I remember
something vague
from a distant past
which I can't place yet
here in the present.

A story in my head
filled with fun
and intense happiness
not a scratch on my crystal ball
everything healthy,
nothing broken.

An era has passed
a love perished
the piece has been written
but I don't like the ending.

My mother-in-law,
said I must read fairy tales.
Fly on! you **** witch.

Ticking time
sliding by
painfully slow

The future
in front of me
lies miles
behind me.

The present
unfortunately
no longer favorable
for me

I feel
a timeless remorse
now I may
have loved you too little

Morning dusk looms
and hunts furiously
across the whole earth
chasing the dark.

In conflict together
for the upcoming light.
Night is soon
succumbed to dawn.

But already makes
dark plans again,
to banish the light
once more
before nightfall

I look up
I look down
I looked behind and all around

I seek
and I’ve searched
but nothing could be found

I stop
and I stared
but there is nothing there

So why
do people say
that spring is in the air

My head is weary
my thoughts are gone.
do I make a short poem
or does it need to be long

What is the point,
why is there all this thinking.
is it true that writing is easier
after I have been drinking.

The paper is too white
and the ink is too black
but once the first word is written
there is no way going back.