Writing glances to the sun
bathing in the days sculpted in your inner eye
your skin is turning red while memories are boiling
to the scent that got you drunk before
and burning on your upper thigh
is a portrait of the saint that touched your soul…
but let your head fall
into the glory, to drink up once more
the savage pleading covering you whole
while listening to Pink Floyd,
arms open wide
mouth does speak the words
and it is all but fantasy,
wake up,
memories are cruel
wake up,
before this weight breaks you too…

They once put me on the cross
ironing my feathers next to yours,
how could you keep your heart untouched
plead forgiveness where I cry for war –
it is holy ash
and it is raining from above
brushing colors onto Kafka’s wall…

Follow me,
under the sun I dared to dream
and I was gone so flawlessly
whole world turned dark and I came to be alive
given to feel this symphony
caressing moss that spreads on you
among the hills springs silently
the sea that pours the life in me,
oh, give it back…
for stars bewitched be moving
on summer nights when lights are out
and moments seem to last forever,
I will fall so deep
grasping for a meaning I intend to keep,
it made me kneel
when all prayers in the book have failed
and learned true love can never heal…