Now

No longer
do I look back at the voices holding me back
crying out my name.
I plug my ears
and I
cry out
from the very depths of my soul,
with the ferocity of a storm
in the heart of the sun.
It echoes in the walls of these skyscraping mountains
as it makes its way
up to Olympus,
shaking its very foundation;
Shaking my own foundation.

Not on your earth or heavens
is there a place for me

You’ve grounded me and
I wish the sky was made of glass, so
I could break through it
in my nightly wanders,
in which I search for the days
my heart lost its innocence during,
turning me ancient and grey.

It was all a gamble and I
was doomed to lose from the get go
given the hand you dealt me:
Fire, ice and rage were not a winning combination.

No matter.

Now

I want to start anew, like a sentence after a period
so I’ll start.

Now

Sympathy for a Silent Death

It pains me
how idly we stand by and
apathetically watch
autumn leaves
die
on tree branches

That Is The Question

These days

crows migrate and
finches howl like wolves.
Wires grow out of the ground
and choke flower fields.

and here I am wondering

still

to be, or not to be?

Crushed Between the Distanes

I died yesterday

Like a black suit case
left behind, as you boarded a departing train
leaving, letting the dust off the tracks
glaze my standing corpse.

Suitcases are not a topic of conversation;
they all smell of death and decay.

Yesterday

I was left behind
and got crushed between the distances.

Don’t talk to me of suitcases.

I died yesterday,
and now, I wonder to myself:
how will I manage to bury all my dreams, and
fit them in the grave with me?

I’ve been dead
since you left

yesterday.

Pilgrimage

I walked here
barefoot,
and will do so from here on still.
The naked, blistered soles of my feet
will be my testimony
proof
of my pilgrimage.

You just keep on shining your shoe!