I stop to wonder why

And what is behind the “I”

Face that I came to recognize

Stories built on lies

Then the waiter brings my drink

And I forget that I ever questioned the I



I find no comfort in the facts you give

The numbers of people dying

While some refuse to live

Adventures never taken

By free people, or so they say

Money is the reason

In these offices we stay

Lost Meaning

Then I scream


It’s just a dream

An empty thought that found its place

Refusing to let go of me

Ideas dying to be told, but I’m surrounded by deaf ears

So I scream

After all, no one will hear

The deafening silence within

(Poet’s often die unheard)


The editing changed the meaning

Like Photoshop changed the girl

But this time no beauty was added


Not at all

And you lost the original

It’s on a napkin on a floor

In a bar that you hardly remember

From the night before 

The Poet’s Dream

Ideas that take foreign shapes lead to restless sleep

He lays his head ignoring the ghosts of the undead

She posts a post on Facebook that no one understands

“Why’s she so weird? Who would like this post?” They whisper behind bright screens, reblogging ideas simple and plain

He dreams of knowing her name

That girl in the coffee shop that looks too shy 

They dream, of someone knowing their name

(I’m writing this half asleep)