The god after my God

The fingers that paint my soul

The clouds that prevent my storm

Can you please send me to sleep where dream is the norm

And all deep pleasure is an infinite circle?

It is insane that a dreamer be considered unrealistic

When reality is so insane.

Although my breed is to enjoy all kind of pain in silence

I beg of you to send me back to my dreams

Where I live with no tangible emotion

Where I am able to wake up when it all gets too intense.

I am by no means asking you to decrease my spirituality

But to simply assist me in connecting with you so deep

that I am unable to flinch 5 seconds after my heart speaks.


I miss naivety, I miss sweet ignorance

I miss this edge of ambivalence

Where the mind was so innocent

Where I thought some wrongs were not all that bad

Where nothing could return and stay unless you wanted them to

And whatever cannot be seen do not exist

Really it is curse to know so much, and feel so often and so deep

In my mind I am barefoot, soul-naked, lost in the trance and sound of my own music

But my eyes are really looking at a blank screen

Where feelings are turning into words by the mechanical process of my touch

What a cruel reality?


And so I meditate, and I cling to you

As only you could understand the vivacity of energy unexpressed

And translate them into futile words that somehow alleviate this nothingness

I need a medium where everything is warm, steady and boring….a barely medium

I want the waves and none of the storm

The pleasure and none of the pain

The loud echoes of happiness, and none of the bad days

And maybe I will stop writing, and coming to you.

I refused to accept this premise with the forged conclusion

Craft me one out of the dreams I shared with you with the sweet blissful ending

The one I dare not speak aloud fear of the corruption of this air I breathe.


I love you so much

I wish you were enough

Every time I turn to you I feel embraced

I feel things you never allow me to find words for

But again you guide my fingers to note the ones expressing just enough

Such power you hold, forming those letters that turns my cloud into gentle breeze.