i opened my eyes
the room had turned smaller
walls closing in
air much more warmer

I lit up a mild
my mood anything but
scattered thoughts
one more cigarette stub

there was a small window
next to the mirror
there was no door to this room
how the hell did i get here

finally i open my hand
letting go of hers
the grip, muscles and veins
blood rushed in fast

liberated i felt
she dissapeared so quick
like a ghost in a hurry
my mind now not so thick

a deep breath dives in
my lungs exhale quietly
she was the muse for my verse
amused its over. it was terse.

we sat across, eyes entwined
our thoughts making love
i am not surprised
the pause, it got pregnant

the smile, the eyes
tilted head on the side
we did not need words
our bodies mere remnant

the sight and the smell
sounds of ground coffee
it broke the spell
we left the cafe repentant

standing on the edge
of this empty well
looking within i had planned
to end it all, maybe end it well

the deep bottom i see
is dry, parched and old
skeletons of desperate souls
my brothers who jumped before

the well was full once
brimming with the village soul
it quenched the thirst
was more than a watering hole

my body is weak and bone is dry
the thirst is gone
the lines on my face
tell my story wry

the rope still hanging
on the pulley loose
used to bring up water
now it has turned into a noose

How dare I
put pen to paper
talk about your god
with a caricature

this is where i laugh or cry
this is where i get scared
i am wondering now
who is really mad

i think i am losing it
i can’t see any difference
between a religion
or a mental institution

You are going to send me
to heaven or hell maybe
i get your message now
Oh this is blasphemy!

the moon it hides
behind the high rises
of this noise
bumps and grime

he probably knows
the evenings of the souls
getting plyed home
to their pigeon holes

for when he retires at dawn
they start again with vigour
dreaming of better days
they race without a trigger

hypnotized they seem
this rat race has no pity
careful not to blink here
this is maximum city

some days are empty
some days so full
i have become a sieve
filtering residual love

i get filled up with beauty
but the joy passes so soon
am left with memories clinging
on the perforations of my soul

wish i was impervious
or how i wish i was open
holding back or letting go
is such a heavy burden