The Redirector

Rewriting the future

By forgetting the past

Everything gets disappears

Into the great fog of lost memory

The ground still remains

As well as the laws of nature

Just more incomprehensible

Than ever

A Better World

Dreaming of a better world

Where we don’t

Have to live in fear

Of losing, fear of

Not being accepted

Without starvation,

Without repression

A world of light, a world of darkness

Like a paradox, a conundrum

The answer is not in the dream

But beyond it, far of in another future

Where we all meet again

The Ocean

Life on a raft

Is dull and boring

Filled with duties

And repetition

Sleepless nights

And days without

Sleep or hope

Of redemption only

The few moments of dreams

At night saves our life

Liminal

The phase between being awake and dreaming

Passing in between lines

Crossing borders

Breaking the limits

Of memories and desires

Never to be fulfilled

Between the dream and being awake

Knowing my limited

Abilities

That there will be no sunrise for me

Dreams Matters

The will to live is strong

So strong

Maybe it will

Triumph

Or not

Never mind

The end is so near

I don’t mind h

Here in the underworld

Dreams turns into

Matter

Naked Boy

Being naked in the city

Is not that pleasant

Not in January

At least

My friend told me

I woke up one day

In a dark alley

And had to look

For my clothes

At least some

Rags or a plastic bag

To cover me

People laugh or ignored me

Eventually I manage to

Sneak in a take the subway

Home to my dreadful suburb

And just as the train passed

The bridge

I woke up soaked in sweat

Not a pleasant dream

But at least I know

What to do if I wake up

Naked in a dark alley

Getting Lost

To wiggle thorough existens

To get lost somewhere

Another bar, library, beach

Anywhere for the peace of mind

Closing the eyes

And enjoy

Monsters

Fighting unlikely monsters at night

In my mind

They have strange shapes and forms

No peace of mind

And speaks my language

Only agony remains here

The end not in sight

That’s it

But not quite

Hollow creatures

Moving up and down

The walls of my cell

Prisoner of the mind

Chained to a surreal reality

That might exist

Or not