My words are escaping
while I try to scape from them.
Trying to define myself, without tune myself,
free emotions like death leaves
with no bounds or branches.
Like free rivers
of moving thoughts
falling like red wine
from the green bottle neck,
on the carpet,
through the throath,
over the white sand
the words are escaping
and now
i go with them,
white words
where i find beauty
or dark words,
evil dreams ,
grayed dreams or colorful,
cries knotting the throath,
scars all over my skin,
in my hands,
in my eyelids,
in my heart,
heating the blood,
my blood,
spreading so noisy
with no shame,
barefaced my words escape
while I escape of this world.

nothing but a rental
my body, I'm left empty-handed
windows shattered, broken doors
violent breeze pushes forth
I am abandoned

my lips swollen
all the way down to my throath
I'm frozen
not allowed  to sing another note

tender galaxies
stretch across my delicate skin
stars bursting, they're screaming in pain
creating infinite life, where shadows remain

Let us bloom under the moonlight
Like withered flowers waiting patiently for their roots to grow back
For the night is the only time of the day
Or the day is the only time of the night
When life stretches itself and memories become vulnerable to the light
The eyes roll and turn
They strike face to face with the brain
In front of a thousand whispers
A thousand cries
Rotten kisses and gullible lies
Stroke a shell on the searing sand
Every little grain shivers against its neighbor
And the whole beach arouses to the perturbation
A stranger yet so inoffensive
But even microscopic acarines
Whirl in the wind of a sneeze
So before starting to snap your tongue on the roof of your mouth
Catch your words in your throath
And taste them
Guzzle
Do not forget their savor
Catch them fast
If you are not as swift as a tender breeze
You will swallow your own thick tongue
You will become your words
And these words will reflect you
A big satisfying outcome
How solemn would it be
To dance to the rhythm
Of your baked coal heart
Drumming on its cage

There are words stuck in the back of my throath
that I wouldn't dare speaking. Sentences formless,
water kept below boiling point. My tongue a
sharpened claymore. It's reach long,
it's swing heavy. Yes, I am a dangerous man.
Wielder of the most powerfull weapons.
My pen writes, shifting balance of words
influencing reality, developing perspective
of readers who don't tread carefully.
This is my space, in here I rule supreme
in here I create what no one could re-create.
Look through my mask and ask yourself
if it's not another mask. A man with layers
I go deep, with thoughts and feelings
I am weak, so I acknowledge what I see
What I see is you, despite you wanting to.
What you feel is what you do.
What you do is what you show
So what you show is what you feel
and what  you feel is the warmth of me
acknowledging you.
The illusion of distance, it is me
being next to all of you!

I don't know what to say actually.
I know that a want to say so much that my throath hurts.
But I don't know what.
It's so much, like a huge protest march.
It wants something that I just can't give in to.
It wants to scream, hate, love and cry.
Sometimes it even wants me to give up.
But I will continue, just because I know that there is a point when the dam will break.
And that I finally know what burdens me.
But untill then I keep my head up and keep it that way.

Untill dam will break, I will live in the valley beneath it.
And if the dam has broken down.
I will make a new one and go to the next valley.