Under my scalp
flows a river
from the outside you would think
that it's calm and lovely
the one you saw as a child
running, soothing
But my river is wild
and in spite of its wildness
so beautfiul
- because I see your face.
I see it in the waters surface
and the ghosts of our memories
flow with the stream
an endless turmoil

Normally the river wouldn't affect anything but the head
but now that you're gone
it flows out into my heart
-  into my hands,
that can no longer hold you
into my feet,
that no longer point in your direction
into my lips,
that haven't been quite satisfied since they last met yours.

My body runs over
I can't control the river
because you've filled it
it all runs over
and I cry

I cry when I don't have you.

every time I see a, or any
part of
you
my heart hurts,
aches

out of sight
out of mind
but i can’t erase you
traces of you
linger
everywhere
my whole existence somehow
intertwined with yours

maybe it’s just that
you have a piece of my
heart
- it’s unbearable

I long for either
someone else,
to take the rest
or for you to take,
what has always
belonged
to you

i have written words
in the same pace
as my history was being written
i tried writing my past
as so many had suggested
and yet
it never worked
so i started writing my future
and look where i am

imagine
writing a book
bhuuff

why do you put a clock in the room
if you really only live by
your own perception
of time

the chalkboard chatters
in its different languages
ancient ways
am i supposed to understand?
understand all of this
it’s just chalkboard chatter
- not important to me
i’m important to them

i don’t care
if you cut your hair
you’re still there
for me
aren’t you?

i don’t care
if you ruin our garden
we’re still here
for each other
aren’t we?

i don’t care
if you ruin my hair
i’ll still be there
for you
won’t i?

maybe i should care
but then again
i don’t
do i?

i thought the black
was a reflection
of his soul
i was wrong
but not really
it wasn’t a soulless black
it was the colour
of all the colours

it hurts
to feel good
it feels good
to hurt

my bond
to fictional characters
come from the lack
of real people

they tell me
i won’t get anywhere
if i don’t follow the rules
but honey
**** it
i want to be everywhere

i keep this love
in a phone case
that’s how we do it today
is it not?

why am i scared of the dark
when i know that i’m the light
won’t i shine bright enough
or will i scare the dark away
i am so scared
please don’t go
i need my light
and i need my dark
without them
i am nothing
but a shell

the hallway seems so dark
way too dark for me
i need to pass through
to reach the next door
but it’s so dark
so so dark

why would you shape my mind
to fit your mold
how could that be interesting?
how could that be fulfilling?
i guess it’s subjective
how you treat your subject

the butterflies in my stomach
turn to wasps in my head

as a kid
i built my wall with lego's
then later on
i finished it with stones

i picked up the phone
just to hear nothing
but within nothing
i heard your voice
- you chose to be nothing

i frame out an apple
and i frame out a pear
but behind it lies
a world
- my world
in despair

i opened my window
and the wind blew in
turning over a page
telling me
that it was time
to start a new chapter

from birth
the cup is filled with water
dust will and can land
directly in your cup
but fear not
for it goes to the surface
stones are a whole different thing though
they weigh more
than your water in your cup
they’ll push it out
leaving you
with a cup of stones
and tiny spaces with water
that used to be clean

you’re so fun and colourful

..yes, i know,
im compensating for the dullness inside

yes, i know

my oversized shirt
is my own little tent
it’s big enough for the both of us
but i won’t let you in
i’m not playing hide and seek
i’m just playing hide
so leave me be
in this tent of mine

you
of all people know
that true anger
can’t be explained

i don’t sleep enough
he wakes me up
in the middle of the night
wanting to discuss what happened
and what might happen
i don’t sleep enough

it would be so
easy
if we were numbers and
figures
but how boring would it be
if we could calculate
each other

this that
this this that
talk is cheap
and the language poor
the only thing rich
is action

i see the cracks in your brick wall
it’s okay
my walls have damage too

sweetie do you see
the resemblance between
your heartbeat
and your life

my hero
is a pen
and some paper

make me cry
make me cry
i laugh
because you made me cry

the hole in the wall
has my eyes spellbound
i see nothing
and everything