Esoteric Matter

Snow is a strange thing

Somewhat surreal

Out of this world

When it comes in masses

Obliterating every life form

Purifying and destroying

In its terrible beauty

Going North makes one remember

What Winter used to be like

That feeling when your hands

Slowly turn red than white

And you know is not good

Choices

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Writing is power

The good illusion of power

That we have power

When we make a choice

A choice we believe

We make even if

Someone, something else

Decide

Sleep

Late at night

When the consciousness

Begin to falter

Wither and finally

Pass into sleep

I realize what a blessing

It is to be relieved of the

Burden of conscious thinking

So rigid and so lost in

What is and

Always has been

Safe

It’s a good feeling

For the very moment

This is all going

To change

But the night

Is the time

For free thoughts

And mad thoughts

The sleeping people

Cannot hear us

Nor read our

Minds

No hope

This is the day
When I am going
To pay for my
Deeds
I don´t care
It does not
Matter
Anymore
I don´t care
About your little world
The place that is always
In perfect order

My chains

Why is life so painful
why is everything so ugly
why am I here
My chains 
has linked me
to other people
that wil never
let me go
even after their own
bodies has decayed 
and decomposed
In my mind they are
alive and still fresh
I hope things will
change
But this is not 
likely to happen 
anytime soon 
therefore I have
lingered in the darkness
of my soul
I have hidden in their mind
living their life for them
I will not anymore
even though I will not be free
I will always try be me
and try to be free

but they are 

Timewise

Back to reality

I am a bad person
by definition
I am a man
and

I exist
 therefore…
am I bad
I do need
to excuse my self
and my pitiful
existence

To everyone I meet and
everyone I hurt by being me
I need to listen to how bad I am
there are no excuses

Empty like the empty street
I stand all alone in the snow

Inside my withered heart
Soon my temple will be gone
and forgotten
The wind will carry away
the memory
And the water will the void
of what was once me
That will be freedom
And I will no longer need
to excuse myself and my
existence