I love how nobody reads this

there could be times and feelings that never had to exist in the first place.

NO, NOTHING IS CERTAIN, NOT ANY MORE

Perhaps

I've never had a calling to be something other than the feeling I have to run away from everything.
And these days it's getting harder to get my shit together and not leave everyone behind with their thoughts to haunt them. And I wouldn't even care, I'd look for the most beautiful thing I can see and I would want to die in that moment. This feeling surpasses everything and I can't even get it in to words properly. It may make me irresponsible, but I need to be what I mean to be.

Perhaps, I like that word. So perhaps, it's one of those days. Or perhaps it's the winter.

Never shall you fake sadness as you could do happiness. The pure chill against the smiling gift.

To approve or disagree, is to want and not be free.
Only in solitary does the spectator emerge.
Able to see and feel, these worlds are bigger than us.
Yet set astray and thus they flee to come undone.

life made obligatory

I'm fading.
Into a world of nothingness.
The weight of my flesh and the wish to be dust.

I think we're all destroying love, just by having to know what it differs from.
And it's all probably a flaw in our nature. A side-effect of procreation.
It is, deceased. Until, like the phoenix, it returns, just to die another time.

Here we are. Where only now is forever.
And I could die without regret.

I'm not sure about love, but I am desperately searching.
And somewhere, where time ends, it begins.
Out of them all, you make me care.
So illusion or not..

Answer questions with questions.
Infinite potential comes with ever-growing knowlegde.
For it is curiosity that stirs the mind, makes us wonder and makes us imagine.

Trusted lover or total stranger

Verraderlijk, veranderlijk.

Ik en mijn vijand. De oneindige liefde.
De geborgen leugen. Telkens opnieuw.
Hemels vol met regenbogen, wat kan dat voor een leven zijn?

Bazen en zaken, verlaten als hazen, de mensen die jou op stang jagen.
Verloren in hopen, massa's die lopen, kopen en alles verkloten.
Dit is genoeg, het einde des dagen, ligt voor de boeg.
Ga maar gaan staken, voor alles een kreet slaken.
De hoop die je ziet, is gedoemd.

Niemand kent mij. Dat is mijn ondergang.
Dat is onmogelijk.

"All we ever see of stars are their old photographs."

I'm screaming for the illusion to arrive.
All I get are dusty images from the past.
The future I predict for myself is no sweet sight.
I'm either dead or alive.

Maybe I'll stop convincing myself that this is it.

The smallest heart

Everything known, diminished by the only thing that is wanted.
The image of a love, an everlasting incantation, swaying back and forth.
With all and none, the loading breath composes its own end.
The silhouettes are the dream itself, transformed to a vivid spectacle of friction.

A moment observed.

The sun erased, a cold embrace.
A freezing stance, a wish fulfilled.
Daily enquiries initiate a haze of thought.
The light ridden temple has been corrupted.

In the love you seek and the heart you feed. I am not your man.

In the hope you keep and the souls you reap. I am not your man.

In the hate you seed and the poison you bleed. I am not your man.

In the signs I behold, the seal I'd become.
To lie and tell the truth. I am not your man.

I can't imagine being human any more.

There is no such thing as an adult. What we see here, are kids in big bodies.
Kids with the brain of a full grown person. Dangerous mixture to say the least.
Though I've had my doubts if this will ever improve, that our consciousness is willing to evolve..
This is what has to happen and we probably won't have to do a thing about it.

I see this fake economy collapsing but I can't figure out why an elite group would want this.
People in control must be smart enough to really realize that it's about power. Not pieces of paper.
We'll soon find out. I can feel it, but I could be wrong.

I can think and I do that a lot. But I can't speak nor talk. It's getting harder and harder to pretend. I do this because it feels like every one I know is a child of mine and I have to take care of them. I'm done, the love and hate relation doesn't even matter. Everything I imagined is still bullshit. But it's all I ever was. Nothing and everything.

In the dirt digging river, that runs to the sea.
Sun rays that urge, the surface is tense.
By water as vapour, the mire runs deep.
Struggling muscles, levy the sludge.
Alas, there's no reason, the edge is too steep.
The circle is round, in what we conceived.

Yearning for nonexistence

Whatever it is you make me to be, it's dying.