She is dust

She opens the door
Steps out of the colored room
Right onto the roof top
She wears her wings of sunrays
Jumps down the valley
In the speed of sound
Flies between the shy clouds
She looks for a companion
But the space is empty
She thought she wasn’t alone when she let herself jump
But her alter personalities betrayed her
Alone, she landed on a rainbow
Slid down
Down
Until its colors vanished
Until all became grey and white
Even her hair and nail polish
The journey that she saw ending in a blink of an eye
Proved endless to the outer world
But for her, she is who she was
No strings of time can change her
No gravity can pull her down
Flesh and blood she is, between earth and stars

Passive*

Dead as dead can be
My doctor tells me
But I just can't believe him
Ever the optimistic one
I'm sure of your ability
To become my perfect enemy

Wake up and face me
Don't play dead 'cause maybe
Someday I will walk away and say
You disappoint me
Maybe you're better off this way

Leaning over you here
Cold and catatonic
I catch a brief reflection
Of what you could and might have been
It's your RIGHT and your ability
To become my perfect enemy

Wake up
(Why can’t you?)
And face me
(Come on now)
Don't play dead
(Don’t play dead)
'Cause maybe
(Because maybe)
Someday
(Someday)
I will walk away and say
You disappoint me
Maybe you're better off this way

Maybe you're better off this way (×4)
You're better off this (×2)
Maybe you're better off...

Wake up
(Why can't you?)
And face me
(Come on now)
Don't play dead
(Don’t play dead)
'Cause maybe
(Because maybe)
Someday
(Someday)
I will walk away and say
You fucking disappoint me
Maybe you're better off this way!

Go ahead and play dead
(GO!)
I know that you can hear this
(GO!)
Go ahead and play dead
(GO!)

Why can't you turn and face me?
(WAKE UP!)
Why can't you turn against me?
(WAKE UP!)
Why can't you turn against me?
(WAKE UP!)
Why can't you turn against me?
(GO!)
You fucking disappoint me

Passive-aggressive bullshit...

by A Perfect Circle_


Q: Can a circle get any more perfect?
A: It can. As passive as you can get. Same shit. Passive-aggressive bullshit.

Bite the hand that bleeds*

I watch you tap the blood in my vein
My heart you feed on to keep you sustained
A parasite that leaves me cold and drained

I'm in shock and you leave me paralyzed
And the saddest part I realize
The absence of truth behind your eyes

I feel you tapping my soul from my vein
I feel you tapping again on my vein
I feel my life slipping away

One more drop of blood I spill
One more drop you take
One more drop and I will spite
And bite the hand that bleeds...

I see you have two faces turning
Changing face to keep me guessing
You have mastered the art of deceiving

Now I know no one trusts you
Now I know not even you do
And to think, you've salted my wounds

Now I know no one trusts you
Now I know no one trust you
Now I know your salt in my wounds

One more drop of blood I spill
One more drop you take
One more drop and I will spite
And bite the hand that bleeds

Bite the hand that bleeds you

One more drop of blood I spill
One more drop you take
One more drop and I will spite
And bite the hand that bleeds

Bite the hand that bleeds you
You...


* A masterpiece by Fear Factory

A materialized epitome of a dream.

Am I a tired person?

I don’t have an answer to that question, yet
There are some indicators though, some tangible facts
That can’t prove otherwise
I feel my cells degenerate
Not my skin cells, no
But those of my soul
Are those tangible enough?
The metabolism of my brain and thoughts
Once fast and high
Is now slower than a turtle
How can I know I am tired?
I squeeze my thoughts to write this post
Writing … which once was a natural process
Requiring no efforts from my lousy heart, mind or fingers
Is becoming a burden on my soul
A weight I can’t get rid of
I need to write to take the load off
I need to take the load off to write
Is that called brain metamorphosis?
Is it a natural process of aging?
Is it the lack of sunshine
Or the excessive clouds shading my soul?
Did I become that tired person I was constantly escaping from?

I steal people's thoughts

I enter the minds of random people
Sitting around me in a bar
I sneak into their tiny brains
Fetch my way through the colored threads
Of their most meaningless and their wisest thoughts
I tiptoe around
Looking for a unique idea, a mind blowing desire,
Or a long forgotten memory, in the blackest hole of their minds
And in a moment of revelation, I find one
And then I spend the remaining hour or so
Putting all my energy together
Trying by all means to pull that thought, desire, or memory
Out of their brains
To shape it into airborne words that land on their tongues
For a fraction of a second or two
And then I pull them out of their mouths, slowly
And I use those words to write my poems
That’s what I do to kill time
Sitting alone in a bar
Killing can be a fun process
And it puts together good pieces of words
One after the other,
In a useless poem

circle of disoriented haze

Mist*

I sit here and wait for something to happen
Fingers tapping on the desk
Mind wandering with the music in my head
Thoughts, flashbacks and imaginings
All trapped into one corner of my mind
Confusing they are
For I am not able to discern the dream from reality
And the memory from the desire
I want you to get inside my head
With those little fingers of yours
And take off this little fragment of my mind
Where all the thoughts and emotions are entwined
Take this little piece of mind, and put it in a plate right here on my desk
So that I pull out the different threads
Put those of the same colors together
And put them back in my brain
And get out of this state of oblivion
And start doing something
Instead of sitting here and waiting
For something to happen

At 25*

An attempt to draw the rambling of the incoherent thoughts visiting my mind very often lately...
There is much more to learn, much more to experience... much more to get hold of, even more to let go. At the end, it is what we do that defines us - and that keeps our memory floating in space next to the purple birds and on the minds of faithful souls. But are we really what we do?

We drift so much from who we are
We fail to find our true selves, by the end of the journey
Growing up, is an odd occurrence
Even odder, is maturing
Each age brings with it its own flicker
Sometimes it makes us smile, sometimes it makes us sad
Sometimes it is promising, other times it is pathetic
Each age has its colors and shapes
And those are reflected in our minds and on our skins
The layers add up as we grow older
Habits we acquire, knowledge we gain
Holes we fall into, mountains we climb on
Experience accumulated, as years pass by
But where is the “I”?
How would we know that who we are at this age, at this time in this space… is who we were born into?
Where is the essence?
There is a thin line between the truth and the total obliteration of it
Will we be able to ever draw this line?

After dark*

There is so much beauty in this world
So much left unseen
All it takes is a collective consciousness
Of two persons, three or four
Acting upon the spur-of-the-moment scheme
To get out of their shell
And go on wandering after dark

Let go of time, mind and norms
Let go of all carnal restrictions
Let go of daily routine
And endless traffic jams
Give yourself in to the pleasures of the night
Carelessly, euphorically
Like a fifteen year old

Only those with free minds and souls
Are entitled to see the beauty of the world