Your eager hands
Took my heart

You embraced it
Loved it
Adored it
Drowned it in your desire
And eventually crushed it
With a relentless grief

Now you took my eyes too
I can constantly see
The path I took
To survive this storm
But your clouds of the past
Are still forming up on me

The barrier
Of my substantial pillar
Which stands for hope
Is broken
I am broken
My body is broken
My heart is broken
Only the contrast between love and pain represents my current mood

I’m floating
I’m vibrating
Somewhere between them

Hoping to find
Your footprints
In the sand
Of the unknown


Life is a personified chaos.
With only one entry point.

We died,
In a place with a one-faced water spitter that ran out of its recourses.
Cause of death,
we’ve let it slip away.

The greeks only had one question after a man died:
“Did he have passion?”

In my opinion this is just all a maze
to bring me back to where it all started,
And eventually fly back

to Never Neverland.

4th Of August

With her dark curly hair,
She steals the wind
Along one side of her neck.

She goes where se goes.
Right across the sea.

Well I envy her perfection.

The way she wears her hat,
Will be my beacon
When our light finally goes out.

I could say
I lost her somewhere
Between the crushing waves,
And the 4th of august
At 3am.

Driving My Car Towards The End

Choose one of the two songs to play while reading this scribbling.

Inside the glass cage on wheels with sore windows,
Empowered by the winter’s coldness,
The vast drowning blocks
Of a rotten humanity drift along.
Where you can smell the gore of a petrified city
That lost it’s virginity
A long time ago.
With in the middle
A boulevard headed towards
The door of the escapism
Which I’m picturing inside that frame
I once got from you.

I hear you sing:
“This is the end!
Of our elaborate plans, the end!”
That’s when I scream back:
“I’m driving my car on Geneva Road!”

Wandering where this callout might take me,
My mind yells at me.
Trying to make me understand
I should keep pushing that desperate throttle
Towards the 150km/h,

But then the unnoticed voice centered in my heart wispers to me,
Saying that I should leave a trail behind.
Existing out of the endangered winged bugs inside me.

They wave at me,
While the maker left them for dead.
Nevertheless they are satisfied of their completion.
They took us to the end of the road and back.
They showed us a wonderful fraction
Of the view we had in front of us.

Let our white crow,
That stands for the door to satisfaction,
Look back in happiness
Towards the black forest.

Our realistic view on the inferno Where we were born as victors.
The enclavement where the bird looked down on us with pride,
And saw us as one.
The place that eventually got us trapped
Inside our own disgust,
And made you
Turn away

A spark in the crowd

The girl from the bar wanders around

in my field of joy.

Smiling and laughing,

With the presence of some belgian


And amusing tunes.

I admire her laughter.

The hand of the magician

Wakes the happiness inside her aura,

And spreads it out like a virus 

inside my glass cage.

She makes me long.

Long for a moment we forget 

That there are obstakles coming closer

at our current position.

She doesn’t care.

All she wants is a smile 

From the man,

Which she seeks out

In the crowd of the movement.

She enlights the sun

As she sees the man that finds 

her eyes the source of 

a lost planet’s liberation.

And girl,

I long for your laughter.

Flight of the seagulls

Vivacity around my aura,
I am aware of your presence.
Swallow me down,
Puke me out,
Enlight the dust of destruction,
And burn it with your sunflower warmth.

Untill there’s only a vivic sunshine left for us to breathe.

We are victorious.
I am no longer caged inside the mirrored box of desolation.
The seagulls have shit their shit
On the fresh december grass
And took their feathers with them
Alongside the trash they carry away
Into oblivion.

I live.
I breathe.
I grief.
I smile.