You find yourself in the same place again.

You find yourself unable to cultivate any real emotions or reactions

You find yourself unable to comprehend why it doesn’t hurt anymore.

You find yourself truly blessed to be in that state now where nothing matters.

You find comfort in the nothingness of it all

You find yourself finally free from who you took pride in being.

You find yourself safe with this familiar stranger


Yet Another Tree

Let forgiveness grow a tree for all the children who can never be .

For if tomorrow we envision , we nonetheless may never see.

Let our shadows plunge this tree deep so deep for even after our souls disintegrate, we can never feel free.

Let there be a bank on the side of this tree for every parched that roams its way.

Let a mockingbird peck a way inside switching despair with innocence in a whiff of air

Let all the unborn rejoice for not knowing what its lack can ever feel.

And to make sure this tree will remain clean let there be no heaven, no hell, no resurrection and no blood flooding in its way.

A god must not touch this tree to bliss for a devil to pass by and catch a glimpse.

People must not question if their children playing around this tree are clean or righteous but must only taste their light and embrace the everlasting brightness they can’t see nor feel.

And finally if we ever dare to grow such tree let there be no lumberjack charging in its way poking our sights , shaking our grounds and making us see.

And if his axe and fury we can’t escape then let there be fairies on top of our tree that can sew silk , grow pearls and manufacture lucid dreams for us to believe and endure every nightmare reality forces upon us every second it’s begging to breathe. To just breathe.


For some of us things may never change. May never get better. May never resolve. For some of us that is the way it is. The way it was. The way it always will remain. And when some of us then dare to believe otherwise. Imagine a reality where good things may just be around the corner, only to be yanked back against the old hard cold wall of the only reality there is even stronger than ever. Well,, then maybe some of us only have themselves to blame. For things have always been persistent and never deceived them to be of anything but that nature. So give up or you will find yourself working even harder to only once again end up where you never left. And never will. It will consume you either ways and you will never be happy, at least not until you realize you can’t mourn the loss of something you never had. That is true for some of us anyway.

Have it all 

You can have your god . You can have your faith . You can have your explanations that explain absolutely nothing but supply you with the excuse to move on. and you can have your senseless trust. You can choose to embrace yourself with this false sense of security and you can choose to decide and believe that everything happens in your favor as long as you believe even when they don’t, it is just better to repeat . You can ignore the truths screaming inside of you and all around you like you ignore the screams of those less fortunate and blessed than you . You can choose all of this and more and you can call yourself a true believer and a winner . You can choose all of this but it is only a choice that you have and that is more than a lot can say. And perhaps in that regards you are blessed to be born at an ignorant time where stupidity is rewarded and ignorance is praised as courage and strength. Hallelujah to all of us. And thank you god for your infinite kindness and for once again helping me find my wallet. So blessed .  


Down the third aisle you can stroll if you want to find some trolls giving away the jewels  

That aisle can hide the truth         

Like a child and a fairy stealing his tooth

Down that aisle we shop for smiles Pearly white, and perfectly aligned 

Down the third aisle we ask no proof to be filed                                 

No identification. We are never defiant 

Down the third aisle we each get a cart 

We shop till we drop 

Down another hole , another stage prop 

To be back in that place 

The third aisle where we are all packed and stacked 

Perfect cardboard boxes, freshly cut plastic smells. Awaiting the price tag for one’s denial. 

down the third aisle they can shop for us in piles 

If we just close our eyes , recite our  hymns and, pray for our buyers.