I'm tired of
loving, living
I want
a pool of poetry to swim in.

A song from something half-a-year ago
Reminded me of the way I felt
Every season is different to my heart
Autumn 2012
Would my poetry be concidered art?
This line is assault
Eat my heart
With pepper and salt
Make sure you cook it
thoroughly
Otherwise you'll get poisoned
by all the sentimentality.

Alike a dead dove
after the rain
The future is just as hopeless
and cold.
The regrets will stick
to the soles of your shoes
Will hide under your pillow, tie you up, wouldnt let you breathe
even for a minute
What tale will I hear from your
bed,
hands,
eyes
So honest and so far
away.

And now I can feel the Freedom on my skin

See it with my eyes

And fill my lungs with it.

It flows through my veins,

It’s the scent of every flower.

I bear my hate to you

Like a child

In a womb of hurt feelings

And pretendious lies.

I met a girl,

At first glance she was nothing special

But after half a bottle of *****

I saw her real beauty.

Her perfect skin and big dark eyes,

Her tender lips and rosy cheeks

The way she sat and the way she talked

And the day she ignored me the day after.

Hey you,

the one i like,

you’ve got a pretty soul.

Tell me,

is love only something that

pretty people

can produce?

I am

a poet

my soul

eager to the sky.

If I

tell how

I could rip myself open

and let the creatures fly out of my chest

be they eagles

be they Locusts

the meaning

will die.

As He said,

” thought once spoken

is untrue”

let me be silent

not speak at all

but explain myself

with kisses

on your

perfect skin.