Two people,
One love,
Nothing else.

Nothing is like before,
And before, it was nothing.

I like you, but you know
How it is,
Or maybe you don't know,
But it's still like this.

There had been too much pleasure,
Too many excitements,
With only emptiness afterwards.

Don't threaten my imaginary friends,
If it's me you really want.

Answers are never about questions,
Answers are always about us.

Sometimes I'm scared,
But never enough to be afraid.

Subtract words,
Add meanings,
Have the endings enjoy the beginnings.

In my world
Your word
Is my world.

I was in a prison, and they smuggled a nice book to me,
So I read it with a huge liberating feeling,
But as I lived in a totalitarian state,
Where nothing is left to the fate,
My sentence was immediately doubled,
For my daring attempt to escape.

Yesterday is gone,
There is no tomorrow,
But today is all over the place.

The company is here,
Everything is on the table,
I'm looking around, but don't see me anywhere.

As friends go,
Some never come back.

Two black boxes put together
Are creating a black hole,
With flying colours inside.

Look at me with your eyes,
Think about me with your thoughts,
But leave to me all your words.

I told you so,
But you wouldn't listen,
And now you are sorry,
End of story.

My soul
Is in the state of a traumatic wound,
Cut out from the void,
Or something like that.

Don't look at me,
Look to me,
Look out for me.

There is nothing sweaty about a desert,
No fears, no thoughts, no smells,
Only a dry feeling of being,
Only a dry feeling of self.

I think about you all the time and all over the space,
Like the entropy, you are everywhere.

The crazy gravity is pulling me upwards,
Towards the birds, away from flying swords,
To see the small, the big, myself perhaps.

Every eternity is a tiny second,
That forgot, how to live in time
And settled down in space.

My soul doesn't build any buildings,
No mistery would be hidden in that,
Lonely scaffolds in endless swamps are rather my soul's biddings.

It is fair to tell, in a fairy tale,
That the people are trees or Gods,
With each other at peace or at odds.

We know a little, before the begin of the play,
Our hidden secrets will be ours, till the end to stay,
The plot is twisted, the future lies straightaway.

A mysterious lady in the black dress
Is smiling from a huge painting,
Longing for her lovely small world.

If I were a pilgrim,
I would go to a theatre,
I would never come back.

Any life is life-driven,
Any word is confusing,
Any rhythm is not even.

A voice answers a voice,
A choice is making a choice,
A story is finally told.

There are thousands of poems, praising minimalism,
Admiring minimalism,
Filling up books about it.

I loved - from a short distance, in the dark,
Being a tree, then a seagull,
Making my beautiful mark.

The name being an illusion,
The first name is a first mirage,
The last name completes entourage.

I'm taking different shapes,
Like an arc, I'm going through,
To discover the limits of shades.

I have an untitled feeling,
All the day, from the beginning,
No name, no lie, no title.

Waiting for a better day,
Waiting for the month of May,
Waiting to return and stay.

There's a comedy, looking into a bright future,
There's a tragedy, looking deep in the soul,
There's a mixe-up, looking mostly like me.

Estranged but not interrupted -
I am getting my revenge
In carrying on with the talking.

Umbrellas against swords -
What party will win,
Before rains, and winds, and words?

I don't believe what I think,
I don't think what I feel,
I don't feel what I want.

Golden gates in the smog,
That you see only when
You close your eyes.

The realism is a change in disguise,
Changing the topics - constantly, twice,
Faking itself, to avoid a fake.

I wish,
I were with me right now,
Without getting on my nerves.

It was very tough,
But I made me laugh,
And it's really quite enough.

I don't have enough coffee
To understand you now,
And I'm short of a good wine
To like you in the meantime.

I always want what I never need,
That's two eternities meeting together,
To fall into the same abyss, again and again.

It's too strange a time
To be mine,
But it is.

Getting used to everything
You might see one day in your mirror
Beats any other life philosophy.

I am booked by my feelings and thoughts
Till the end of my life,
And being overbooked.

On average,
There is one secret knowledge per person,
But no one knows it.

To get it done,
I tried everything,
I might as well give it up and just do it.