
No more torture.

Death is a strange thing.
Death is living.
When life is torturing.
Whisper sweet lullabies as I’m crying, as you’re crying.
Please understand, I’m never leaving because I’m never leaving you forever.
And I care but it’s so dark and merciless here that it gives me a fever.
One I can only escape in a sweet lullaby.
In a sweet bitter goodbye.
Goodbye, goodnight, I love you, feel the sparkle, feel the warm embrace from behind.
I’m never gone you’ll find.
It will be another night for a moth lying on its side with its arms and legs on its side.
Wings covering its tiny body.
Exhausted and weary, feverish and a tickling cough.
Can’t keep eyes open, can never fully drift off.
I don’t know when, I don’t know if I can.  
Not now, but somehow I’ll find you.
Looking around, people, always on the go or struggling.
Or both I’m just watching and I don’t know when and where I’ll go.
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