Lights moves slowly at night. Brutal flashes of distance belongs to the daylight and the busy commoner.
In darkness all becomes soft and silent.
Wrapped in invicibility.
As the bus takes me trough space like catapillars on leaves, I catch myself wondering.
Whispering about who you are.
We look at ourselves trough magnifying glasses as if the essence of the world were to do the same.
A tool for us only, and the curiousity lingers...
we want to touch the imperfections we're not familiar with.
Blind we reach out for details that never hits the surface, and what insanity to think of diving into the cold!
Yet we never felt the temperature.
Expectations will overpower lust for most.
I travel alone in the dark, holding my own hand.
Impulses flow trough my body like the silent shock of bombs in the distance.
My mind is at cold war.
I want to touch and feel the bumpy road leaning towards my fear, and to taste the sweat of my dreams.
A toung caresses my mind so smoothly, as I yearn to figure out how words could ever touch me in such ways.
Am I warm, stranger?
You don't need eyes.
In melancholy and excitement I bade in hills of emotion, and for once, my mortal enemy, my weakness, I welcome you.
I smell your intentions carefully as I learn to know your presence.
Your hair is grey with the wisdom of shared pain, and your skin is soft like a newborn ready to live another life.
I don't need eyes either.
Only heart.
To fight nature is my nature, for on this earth I am a moon, and how was I ever to learn the ways of the one admiring my mystique?
As I would admire them.
No grass to softly hold me tonight, only cold windows.
But strangely I have also found comfort in the passing by.

In the flowing lights of a musical romance, there lives a queen.

And she dances so violent.
She sings so silent.

She is everything, anything, heart filled with happiness, soul filled with sadness.
Mind filled with madness.

She is flawed perfection, the crack in logic we crave.
The innocent child we all wish to save.

She is waves, she is fire, she's not me.
But I'm here, I'm alive and I'm her.

Her creator, her pain and her love.
I am everything, anything, nothing at all.

Running wild, standing tall. What is real, what is truth, what is lie, who am I?

Is it me or the world who is wrong, who does wrong, who acts wrong, am I wrong?

In the blank spaces, there dances a queen, and in the ink that are lines, here rests I.

For this book is me.
And captured between infinate pages I fly free.

For a Syrian boy.

Slipping away from desperate arms
Within salty, dark waters.
Familiar voices fade with distance and    
Drown, as stars become
Blurs lulling you to sleep with their

Good night twinkle-twinkles.  
Hands too small for any gun or
Grenade open up like little flowers
To a night no night-light ever could
Illuminate.

~

Where was God when you whimpered
In fear?
Swam an angel of light in the darkness
Down there in  
The deep, with her comforting hand on
Your motionless shoulder?

Little Dream Brother.
Dreaming nightmares all meant
For another.
Asleep in the sand, with the ocean
Washing over.

Sleep. It seems like I've missed it this time around.
Shame. Cheating on your dreams with reality.

Moments of clarity through pain, suffering.
Endless yearn for beauty yet it passes,
as it possesses, caresses, dissipates, clears.
Moments of endless thoughts of these moments,
of these moments of clear  blue skies.

Never forget them.

You must cherish, flourish, nurture.
Crushing waves of agony clears right up as you see the stars...
And skies...

And yourself reflected through the universe,
reflecting its beauty through eyes like merits
of eternal stardust reminding you that while your life is fleeting,
moments are forever.