Sleep

Drooping eyelids,
Colorless images,
Muted sound.
Call of the dreams,
The beginning of the escape.

Lie down,
Creaking bed,
The sighing of the pillow,
Eyes shut,
Descending darkness.

The explosion of colors,
The realm of imagination.
A sniper in the jungles of Africa.
A spy in East Germany during the Cold War.
A dying cancer patient.
A random conscience in the future.
A shipwrecked sailor on a deserted island.
Being chased by that monster,
Running,
Trapped,
The edge of the void,
Falling... falling... falling
Gasp.
Eyes wide open,
Heaving chest,
A shiver.
Welcome back to unreality.

The Traveler

A silhouette on the hilltop,
A floating shadow,
A dark cloud guided by a burning cigarette,
The traveler has escaped again,
The traveler is free.

Cracked windows reflecting blackness,
Broken columns being strangled by ivy,
Torn spiderwebs,
The fading footsteps that lead right through them,
The traveler was here.

An abandoned village,
Voices lost,
Still nights,
Suffocating silence,
A trail of cigarette smoke,
The traveler was there to witness the fall.

A hidden creek,
Soggy leaves rotating in pebbled whirlpools,
The lingering echo of the traveler's morbid whistling,
The chase is almost over.
Almost.

Lightening.
The dark clouds,
The spreading stain of blackness on the milk-glass sky.
A lonely wall without a structure,
The forlorn curtains flourishing,
Dancing their death dance with the winter wind.
I see him.
I see the traveler.

The silent chase,
The need to steal his sight,
To make it mine.
Almost there,
An arm's length behind.
The shadow stops,
The burning cigarette flares,
The traveler turns around,
You stare back at yourself,
And like a swift intake of breath,
Comes the drenching rain.

Untitled.

You wait.
You breathe,
Deep breaths.
You exhale out the dread,
At least you try to.
Your love is out there... somewhere,
Dying.
It is being smothered,
Being killed,
In the arms of another.
The heart sinks,
The soul rejects.
You want to hold on,
To feel what you once felt.
To let it stay.
That feeling,
Raw and pure.
But.. but the soul revolts,
It refuses to let it be.

A dripping tap,
A drying river.
Two loves.
You are being trapped again,
Divided in two.
Two related extremes,
The relation is beyond your grasp.
Stare at what's around you,
The brain rejects.
Why can't you see?
Stare some more,
The mind refuses to see still.
Trapped within your thoughts you are,
Entranced by the sights they offer.
Come out... come out please.
Let the magic die.
It amuses you no more.
An addiction it is,
It is time,
It is time for you to leave the theater,
Time for the magic to die.

The Rotting Branch.

Dying,
Being fed upon,
The rotting branch.
It can remember what it was to live,
It can remember the rustling of the leaves,
The feel of the gentle breeze.
The fragrance of the wet soil.
The joy of the rain.

How did it ever come to this?
Was it the poisoned body that poisoned its soul?
Or was it the other way around?
So full of life it was,
So alive with emotions,
Where did it all go?
What... what brought about this rot?
Who turned it..
Turned it into a rotting branch.

Numb,
Surrounded...
Covered, immersed, drowning.
Spasm after spasm of piercing numbness.
It prays.
It prays for life.
Prays to be able to feel again.
Prays for the numbness to go away.
For the rot to be slain.
But the corruption is too deep.
For now and forever it will be...
A rotting branch.