Who knows what I am seeing while I sleep and why my mind never allows me to remember but the fall
maybe its for my protecrion
the mind and the heart wants me here,
the soul wants to drift
to find other souls
people I ve never forgot
or lost
but laws of reality must be obeyed
and I must remain
here
maybe thats why travels never exited me this much
maybe I travel by moonlight too much
an old soul
I ve been around
A breath away

Ego,a world starts with a capital
We feed it with capital and emotion
Never Enough
Insecure like a child
Does not give his toy
Even to kindness
Will he bow to love
Just maybe.

when you are alone
and you ve got more time
in your hands
minute stretches to hour
Dreaded weekends
time enhances loneliness
and you face infinity
on your own
when the Sunday sun sets
from loneliness
in your house you hide
but it creeps in with the dark
it setlles on your bed
a silent partner
who connects us all

we have inside us
lives we havent lived
they demand existence from us
to be birthed
to be unveiled
and we do it in form of words
as a parent we bring them to page
never as perfect as we wanted
and when we look back at them after a time
is like they gave another meaning to their selves
seing in them secrets we wanted to hide
and unveil at the same time
genesis of worlds in themself
lyrical,stoic ,secret
our minds generates worlds,
a need to express our inner rythm
a child of our soul
taken life forever

In the vastness of my space
I write messages in the bathroom mirror
I adress them to myself
Hoping the next day
There will be something
To comfort me
in the warm mist,in the breath
but the next day there is no message for me
like my finger never touched the mirror
I strech my mind
in my houses square metres
living room,kitchen,bedroom
searching the least lonely one
I sit at the couch
thinking of people who could sit there
but the hot tea in my mug
Cant warm  my heart
as it exits my eyes transformed in tears

Like surgeons we cut people open
in search of their  faults
we pinpoint and extract them
for us to examine
only to find
the most repulsive of them
are our own

I want to pour myself on page
But I come across a cold landscape
the spark of electricity from me
attunes with that of the pc
In this digital world ,romance is lost
ink and paper relics to a insta post
Information overload cataclysm me
And I dont know how am I supposed to be
In the fringe of my consciousness my thougts reside
elusive,fleeting and hard to abide.
The cursor blinking mocks me
And in anger inspiration evokes me.
Maybe I ll make him my muse
And get inspiration whenever I choose.
This is how my poem is made
Like an emotional grenade.