Snow

The snow is falling

The world changes

It is not the same

Patterns gets disrupted

And cars drive off

The road

The white noise

Calms the anxious

Suburbs and

Warm fires can be found

At dusk

The world is a cold place

Lights in the graveyard

The world is a cold place

Filled with people

That strive

To do something

Even if only to drink

Busy with themselves

Lost in the periphery

Left over from

Another era

I look for the light

But find in the most

Strange and peculiar

Places

Dark Matter City

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The city is dark

A dark matter

That is mine

The rain stopped

Falling

Giving a break to

Frozen walkers

All the grey people

Passing by in my

Everyday life

Losing my keys

For a moment

I feel not welcome

Anymore

The night approaches

Being even colder

It will take time before

The light returns

Corner

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In this lonely corner

I am all by myself

Seeing life passing by

Lost my meaning

Long time ago

Fear is gone

Hope is gone

Pictures moving

Aroud

What life should be like

At a certain age

But I am still here

Like a boy

 

Reach out

Trying to reach out

But this is not possible anymore

The walls are to thick

The windows gone

Just the echo of my own

voice moving around

in my head

Creating strange thoughts

Though very vibrant

And real

I try not to listen

Not to understand

Not to do more

The shell

This empty shell

That I turned into

Hidden from

The world of misfortunes

Makes life very lonely

But I do not want

Anything to do

With anyone

Just hiding

In my room

For the rest

Of my life

Flair

Trying to forget

Who I am and why

The night is full of options

Even though it is cold here

I am hallucinating green and blue flowers

In a dessert landscape

On the bottom of the sea

I am floating

Happily until

Morning

Origami

The night relieves me temporary

Of my fear and anxiety

I will lose a lot of things

The next few days

But I do accept

This

Because I know the love will end

The world as we know it

That makes me rest in my own

Mindlessness and sleep

 

Not here

Low, low

Almost underground

I write my poem

At evening, at night

At times when I realise

That the only thing

I can do to keep my

Self sane is write and writ

Into eternity

Far, far from here