Because in the end I'm still standing
in the corner
like I like
or don't like
I have yet to decide but
I'm laughing with myself;

vanity never got me anything.

So I'll wear exactly what I like or
what you want me to like or
whatever I found on the floor
and I'll collect more and more
until I finally realize what I chore it is

Pretending who you're going to be each day.

Dress me in grey
Stick me in a simple box
Set me on fire and
throw me to the rocks in the sky
that always reflected the dreamy mist of another life
into my vacant eyes.

C.e.M. 12.12.14

I'm so afraid
Of what I just don't know

I have trouble sleeping at night
I always sleep
With some kind of light

I'm afraid of aliens
Looking through my window
While I'm sleeping
I'm afraid of an alien
When I'm dreaming

I think they're on the moon
Living underneath it

But if every nation drops their bombs on the moon
They might start leaving
But if we keep on waiting
The earth might stop breathing

The art of war is to surprise your enemies
Even if they're aliens
We might beat them right now

If you think that I'm lying
It's like a bee's nest

If we only shake it
They'll all sting us

But if we burn it in a mountain of hell and flames
Then they might start leaving
And the earth will find it's peace now

So everybody

If you're afraid of the aliens
Then aim your guns now
Every nation in the world
Let's unite as one cloud

Let's get angry
And destroy the moon now

Before they destroy

Us

Courage is
A little fear
A little hope

And a lot of

Love

I see nothing but a man, screaming to be realised and untied, forcefully breaking through for air. I see nothing but a women, slowly fading away, Into the shadows, in which will always follow me, haunt me to remind me of what I once was,

I have torn away at my outer shell, to make my identity, somewhat translucent,
I am a stranger to my skin, the stranger that has been suffocating me for 16 ******* years,

Have I been born yet? Or am I still a book ready to be written, full of ideas and journeys, full of life, yet neglected like an ancient undiscovered history book,

Like those captured animals I've been locked away my whole life,
I've been tortured by my own mind,
Poisoned by the minds around me, a daughter, a bride, a mother, they're all just society's illusions,

I'm still a walking Skeleton with just bone and no identification,
I'm an escape artist, i'll cut my way out of this skin until I bleed myself dry,
So just bury me after I'm dead, so I can leave that life behind, leave my dresses and skirts at the grave,

When water spills, the only path it takes is the one that flows easiest,
But the path I have chosen is cemented, I have reached an impasse, with no direction, I need a river to keep me from disposition
I need to be free, I want to exist.

Today I am a cracked canoe floating atop a restless ocean

My map was caught in the furry of a wave and melted away
into papery sea foam that oozed
through my hopeful fingertips

I taste nothing but salt
every time the wind whimpers your name
but still, I paddle on
with quaking palms and knotted shoulders
I paddle on
until the wind sleeps soundly
in the embrace of yesterday,
I paddle on.

I can change
the speeds,
but I will always increase
in time and distance.

A seemingly endless
track of rubber
energized by electricity,
worn out by the steps
I and those before me
have already made,

But I can choose
to get off
and stop.


I just haven't decided
how or when
I will get off.

A body like running pavement
and filled with
skidmarks --
broken pictures of sunset sky between trees
power lines--
they fall and rise like waves,
quickly flashing.

A mind like an endless set of highways
there's no map to tell
where anything could end up--
ideas that are
headlights, move with uncontrolled velocity,
bobbing in the darkness, wheels
humming from the engine, throaty engine--
voice that's a radio, projects songs
and thoughts
to the passengers--

it's not a roller coaster, we don't choose to be behind a wheel
but we're all in our vehicles
with horns
and shouting matches and road rage,
swearing, arguing our luck,
gambling the speed limit
to try to get to all our destinations
"on time"
but God only wants you to feel the wind rushing
through your rolled-down windows,
or contemplate on silent journeys, a
seemingly never ending stretch of road,
breathe through the starry summer nights,
sunlight flickering on rooftops,
dirt paths in forests,
trees, lights,
pedestrians,
a hitch hiker,
clouds,
parks,
mountains,
cities,
stoplights,
billboards,
­but all you see is the
pictures fading into a blur--
blurring,
all
blurring,
and sudden--*

                          collision.

Ink flows through my veins
sharpen blades on my wrist
bleeding on paper
swallowing my pain
through the clenching of my fist
slicing through tendons
feeling dismembered
like I'm expelled from a group
coming up is December
a time spent together
yet I'll probably sit with my Solitude
me and him in my room
with paper and knife
cutting myself to see
what my blood will write
Innards embody a scribe
parts of me die
either given away
or taken from me
my blood is here for you to read
honost and open
no flow of deceit
and not a trace of defeat.

Self healing is amazing.
Sometime I rather dream forever and never wake up.
What matters to me is what I can not see.
Just like oxygen love is vital.
Seems too often love is idle.
I see myself adjust to ways or games I thought I'd never play.
In retrospect I was already liquified dope
Easy to follow, but then I knew sorrow
When I vent and repent it is usually rare
It is not a coincidence when our emotions bleed bare
Stay aware of the masks that we all tend to wear
I never experienced a nightmare
Who is scared of what the night shares?
Were all connected now spiritually and through the internet, so stay alert and never fumble to negative interceptions
Electric relaxation is a humble connection
Perception is a trip because I never seen my self
Crazy who I think I am I'm not to someone else
Serene, for the moments
Steady, on an orbit whirl
Self healing is amazing.
Ready for these foreign worlds.

There is wet sand in my veins
and I’ve never seen the ocean-
but I thought I saw it in your eyes.
Maybe I was only trying to find
the salt water
to help me float.
You were silken yet solid, a work of art
I felt I did not deserve.
Yet under every glistening
oceans’ waves
swims monsters and demons
we cannot see
or the pressure will crush us.
I am a cyclone
twisting in every direction:
dizzy, destructive, and dying.
But I am still. Too still.
Calm before the storm.
Calm before the storm.
If this is calm, god please
let me dissolve…