Careful where you stand in this maze
Don’t reach out too early or stay still in the haze
Be confident of your thoughts
Be knowledgable of your black dots
Make sense of everything that needs to make sense
Listen to everything that needs to be listened to
Straighten up.
Cheer up. 
Chin up.
You’re almost there. 

Where am I?
Why am I here?
What am I supposed to be doing?
When will I know my purpose?
How did I get here..?

Are we all made of star ash?
Are we all made of Mars sand?
Are we all just.. nothing?

Are we all just myths risen from the sand, as he quoted?

Who are you?
Why are you reading this?
What are you asking yourself right now?
Pressure? Love? Hate?
Are you lost?

So am I. 

Soft as the piano melody
whispers in your mind it perceives
little as the atom of the clouds
symphonies as old as stone.
Beautiful, life, isn’t it? 

Unmeasurable vines of ash surround the death-seeking flower
It sways to the song of the wind and the music of the rain
The Earth stood still.
Nothing moved. 
Silence.

The skies tumbled and the stars shot in different directions
The sun nothing but a mere shine in the smokey sky.
Gravity swung the flower up into the air.
It danced as it broke away, atom by atom.

The black hole stripped it into thin air.
Nothing was left of it
But the remains of the collision.
 

The fire danced around; stinging my eyes,
I stare into the flame.
The dreams surfaced as the hopes stayed in disguise
That one candle, it was my aim.

I glanced nervously at the 15 candles all lit
What do I dream of? I want? I need? I wish for?
I inhaled. Tried to fill in my lungs a bit.
I couldn’t find a single open door.

Woosh. The fire evanesced.

What was it like before I knew I was nothing?

Before I knew that life was too short
Before I knew that there were certain things you couldn’t have
Before I knew that there were certain things you couldn’t do.

I don’t even know why I’m writing.
I don’t know how this would change anything.
But I still do it.
I still do things for my pleasure and only for that.

I do things for the sake of doing things.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop running.
I don’t get tired but my heart’s racing.
 

She was one of a kind,

The type you only read in fairy tales,

The type you only see in movies.

She breathed fire.

She spoke of poetic symphonies.

She is the exquisite piece of glass.

She shines in the darkness of pitch-black dreams.

But she has no name.

She has no identity.

She is nothing, no one, doesn’t own a soul.

She is the picture you created.

Close your eyes
 I say to myself. 
Close your eyes and everything will go away. Disappear.
What happens once we fall into this.. this state of unconsciousness?

What happens the second our mind decides its time to shut down.
What happens when we no longer feel anything?
What happens to our minds to create such beautiful images we call dreams? 

Sleep. Sleep is the word. Sleep is the mad disease we go into when we are tired.
Tired of everything.
Tired of the world.
Tired of the people.
Tired of being you. 

Tired of being tired. 

It stood there, alone.
Its wings clipped,
Nothing was left of it.
Yet it still stood there, alone.
Its feathers thirsty for friction.
Hungry for the freedom every particle in it wanted.

It spoke of nostalgia, that thing,
Told of the princesses of the moon.
Its destination was nowhere.
All it wanted to do, to be,
to see, to hear,
to taste, to feel,
to eat, to drink,
was freedom.

Electrocuted lightning, you were.
Just a simple thought, floating above the atmosphere of the horizon.
Fidgeting.
Picking the plastic strings on a stringless guitar.
One by one.
Playing a melody without music.
Being someone without being someone.
Playing a game that isn’t a game.
Singing a song that has no notes.

Breathing. Breathing without breath. Breathing from within your soul, you breathe.

You breathe through the eyelids of your heart. The ears of your brain. The hands of your lungs. The lips of your eyes.

Protect that electrocuted thunder-like heart. 

Maybe I’m mentally disabled.
Maybe I’m the villain who wants everyone dead.
Maybe I’m the supporter but I always failed.
Maybe I’m just a person in the crowd- A mere ghost.
A Shadow.
A Crack in the ground.
A Lost tear.
A Wingless bird.
A toothless shark.

But I’m still here, alive, well, hopefully.
But I’m still breathing, dreaming, hopefully.
But I’m still believing.
But I don’t know what to believe anymore. 

Every piece of the masterpiece vanished from its whole

Her words disintegrated into the depths of her soul

buried under regret, hesitation, frustation

She lived off words of humiliation

The bones in her knees tickled her skin

As though she was breaking down, even from within

She spoke clearly but low

No one heard her, not even a crow

A gashed, demolished rose

she crouched into her only leftover clothes

Night after night, she traced her fears

only to notice she had them redesigned,

polished with blood from her tears

These are the words of the broken, the shattered, the forgotten.

These are the vows of the fearful, the childish, the demons.

These, these are the voices of the unwanted, the dramatic, the soulless.

Let me introduce to you

the anti-social fool

the misunderstood truth

the time of the disadvantaged youth

unaccepted lies interfere the dreams.

Held against semi-killers and thieves

She couldn’t foresee the question

standing mid-waisted in the tension

her arms embrace the forbidden space

her steps remained uncoiled, non-traced.

Being the protoplanet around her heart,

pretending she had a brand new start

Overwhelmed with strain

transported by the subways of pain

defrosting the frozen luck,

looking supernatural, unaccepted, being the ugly duck.

Yet she was wing free and flying

Her dreams seize to live, her lies dying. 

Inhale.

The soft wind’s wings flew across my lips as they barely touched my tongue

drying the words and unspoken truth that wanted to be sung

I no longer hear my heartbeat, nor feel it, nor want to.

Exhale

The hot fires of the burned out wings rush out past my lips

Only to be the sailor of all the sunken ships

Giving in; giving up

My heartbeat returns, but I don’t want it to stop.

Breathing.

She lives to be, not to wish

The fear in her eyes only a sign of freedom

Her lips sacred with wisdom

Only to show you, and the whole man’s kingdom,

She is here. She is wise. She is a dreamer.

Rage against the power of awakening

She silently glided down the path of fears

testing her skill with the killer

winning the game, yet no game is a game,

she only whispered

I am here, I am wise, I am a dreamer.

Dreaming dreams drained what she foresaw

For everything around her became nothing but reality

she didn’t know reality.

She refused to be reality.

She only asked reality itself

Are you here? Are you wise? Are you a dreamer?

But all reality said was,

I am your dream.