Salty skin,
bare, burnt, buttery
and brutally BBQ'ed.

Amused by laying under
the rose-white parcel
decorated by green, blue and yellow.

Silver stars
beneath the blue lagoon
swallowing long limbs.

Appealing dry lips
consuming drops of shine,
kissed by the breeze.

Bathing beauty,
shy, sunny
and summoning sandy stares.

Glitter poured into the ocean,
sparkling,
shining like stars.

Beauty is an underestimation.
She, a sip of sweet tea,
nectar for the bees.

A dip in the cold water,
bathing in caviar
and champagne.

Glowing body
casting a shadow
on the burning sand.

The calm smile
stretching out wrinkles
on the peachy cheeks.

Rich butterflies in the stomach,
light as clouds
cotton candy flavored.

Bloomed and flowered,
at peace,
old but young at soul.

White locks of pure life
flowing in the wind
touching the tanned shoulders.

Worn down hands of insight,
which touched so many characters
with such sophistication.

Admired woman at the beach,
breathless,
with such a graceful face.

I wish to meet you again,
for you melt my heart
in another perfect imperfect dream.

You got me so drunk
I forgot what a hangover was.
Twisted lies,
and the devils eyes.
In between the happiness,
is what I call hate.
Unlike what you might think,
it's what made me want you
in the first place.
I crave a drop of you and your face
now and then
when I'm not really thirsty.
I search for mercy
wrapping myself in the sky,
going to bed,
planning what I might do
when you let me drink again
the next time I see you.

I met myself
yesterday.
I was like
honey-mustard,
rich
and
tasted like gold.

My edges were
toasted
and
my feelings
color coordinated
wet without
the use of water.

But I realized
I no longer
wanted
to live
in my own mind,
not even
a second longer.

Raw meat on your silver plate.
Heavy fingers
caressing my bare flesh.
You cannot invite yourself
if you aren't welcome.
Then you used your
sticky, heavy and disgusting
thick fingers
to caress some more.
In my head  
broken people can only
create broken things.
So what if you created it  
you said while
everyone in the cinema
had melted hearts.
But this is no love story
more like horror.
For I would not bow
and you made me.

You have the smell of feeling something,
but the touch of regret.

Warm hands,
but a cold heart

You're like yellow,
a representation of happiness and sickness.

Sip on my nectar
as if it was yesterday.
Fuel your wings
and fly away.

If you are in charge
you will end up hurting
your own soul.

I plug in the
vacuum cleaner
to **** it up
and see  
if it disappears
into a bag
that holds
everything
that is black
and blue.

You cannot title her.
For she is not to be summed up.
She is to be unlimited and infinite.

The mercy of God
saved him from
the world.

With his alleged
****** birth
flesh from
light and darkness
mixed in a
good and evil
conflict.

Flesh and meat
eaten.
A member
to pluck fruit.
Wicked lost souls
belonged to
the lower order.

This world delights you,
but you may not love him.
For when he leave
the truth cling to you.

And lead you
to do things
and thunder from
the ******'s womb
might not linger
so that he stays.

Let hymns of thanksgiving and cries of sorrow
have mercy on me.
Make perfect imperfect.

Joy in my heart
is doomed to die
in your kingdom.

You have chosen
your protection of
your wings
to shelter weakness
for there is no good.

Almighty,
Let my words be understood
as they are meant.

Lord If I may ask:
When we pray for the truth
and open our hearts to you,
will you be merciful
before you confess.

You used to make me filled with fear

You sting,
but at least you
could have tried.

Your thorns
are growing,
letting me bleed.

Therapist: How are you feeling?

My answer: Currently experiencing hell on earth.
                      But nothing major, just a slight reaction
                      to the misery my thoughts
                      are dragging me though.

Therapist: That must be hard

I wake up with tears on my face
and my mind searches for a reason
for the tears to dry on my face
while my eyes close again
to search for that happy place
the one which has no trace.

I wonder if my tears are just an illusion
in order to illustrate my confusion.

Since they cut
my long heavy
navel string
they too
cut the feeling
of love.

Attachment
was never present
in the same
jointed way
that I once
felt thoroughly.

Then came
one who too
had a
broken heart
who's navel
was fully hallow.  

One who
would use the
navel string
to wrap it
around my neck
till I choked.

I realised
then
that
you made me scared of the word,
love,
because you used it in the wrong way.

I braided my hair
so it wouldn’t
fall into your face
and touch
your smiling lips

When your lips
stoped smiling
then I stoped
braiding

The length of the silk fabric.  
does not determine the quality.
It may be long,
or it may be shot.

So when you ask me about
the length of my poems
my answer will be
that I want to enjoy every word,
feel every sentence and
appreciate all of the fabric.

If you want to define love
you are not worth of such beauty.
Because love is not to be defined
just like you can’t describe
the golden thoughts of a crazy lady.

Her shine will forever remain
unspoken amongst the cruel men
who no longer know what to strive for
or what to do with the the puddle of shine.

Boredom can cause you to do
horrible,
  dreadful,
    frightful,
     shocking,
       terrible
         things.

That causes hair-raising
and spine-chilling thoughts
to appear in your mind.
Yet they never seem to hurt the bee,
only the bird.

I'll show you mine
if you show me yours.
She said
as paint dripped down her face.
Humming melodies from out of space.

That one stare
you gave me from across the room.
Showing me how disappointed
you are that I no longer is yours to keep.

I feel every inch of my body
filled with terror.
Because you blame me
for moving on when you haven't.

You gave me no reason to stay
or obey.
But I will never recover
from your straight, lonely stare.

I hope you now learn
that you can't cut the wings
off the flying bee
and expect it to collect nectar.

For I am no longer present for you.

Your mother spoon-feeds you happiness.
But at some point
the happiness becomes rotten.

So she cuts your meat in pieces
and feeds it to the therapist.
In hope of answers.

But she will never find the knifes
cutting slowly in your mind.
For you are hopeless.

You snipped you brown locks
off your twisted head.
Now chained to another princess’s bed.

Your affection is like the smell
of chlorine on a rusty day.
Do I want it to leave or stay?

You made the white flowers
grow within me.
Now go ahead and sip the tea.

My body and soul
can't be threatened by your stare.
Our feelings need a wheelchair.

You don't understand yourself.
So why should anyone else?

- Said the bird to the bee

She had so much love to give.
Yet, no one wanted it.
So she forced herself
to act like she didn’t love.

Purple and pink
glooms of hope
spark in what
I like to call life.
But my sweet darling
this is no life to live.
Full of regrets
that sail across
the passive mind.
Only to relive
what once wasn't
yellow and orange
juicy drinks
at the beach
with stars above.
The colorful hope
serves limited time
but at last it gives
an after glow.

I wanted you
to  s p r e a d  me
like butter.

I wanted your
knife's cold surface
to warm me up.

I wanted you
to ******* saltiness
as if it was sweetness.

I liked to see him suffer
because he used to watch me.

There is nothing better than watching
a man’s feelings getting shattered
after he shattered yours.

Even if you give, you’ll rarely get anything in return.
Don’t expect people to appreciate what you do for them.

- Pessimist

I see you drinking
a cup of warm tea
with chipped toenails
that scrunch your throat.

Your hand pour
the sand that looks like
pure brown sugar which
crunches between your teeth.

As you swirl it
it turns to black juice
with ****** veins
that clenches to your tongue.

Is that how you went ahead
and became so bitter?

Words drip from your mind
water the consciousness  
grows the sentence
that formes in you mouth  

- "Be my bee to my bird"

Baby,
you make most of your mistakes on white linen,
but Im laying on red rose petals.

Don't tell me that you understand.
Have you scooped out my eyes?
Like they were vanilla ice-cream.
Have you cut them open?
To see what they have seen.
Have you dug up all the memories?
To see what was buried in them.
Have you tried?

You will never know
what I have experienced.
Even if you took my eyes,
you wouldn't be able to feel it.

You are my mirror.
I see so much of
me
in your flesh.

Through your eyes
I feel your pain.
Through your veins
I feel your troubles.

Yet you are not
completely and utterly
me
because I am my own.

Through your touch
I know we are different.
Through your stare
I know we are not the same.

You may appear as my
mirror.
But my darling
mirrors twist reality.

If we felt nothing then how
would we be able to write
about
the darkness
that turns within
us
that creeps deep
down
so that we turn our
shoulder the other way
when really
we should have
faced
our devil.

How come no one really know
what they are doing with their life?

The sun and moon have purpose.
So why don't you?

The difference between
this and a love poem
is that this
is for me
not for you

I break myself
to be able to
feed you pieces
of me
that doesn't belong
to you

The truth is
no matter how hard I try
I will never be able to
express myself
in the words
my tongue can provide

Gone girl,
Gone soul.
Burned to ashes,
flying in the wind.
Freedom
here in emptiness.
Leave anything
on your mind.
Zone-out
and go about
what you though
didn't matter.
Yourself.
A work of art.
Seen by few.
Admired by less.
Valued by only you.

My heart doesn't just
hurt
when I see you.
It is battered.
You leave it
crushed
done by a fist.
Aching constantly.
It doesn't just feel  
pain
but permanent bruises.  
Like it's spilling out blood.
You left
my heart
damaged and disfigured.

A daydreamer,
who doesn't understand.
He took my hand,
told me the broken things.

I cut all the strings,
watched him burn.
then I wanted to learn.
Learn to end the fire.

Something I didn't know prior;
You can't start being a liar.
Then splash water on it,
when you should use an extinguisher.

Music in your ear.
Calms your mind.
Calms your world.

Screams turning into tears.
Water dripping from your face.
Water dripping from your soul.

An unconscious mind.
Not able to understand reality.
Not able to understand normality.

Floating in false beliefs.
With a confused thinking.
With a unclear thinking.

Involuntary presence.
Lack of motivation.
Lack of creation.

Told me once,
told me twice.
Rolling a deice,
do I have your affection?

Busy, busy, busy,
bee.
Nothing I can't see,
Yet, I let it go.

Creeping back,
when I don't know.
Tip, tap, toe.
My mind won't let go.

I once discovered,
a dark place.
Hidden beneath
all the fear.

Crawling up
the ladder.
To drag me down,
and let me drown.

Shaking pain,
and nothing else.
no rescue,
because I chased it away.

The words I write,
come with no crime.
Tapping away,
in a field of grey.

Imagination,
temptation,
and the need for acceptation.

It is a meditation.
Feeling everything,
letting the words come up
as I'm puking.

The words I write,
help me survive.
Not alone,
forever be known.

This is the Sun.
Bright enough
to keep you alive.
Bright enough
To give you skin cancer.