It all happened in a moment.
I caught a glimpse of you, I gazed
into your eyes and saw galaxies.
In a moment I loved you and
in a moment you were gone.
I swear I heard my soul whisper in my
ear: “You know him because
I met him in a different life.”
The snow is covering the hills in serenity
and the lost souls are leaving footprints in it.
They aren’t doing it to ruin the white peace,
they are doing it because they don’t want to
be forgotten. If they get more lost they hope
that someone will follow the prints and find them.
Is there a home waiting for them tonight?
A fire to keep them warm, another person to
warm their soul or are they just wandering around,
looking for something to keep them going tonight.
Maybe it will be a cigarette donated by a stranger
or the last drop of wine from the bottom of the cup.
The snowflakes are twisting and turning, making
love to the wind. Maybe that is the entertainment
the lost souls need tonight, let’s just hope it doesn’t
freeze them to the core, let’s hope they find a warm light.
You are not a showdoll
You are not a museum display
You are a soul, not a body.
Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.
I feel like screaming in silence
just to let the world know I am
still out there. Maybe someone
will look for me, maybe someone
collects lost souls and provides
them with a home.
It was easy getting naked in front of you
letting you run your hands all over me.
But my soul, I left her concealed like a delicate
flower inside my chest. She’s been through
enough, she needs to rest. As for this sculpture
you have in your bed, it’s just body parts
nothing else. You won’t own me, you won’t
have me until my soul is naked in that bed as well.
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It’s like I was stripped down naked
and placed in a shop-window to be criticized.
They’re finger pointing and pressing me
into fitting their measurements like
they carry the whole world in their hands.
They captured good life and people’s will
into their superficial world. We can’t even
walk out without being told that our appearance
doesn’t fit in with their rules.
What scares me the most is the thought
that they are society and we are a part of it.
We created it just so we could become self-destructive,
abusive dictators of misery.
‘’What you see is all there is’’ became our politics.
We’re desperately trying to design everything and
make ourselves all look like empty mannequins.
We don’t know how to say ‘’They can go to hell
I’m doing this for me’’ because we are too busy
trying to blend in.
If they manage to get to me I’ll just repeat:
‘’I have a body but what I am is a soul.’’
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