Temple of Doom

Run. Begin to run.. Run away, far away my jupiter. Far away from me.
In the way of lost responsability, where i can't be pleased.
Where all we have are pictures, images frost from fellings lost.

Divine silver of unholy friends and lost years and weekends and step by step towards the end.

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My perceptions are high, slow down flow of panic, relax. Exthasic to the pain of my own blame.

White lines... wide awake. Stand tall and walk away. Another night, another day. Eternal flow of circunstances, no profit, no chances.

The smile of rain, the colour black. Eyes closed tight. Still black, no line in the horizon, no bliss in the sky.

In fortune's fool, slave of my own destiny.


All for me.

April 19, Bicycle Day

“It happened on a May morning — I have forgotten the year — but I can still point to the exact spot where it occurred, on a forest path on Martinsberg above Baden,” he wrote in “LSD: My Problem Child.” “As I strolled through the freshly greened woods filled with bird song and lit up by the morning sun, all at once everything appeared in an uncommonly clear light.

“It shone with the most beautiful radiance, speaking to the heart, as though it wanted to encompass me in its majesty. I was filled with an indescribable sensation of joy, oneness and blissful security.”

Dr. Hofmann

Mute Melodies

Emotions are lights fading away. Cruel as it is, i am alone with myself again, fall down the rainbow, i now see all grey.
Locked inside myself, alone with all this hurt, i am none, the nothing that pleases the rain.

Again and again the story ends and i walk alone. The thought becomes flat as i point towards the end.

In the shape of a loss i let slip between my fingers, i realize i still have no hand.

My heart works in ways i wish i could forget. The hurt, the dark... no words describe.