we accuse each other of living mediocre lives almost posting about it thinking it could be funny we are quite content actually with our heroic hearts and our unfulfilled fancy dreams have a sense of fulfillment because of so but if we are not satisfied we could still write a poem with perfect freedom to see through thus — - for…

The wind blows down the riverbed, there’s no water in it now. I’ve gone over the fence. I sit on the River, on the sand. The wind is the only thing flowing but I know there’s water underneath going to the sea. The sand is rough with hard white flecks…

I wasn’t very good at writing though I thought I could be, even great, but still I wrote “Ruth” or “Rita” with all my heart until I…

I get older and I stop believing in anything. Or believing I can do anything normal. Like I can’t be natural, I can’t go anywhere and be relaxed and not thinking something. Always making up some boring bullshit mental activity. And it is true, yet false. I do think too…

i did this for many years as if speaking words to someone but it was just an empty room

and leave you behind