I walk this streets picking up fights with unattended shoes,
Streets you hate so much in the clear moments of your pain.
I keep walking, never mind the Who-Is-Whos.
Never minded that stupid refrain –
Maybe too often before.
It’s only those quacks of soul cockery,
I shut the door for.
Do any of those words matter anyway?
Guess I don’t care, can’t carry any more.
Move on, the nonsense will stay.
You can always find it on the market place,
Selling seeds of banality and brutality
To the love birds.
Can’t they see?
I’ve seen to much,
I’m quitting my membership to normality
As such, maybe –
Or is it the normal thing to be me?
And is it a good thing –
Whit all my thoughts going on?
The indifferent one is the king
Of those masses of beauty and ugliness.
And where are those thoughts going to?
Whereever, they’re taking me with them.
With many I am through.
But that feeling remains, that carries them
Like the ocean carries the waves.
Won’t take the order any more.
I’ll make order within my mind.
And every sense appears like it was forgotten before,
It’s a tough one, but the good kind.
Their is an inkling everywhere,
Whispering stories of a nameless sadness.
About that I do care:
Words, names that can be found in the emptiness.
You might say, there is nothing.
But I know
That feeling is everything.
Just not sure about the preposition:
Is it for you, or from you?
Anyway there is just one right decision: