... UND DANN KOMMT WASSERIMMER MEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMER MEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMER MEHR IM MEER IMMERMEER IMMER MEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMERMEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMER MEHR IM MEERIMMER MEER IMMER MEHRUND IMMER MEHR UND MEHR IM MEER UND MEHR UMEHR UND IMMER MEER IM MEER UND MEHR UND MEHR IMMER MEHR IMMERMEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMER MEHR IM MEERIMMER MEHR IMMER MEERUND IMMER MEER UND MEHR IM MEER UND MEHR UMEHR UND IMMER MEHR IM MEER UND MEHR UND MEHR IMMER MEHR IMMERMEHR IM MEER IMMER MEER IMMER MEHR IM MEERIMMER MEER IMMER MEHRUND DANN KOMMT WASSER
93 ProzentMIT NICHTEN,KEINE AKZEPTANZ!NICHT MEINEGEHÖREN MIR.
NormalitaetWeil Knaben den Ball nachjagenUnd Mädchen die Puppen zupfenWeil Mutter am Herde stehtUnd Vater das Geld versteht.Noch nie gedacht zu hinterfragenWorin liegt der Nutzen?Weil man einfach nur das Leben lebtUnd doch niemand es versteht.
Yellow StrawberriesRot - blutrot, überall umfließt es mich, es ist ganz warm... Wo bin ich? Der Sternenhimmel ist so klar, keine Wolke am Firmament, dieser Ort, er kommt mir so bekannt vor... Die Sonne ist bereits aufgegangen, was habe ich nur gemacht? Der Sternenhimmel, so klar. Es ist so warm, ich will weiterschlafen."Schon wieder dieser Traum!", sprang Feae schweißgebadet aus dem Bett, er zitterte am ganzen Leib. Warum bin ich so verspannt? Es ist nur ein Traum. "Nur weil ich ihn nun fast jede Woche habe hat er doch lange nichts zu bedeuten, oder?". Feae hoffte, dass irgendwann einmal ihm sein Kater Hamlet, antworten würde. Manchmal überkam ihn das Gefühl, wenn er ihm lange in seine tiefen Augen blickt, könne er direkt in seine Seele schauen und all seine Gefühle und Ängste mit ihm austauschen. Feae liebt seinen Kater: "Du bist nicht so wie die anderen Katzen, du...", sein Mobiltelefon klingelte, Taria war dran. Beim Gähnen brachte er ein kläglic
Der SteinDer SteinDass "der" nicht sein kann,denn das "t" trennt ihn vom Sein.
Echo auf der WeideEcho auf der Weide - Sprachlos im FeldMit weit gerissenen Mündern,sie sahen mich an.Nicht da - um Schmerz zu lindern,begleiten mich im Wahn.
Fussgaengerzone"Alles um mich herum bewegt sich rasend schnell.Es dreht mich, doch bleibe ich still.Ich höre nichts ausser den Hall aus meiner Vergangenheit."
We are all artistsSometimes your mom asks you if you’re alright. Sometimes you’re very unsure of that question. Sometimes you know the answer, other times it swallowed deep in a dark pit so the only answer that comes out is “Yes, I’m fine.”You know your mother is worried. You can see the guilt in her eyes as if she’s done something wrong. You wish to scream its you and it isn’t her. She asks you if people at school have been bullying you, she asks you if there’s people online, she finally asks if its her.You know it isn’t her. You know its you.My name is Viktor, in the second grade I was that lonely weird kid at the playground. I was new and knew no one. Back then kids would say anything they wanted about the new kid as if they weren’t another human. As if they couldn’t hear you calling them a pig, a ginger snap, inhumane things that just made them ball up their fists.I have a severe fear of blood. In fourth grade, during my state tes
lotus bloom, mental health mind's eye she wipes the chalkboard clean, ever so slowly: listen to the pan flute play its melodic whistle the zither, with its spirited hum; the sparrow knows only the dawn as the mist hovers delicately 'neath its snowy peaks, and lo the cherry blossoms come
Our experience...Our experience and chosen perspective defines ourselves, not what we want from life..We each egotistically react to relative momentary opportunities and situations, which then define and determine the success and progress of our long term ideas or goals..Why do people always try to control the effects of our causes, instead of simply managing their causes? The process of interaction is such Cause Process Effect..If you don't like the effects, you must manipulate the direction and force of the cause to change the effect, then repair the damage done..Those who repeat the same action expecting a different result are logically insane, or seriously misinformed, ignorant, and arrogant..
The Secrets of LifeI dance with insanityGiving up my life in the afterglow of realityIt will always be the sameWe are born.Greedy demons who cry for moreCry for what they are unable to yet express want of with wordsAttention. Love. Food.They cry and cry and cryWe cry and cry and cryGreed is in our DNATo want all to our own and no one elsePossession of what we feel is oursFrom the air in the world we were just birthed into to the milk of our mother’s breastIt is ours, and no one else’s.We grow quicklyCurious cats who know not when to stopSniff for everything we know we do not knowWhat is life? What is love? What are we?They dig and dig and digWe dig and dig and digCuriosity runs in our genesTo discover the secrets of the universeFind everything this amazing Earth has to giveFrom the protists that hide in our waters to how far the ozone truly reachesWe search until it is found.We die slowly.Wise beyond the years we gainedListen to the absurd chitter of our baby birds
Sabor a MentolNos cantos sombrios da minha menteEla me encanta com uma melodia estranhaQuer minha alma só para ela, solenemente,Meu corpo fica calmo e ela se entranhaNão se deixem enganarA calma é tudo menos puraÉ o efeito do veneno que ela obriga-me a inalarAbandono o controlo e perco a posturaMeu corpo já não me pertence,Minha alma, não é mais minha,Fico apenas com um lembreteDe como eu era quando a tinhaTentei resistir e lutarFugir para longe delaMas meu esforço foi em vão e com o tempo a escassearMinha mente foi consumida por elaJá não chove ou faz solJá não choro ou sorrioSó as memórias de quem fui têm aquele familiar sabor a mentolGrito por ajuda, mas acho que já é tardio.
Litany Against Self-DoubtI do not allow self-doubt to rule me,nor will I be its servant.I instead use it as a tool,and it serves me.I always rememberthat it is a paper tiger,for my mind is my own.It has its place and function,and there it must remain:as a cautionary advisor,sitting at the foot of the throne.I always remember its true tasks:the last look before the leap,and the secondary check,so mistakes will not repeat.But it must not sap ambition,or poison motivation-or allow my minor mistakes,to be a source of permanent humiliation.And no matter what you might think,in the end, there's only the truth:Self-doubt is a tool.It was never meant to rule.
UntitledThere’s been a suicideA suicide they cried but no one heard themNo one hurt them the police report saysThere would be no trial for they thought the trials have already passed and they had failedAnd they had been hung out to dry.Hung. Hung from the raftersfrom ropes as frayed as their witsas split as their decisions when met with crisis.Hung like the jury in their heads that determined their worth.Hung from the balcony in plain sight but hidden from everyone that looks down on the world as if they were godsbecause they never bothered to tilt their heads back and see their sisters their brothers their fathers their mothers their goddamn children hung in front of them like human chandeliers whose candles will never be lit!A candleA candle, they can’t handle the candleThe candle light vigilthat will be heldAnd held are the thoughts such as“How could this happen?”“Why would they do this?”“What did we do wrong?”What did we do
alive againIt is goodTo feelalivea g a i n
Untitledyo this moon has a grin, and much to my chagrin, i'm thinking i actually want to win. Much to my relief the night hath bequeath a sense of goodwill, so i'm going to sip, nah chug till I've had my fill or untilthe sun hits my window sillstillI can't seem to comprehend why this world seems to warp, to twist and bend, and all the while I always lend to enemy, acquaintance and friend,these harps, these strings, these meaningless things of which my patience doesn't seem to mend I know I know one day I'll meet my end.But until thenI shall rejoice in the sound of an imaginary voice telling me that I'll find my match some day.That at the beginning, I may not have had a prayer of winning. not a crutch to lean on not even much of a reason, to live fight or die, but always.always, I try.Whether angry, insane, happy or sad, life is never as badas it seems,appears, or even written in vain dirty looks, I always got what I took with a long albeit bloody stride, and I may have left foot print
UrsprungIch vermisse mich selbst.Mein altes Ich, vor 7 Tagen.