Stress will never solve
Anything but
Running away
From imagined
Tigers
Quick Wisdom
Filled Up
I am a wessel
Nothing more or less
Filled with the garbage of our time
It’s hope, fantasies and illusions
I act upon what I understand
I bully myself upon the belief
That our unfortunate is
And that failure should
Be punished by death and misfortune
The religion of our times
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Options
Eternity is not an option
Not at all just one of many
Ways to measure
Your imagination
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The Other World
Found a new world
Beyond the corner
Another place
Very small but still
Somehow relevant
Another universe
With its own weird rules
A place for contempt and
Contemplation, freedom as well as
Frustration, fruition and fertile imagination
That place I thought was mine
Until someone took it away
Awaken me to the futile experience
We call reality
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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
Schibolet 