the lion roars (1)

the lion roars (1)




The gutter dripped and the rain drops rapped hard on the kitchen window. My eyes were already open. The bedsheets felt cold and damp. The shutters in the living room rattled with the wind gusts.  I’ve been staring at the dark ceiling for nearly three hours. I sat up. Sleep was busy somewhere else.

Another rotten night. Continue reading “the lion roars (1)”

hole in the middle

wish to wish the words will flutter

in the wind of  greed and hunger,

they will whisper for lust and rage.

in the back of your cranial maze

eviscerating the tiny peculiar voices

Unsaid the matter of importance

a sin just leaving it to ignorance

certainly there’s a prize to pay.

it’s your fault if you stay….

the craving grows,

the hunger howls…

Not enough.

Never enough!


nightmares in a dirty blanket

every night, I’m sick.

every day, it gets worse.

how can I sleep, if I don’t dream?

I only have nightmares

no food left to eat,

I can’t leave, I can’t sleep.

So I make myself some tea,

while the nausea eats me.

How can it be? That I still believe?

that something waits for me…


Bitter and empty, I start shaking

wrapped into dirty blankets,

I’m only nightmares.

said and done

I can’t wait for those nightmares

bad choices snicker at my scares

on the fence I’m drying my sins

guts of a scapegoat fixed with pins


Light the fuse, I sit on bombs

I’d stick to the world in your palms

I can’t stop grinding my teeth

Excuse me, let me breathe!


Don’t tie me to the back seat!

You can’t hear me praying on repeat.

When I wake up I’m afraid,

I feel cold and betrayed


Secretly hiding your good-bye letter

into the sleeves of my favorite sweater

knotted around your swaying waist

We dance – a death tango, fast paced


Somebody’s beneath my face

Somebody else took my place

Let me go, or start listening!

 you look – my heart’s blistering

rorschach blots

Oh, but poetry called,

about an hour ago.

It said, it wanted to cuddle,

with every noun, pronoun,

verb, adverb and adjective,

there is to be found in

the outside world.

Just like that!

That lucky bastard!

Call me Rorschach, if you like.

My voice is your voice, in fact

a bit of everyone´s voice.

Syllables and words in a row

lacking meaning? Hell!

An answer I don´t

even want to know.

Poetry got scared,

or bored, and ran away.

You´ll see, madness is somehow

my area of expertise…

things from hell

this what you get,

if you look for yourself.

this is what you get,

if you lost yourself.

only those should speak,

who were born in doubt,

fed by disgust, and

and nurtured by hate

don’t lose yourself…

not within others,

don’t search where

you’ve disappeared-

you’ll only find

the emptiness

in others eyes…

you’ll only find

hell in others minds.