If I could string my every thought of
Selflessness together, they wouldn't even
Reach from one cell of mine to
The other.

All I do is for me.
I have abandoned the thought that
Hate pulls the Universe apart.
Fear does.

Fear that someone will see us
As the selfish little souls we are.
All the good you do is for yourself.
So do it.

Feeling good about  
Smiling at a stranger or leaving
Change in that ******'s cup
(Mostly because it's Christmas, or

Spring, or whatever),
Does not make the act worthless.
Embrace your humanity.
It's ok to be selfish.

So what if you'll never be
Mother Teresa?
You know; she might have been
No better than you.

She just did it all anyway.
Eat, drink, breathe, serve.
A saint feeling good about being
A saint, is no less one than another.

there is so much night fallen under, in between, beside
the space is not enough to handle the burden of the living
the music refuse to surrender, grotesque
to givedeathsomethingtodo
each tiny thought fills the chamber of not-yet-thoughts
toomuchtobear
each idea splits into thousand others each minute
the mind is a rag, a broken doll watching this performance of power
l’elan vital
feelings ceaselessly running wild into each other,
crashing, colliding, stumbling blinded
calling their names
no redemption for light anywhere
crawling happens in all direction in the same time
until space it’s collapsing under its own weight
I slip through a dark visible hole attuned to the rhythm of hell
what an experience, the speed of blood refuses to freeze
terror is running to stand still
not enough connections
I practice some claws out of chaos
crammed with ******
the pain is unbearable all over
every inch is a battlefield
time has turned into the ghost of eternity
just a direction to flow, if only I could find
sing me a lullaby mama
so that I can make more space between my ears
lend me some grace
to ask death
to be gentle with me
only imagination breathes in
to steal some time alive
dreaming the touch of peacefulness
amid the stubbornness of heart

nospacenolight
this is how I became an expert
in pigeon’s flight
while insisting somehow
to keep my eyes inside
this is how I got some courage
to bear Yes & No in the dark
to keep writing when I die in myself
for love to find