What I love in You
Is not in me.

If i liked in You
What is like me.

I would love Me,
Not You.

Cycling, without haste,
Along narrow country roads.
On the edge, undisturbed waste.

Riding, alongside ancient springs
That hatch dry stones and tires.
In his nest of tear strips a blackbird sings.

Eventually, I get to the point of no return.
Where past and future merge.
And no more does the sun burn.

Love yourself,
so that you can,
joyfully,
give to the world,
without
expecting too much
in return.

‘Twas 2019 and the slithy humans
Did gyre and gamble in opuleans.
All jublirant were the influters
But the underproles outcraped.

Beware the Jabbersarscov my son!
The invisible spiky suriv:
The lungs that flood, the air that strungles
And shun the droplmist.

One, two! One, two and three.
Wave after wave and variuans,
With E. Rs on flame;
‘Twas not a virpual game.

So came three pharmers:
Fpiper, Starzen and Putnik who
Galumphing found the wocksine
And the wirld riched heard immanity a-gain.

'Twas brillig and the slavy humans
Did gyre and gamble
with panache and galore once more
But nothing was the same anymore.

In search of a new beginning;
Bare rocks and cutting edge dust dunes;
Frozen caps and veins of ice.
Pristine Marscape all around.

We start by leaving our parallel prints
As we sprayed our hands in the caves.

I like likes:

Curious LIKE the first glance of a newborn baby
Happy LIKE the Awakened Gautama Siddhartha
Free LIKE flying fish over the ocean
Infinite LIKE the first light ray at the Big Bang
Silent LIKE a gas chamber after a shower
Always on time LIKE death

I like likes but
Do they like me?

Art is a dart
that you aim at someone’s heart
and if you reach it vibes will start:
joy, sorrow or, maybe just a ****.
Then you'll feel a little bit smart
and think: well, this is art!