Such reckless desire, impulsive, suffocating. Vain puppets without emotion, without humanity. My delicate wings flutter. I fly away and leave this place behind.

Mist drifting aimlessly. Floating through air. Midnight mists remain in dusty morning light shining through rain-stained window. Covered in white pure sheets she lies, occupying her mind with dark thoughts, recreating the night, the stars and moon.

“Don’t give up. Follow your dreams.” Last words on your only letter. Did you follow your dreams? Did they change or did you give up on them? How do I know if I’m still following mine?

Wide Tender Universe Longing for an Aeonic embrace dark matter of ages endless particles shining body dissolves into time space radiant photons align as one the secret is revealed through the archives vortex of collective memory chronicles of time move backwards elements dead and reborn melting in loving heat nothing truly lost Eternal space Life on earth Lonely Small

There is no way out, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. You've trapped yourself in endless nightmares, in the darkness of your soul. Whatever you did, it will follow you, one day it will catch up to you, get a hold of you, suffocate you. What is that little spot on your pure heart? Have you tainted yourself without knowing what you did? Whatever it was - it will come for you.

In the darkness, steel shines. Dancing in the cold, a sharp blade, dancing with death. Oh, feel the blood, boiling with cold anger, with pride of a thousand generations born for battle, but never satisfied. The earth craves, it craves for life, for the boiling blood of warriors.

Outside my window the wind is howling. Rain is sparkling in the dark of night. The dark green trees shake their branches and dance in the blackness. Sweet music flows from the river. As I look out I see my old friend - withered branches twisting and winding magically. And under his scraggy branches I see the fairies dancing. The leaves tumble around them, adorning their feast. Oh, how I wish I could be part of their enchanted world.

Sun is shining lazily through the trees. The heat of the day is fading. The soil beneath my feet is warm and soft, as I walk towards he clearing where my home is built. A fire has been lit on the wide clearing. The smoke greets me and the flames pay tribute to the setting sun. Evening has come and I smell the freshly baked bread. After a hard days' work my love meets me to greet me with a gentle kiss as we dance through this midsummernight.

I am aware of myself. I feel every thought running through my mind, cutting clearly through my brain. The world moves fast, but I move faster. One step ahead, ready for anything - come at me, world. Gathering information, filling my head with it - knowledge is power and I am gaining. I am aware of my surroundings. I am aware of myself.

There lies magic in words, winding and climbing around letters, disclosing beauty behind ink drops, whole worlds created by the streak of a pen, to capture human souls and trap their minds in an illusion. Or is it one?

Music echoes from the empty halls of my mind, sounds populating the meditative temple if the people on the streets were real why would death lead us towards the golden lights again the void that fills the soul is filled with laughing crowds sauntering the roads of endless thoughts into the warm oil light homely radiant electricity we wander like moths into the fire fire of grey days isolated, physically, banned from the world, and the mind holding onto the illusion of company electric bleeps is all we have dancing by candlelight when I close my eyes in the glowing radiant night with the stars smiling upon us glowing with the million fires of the night unknown season has arrived no end in sight no way to release our screaming souls shouting madness skywards with all the epiphanies of the potted brain shouting into the madness for the wise one to discern and to connect his soul with our soul to have one single soul fully at your disposal when the day resurfaces

Burn the knowledge of years. What is wisdom, what are books to a young lover, a wanderer of worlds, of dimensions? He will fill them again, fresh ink on old pages, the same story reinvented, reimagined.

As summer quickly approaches we gather the flowers, awe pick the blossoms, we wreathe the crown. Barefoot the wild hunt begins. A flurry of legs treading, sweeping over the ground. Hear the sea gushing, bathed in a dying sun's blood. The foam of her waves beckoning. The fires have been lit. Hear the music playing, dancing feet, faster and faster, as the instruments fade, the maids are chanting and wise women are breaking the night. Moonshine in their eyes they solemnly tread the ground, wild and knowing eyes, heavy with summer nights.

Pick up the garbage from the city streets and bring it to a hopeless glory.

So many thoughts tornadoing through my head, storming through my brain, all those worries and every day seems to keep them piling on. And all I can do is sit and wait and hope all will be fine. And as I lie on my bed, ceiling spinning against all the worries, I think that maybe I shouldn't have tried, maybe I shouldn't hve thought I'd deserve anything, that I'd ever be living the life I thought I was living. And maybe the sun left with all my energy and all my good luck and everything else that left me, so I'm lying here and staring, burning heavily inside, an angry fire, burning all my insides, everything that's still there, burning, burning, burning. And all I can do is turn into the ashes of myself and wait for resurrection.

A train or trail of thoughts unspoken, beautiful minds spinning and broken, embraced by embroidered words spoken, take as a honorary token glimmering shards of hopeful glimpses.

Smoke swirling up, spirals form towards the stars, turn my eyes inward. Sweat is dripping from my brow, intoxicated with the rhythm, drums and humming. My mind moves through the veils of this world, through the night and the stars, the seas and ancient wells, through the heats of summer-fire, nourished and nurtured by the dark soil, earth and rock.

There is fire in you as you dance, you dance through night and stars and life, a life filled with flaming desire and all you desire is freedom, freedom to warm your soul on fire.

High up in the sky, the rising of the moon has come. Spreading her lavish garments of shimmering, flowing silver over the velvety night sky and surrounded by starry gems. She pours her light out, to fall onto earth like a waterfall cascading in the shadows, in the comfort of night. She pours her light onto secret lovers, moving seas and oceans with her power.

When I was young I was often told to empty the dishwasher. We had lots of knives at home, big and sharp ones. When I was young and when I was alone, emptying the dishwasher, I often held the knives a little longer than I should have, before I put them away.

8 eternal endless double death around and around where did the world disappear to?

My love is a red river, full of blood, passionately tearing at its banks, widening, wildening, carrying dark soil. Hold the golden moon, hold it between your palms and let its light cascade down onto the earth, onto the blooming trees. I don't need you, my hands are cold black marble, not warmed by any sunlight, but warmed in the hot waters of my red river. Dip my hands into my love, the blood of my soul, the silent screams of the night.

Silent side street, barely lit alleyway. Away from the crowds, you scream into the night, wailing at the moon. And as your soul becomes silent you wonder how many people could be saved if the world was just a little kinder.