Projections

Making the journey

Through the city

Filled with cars and concrete

Dirty snow and drug addicts

In the dark corners

Slowly melting away

Leaving the gravel behind

A tired sun behind the clouds

Creating a tepid light

In late afternoon

Ensuring the cycle of life and death

The city break us down slowly

Piece by piece

Replacing and recreating

People and values

While the losers

Enacting people’s frustration

Projecting my their fear and

Frustration into the empty space

Stories

Living in the era of

Storytelling

A story is always true

A story is sometimes false

It does not matter

Truth-seeking is best not made

By believing in stories

They are readymade fables

” I started poor and had to work my

Way up from the floor”

Do never question this because

Reality might make the beautiful

Myth crack in the most awful way

Answer to Shame

I am on the run

From the shame of being

Such a bad father

Being such an incompetent son

And impotent lover as well

No one loves my soul

I am so bad

And I am so tired of being

Projected as bad for not fulfilling

Other people’s dreams

I am not bad

Just the answer to your projections