The Door

Putting all my energy into getting things done

Getting out through the door

To the shiny winter landscape

So white and threatening

Just leaving home take such an effort

I do not like it at all

Freedom will come at a high cost

Staying in the comfort zone

Will not bring it at all

Hell Monday

This is a bad day

It is the Monday from

Hell, extracting your soul

Out of the societal machinery

You will soon be grind to powder

And eaten by the cows

Nobody loves you

And if they do they want you

To be loved to lobotomisation

As well

Kiss, kiss

To the Other Side

I need to be aggressive

And fight myself through it

I don’t know how

Just that I have to

In order to get out on

The other side

Which I don’t know

What it looks like

The Metaphysics of a Dream

The dream is always there

However hopeless,

Even if it looks like a dirty

Poster on the floor in the subway

Trampled by hundreds of boots

I am still here above all that

And slowly we come together

Again and again

Like a strange dance

On a grey Sunday morning