the taste of morning dust
with a feel of penniless thoughts
that dont give a ****.
great moments that lasted only mere seconds
to zero dust

the colourless imagination of
hiding behind wood finish sunglasses
all the stars are open
smoke black heart
its just your way to die
leaning over tents in a blue river sky

String noises
wine but never 'whine'
voices creating
never time

looking for animals of the lesser
busses searching for the life
create some discussions

pretending to see that you are looking at me
avoiding the sounds of people searching for me
Shield of imagination
wondering alone without temptation
nobody can seek creation
please dont ask for the dust of the imagination
I will allways reach to the thorns realizing
my expectations
I dont have a response

the dust is just my way of telling
my being to be
alone in this sponge of the
never ending cycle
of me to be free