Plague

Some thought are agonizing,

An immense pain, which shadows on the image of reality.

The pain is not eternal I heard, nor is it physical.

Just a trick of mind to make us feel alive, again.

These seeds are like nocturnal animals,

'Dark agents of the night'.

A welcoming silence which I am invited to, choking on reality.

Only the screeches of ravens and footsteps of a fox;

Flappings of an owl, or the mere presence of death,

Breaks this bond, breaks this silence.

When I saw that tired shade,

Which stumbled upon your darkest eyes,

I caught a fever, even thought I initially thought it's the plague.

Now the fever is the plague,

And the ticks of my watch are gone.

Vanished like the smoke of my cigarette disappears within the presence of the thin air,

And joins hands together with sheets of dark night.

The night which represents fear and pain,

Death and suffering.

It's the 'same' thought, which is agonizing.

This distance so far, like the moon and the tide,

Like the noon and the night:

Vanish into each other, cannot withstand each other.

No matter how close they are to each other.

The sun is dead, behind these dark clouds.

Footsteps

"In front of me is the entrance door,

might I be alone, but well that's another story.

My story is like being lonely, but only after a rush.

Stayed very calm and relax, but with people around you were you always worse.

You don't know any stories nor are you a type that would like stories;

You are not something great, neither are you alive on loans.

He walks with you, but your heart is locked,

Attitude? Someone always fucked that up for you.

You are missing the money for the family,

You swallow your words, so you can be the listener;

Full of words, but you ask: What's the point of saying them.

Till your cutting sound goes in someplace higher.

Dead-tired at home beside the fire with all the bruises,

Yet you whisper:

"This is the taste of being young.

The pains are tatooed on my body,

I don't want your life to turn in to my own story.

For a box of cigarette, when doors and walls;

Turned into your friends, for the whole long night.

I am standing again, but I passed my life away,

With all it's harshness."

What is life for you? A lover name and letter between the boquet of roses?

You say: "I'll light a cigarette, wake up the whole house,

A broken heart, what is it worth?"

These things are very usual for me,

I'm just another young person from the kind of material and jobless.

I turned into the actor of my own life,

And my mind is full of shit.

Brother, you are behind,

Look at the people beside you!

He reached his wishes and fulfilled them;

Yet sleep took you.

Ah, I'm burning to the toe,

My faith was like a cigarette, burning to the toe.

Wet under the rain,

Slippy under my feet.

The world is slowly forgetting us.

Be like us, fine young people without any give and take,

Without any exaggeration,

Hero of stories,

Burned chests like us.

Be ugly, like beautiful people,

Be and owl, with a beautiful voice.

Full and think about the hungry,

Say up here is our love.

Stay alive and live the life,

Be big and enjoy it like a child,

Be the story, not the narrator.

Be yourself, really!

Be a child on ghouls horns.

Whatever you want to be,

Don't be an idiot,

Don't be happy with the least you can have."