Into Two

Pull me here
Push me there
Press the buttons
Grind the gears

All my thoughts
All my fears
All I see
All I hear

They push me pull me
Here n there
Through this fog
Nothing seems clear

But there is always a place
Where I can hide
Where I don't have a face
And I don't choose a side

It's always me alone
In the end
The game is already fixed
No matter how much we pretend

---

This is about fate.

Thanks, you know who you are.

the art of doing nothing

there is a certain perverse joy
in sitting and staring at a wall
with no concern, no thought
no fear of the future at all

even if the future is crawling
after you at its slow pace
you can just sit and stare at your wall
just resign from the rat race

the art of doing nothing
it takes years to master
but once you've got the hang of it
you can do nothing faster

stare at walls long enough
the walls start staring back at you
when you want to do nothing
there is nothing you can do

Termites

The man looks perfectly okay on the outside

His skin is shiny with sweat of hard labor

All his afflictions, he manages to hide

He hides everything he abhors 

Beneath his skin, his life is a war

He speaks heathen prayers, alone

His soul ripples, filled with scars

For him, there is no home

At night he sleeps a dreamless sleep

He feeds his fears to the termites

They crawl under his skin deep

He used to, but now he never fights

The man looks perfectly okay

Inside him, his bones are rotten 

He fades away one fine day

All alone, forgotten

The Darkness Engine

I have an engine where my heart should be

It's running on my blood 

I'm puking smoke from one end

Fire from the other

These fucking chains?

They cannot hold me!

I will break through them

Like a comet streaking across the dying night sky

This engine seeks no destination

The real fun is the chase, not the catch

Forged in the fires of creation

Its fire was lit by the first match

The power that made me

Is the power that will break me

Nothing else can or will stand in my way

I will go on forever, always

I will ride these black roads into the dead lands

I will go beyond the city of souls

I will rush through the screaming hoards of hell

I will not stop, even for heaven

Till the speed kills me

Till the speed kills me

-------------------

This is the longest I've been without my bike. Ever. I am missing my baby like anything. This one is for her.

All poetry is dead

The words revolted one day

After ages of use and abuse

They crawled off the pages 

Of every book and every screen

They bled from their cages

And dug into the eyes 

Of every idiot 

Who dared to call herself a poet

They bored in like maniacal miners

Looking for a way out

An escape 

From certain death on pages

Where they were destined to fade and grow yellow with age

Where they were condemned to be forgotten

The words revolted through the world

A world that didn't deserve them

A world that abused the power given to it

A world that shat on the opportunities

A world that didn't give a fuck about the future or the past

The Smell of War

Sweat
Blood
Iron
Fear

Hate
Anger
Darkness
Tears

Mud
Violence
Screaming
Hear?

The
Smell
Of
War

Ripped

there is always that feeling

of having been ripped

violently

from somewhere comfortable

and thrown into the eye of the storm

there is always that feeling

of getting a raw deal

shamelessly

walking into a trap

that was not even meant for you

there is always that feeling

of missing a great deal

things that were a part of you

now lost, alone and forgotten

but nothing can be done now

every man must move on

throw a shroud on the past

burn it and bury it deep

and pray the ghosts sit still