A Frustrated Mind

I don’t want to give up.
I don’t want to give in.
I don’t want to go on.
To be this dishonest to myself.

Do something.
Make a change.
Make a way.
Change your way.

This sin that flows through me,
that has stuck to my bones,
that pulls me down,
let it all off.

I’m a fucking mess.
I want to be happy,
I know sad times will come,
but why am I so frustrated?

Fuck it all.
All is lost.
Or is it really?
Is something there?

No motivation.
Only desperation.
One destination.
Just frustration.

I need to get over.
This motherfucking hill.
But there’ll be another.
Of course there’ll be another.

Is this the poem of,
neverending frustrated
sentences that will never
fucking end

Because I feel like time
is running away from me
and I’m not even
fucking following it.

So kill me, heal me.
Stage me, save me.
Force me, free me.
Cut me, change me.

in the world
is impossible
to me.

Just fucking get up,
get over it,
do it all,
and do it again.




Kill Me

Bottling up my feelings,
and they will break it,
shatter it into pieces,
break me,
force their way,
through my chest,
through my eyes,
through my mouth,
in a scream,
in a cry,
in a bitter tone.

Tearing at the paper,
ripping it apart,
as I do to my opportunities,
kill me,
ruin my future,
with a shrug,
with a wave,
with a sigh,
no smile,
no luck,
no second chances.

Smashing the mirror,
breaking a knuckle,
ruining my reflection,
stop me,
without care,
by ignoring me,
by shushing me,
by forgetting me,
just nothing,
just glances,
just utter silence.

I’ve been told

I’ve been told:

To keep acting.
To keep singing.
To keep writing.
To keep being me.
To keep teaching.
To keep playing music.
To keep performing.
To keep taking photos.
To keep filming videoes.
To keep creating.

But still I doubt.


Visualize yourself in a white space. There’s nothing but you and you’re looking straight ahead. A cold wind creeps beneath your clothes and as you look up a pale blue sky has appeared. The sun is low on the sky, but still it casts a beautiful warm light upon the white surface beneath your feet. It’s snow.
Snow that stretches on for miles and miles. It’s glistening like pearls and there are no footprints. Except those you will make.
You breathe in the fresh air in one deep breath and ventures on.
Your feet doesn’t sink too low into the snow, so it’s easy to walk. If imagining that your feet are bare makes them feel cold; imagine them wrapped in knitted socks and warm boots. But you’re only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, still the breeze is not making you shiver. It’s just perfectly cool.
Do you feel lonely? How about a companion?
Because of something reflecting the sunlight upon you, you notice movement beside you. Soft steps in the snow indicates another creature. You turn your head and notice a polar bear walk by your side. Its fur is white and its posture calm. It exhales deeply and glances at you with warm brown eyes.
Do you feel like talking? What voice would the bear have? Deep and soft like a bass or smooth, like a flute?
Imagine it as a guide, as a physical form of reason. Another way to untie those confusing thoughts.
“You should relax.” It tells you with the voice you prefer. “Look around you. It’s a clean space, you can fill it with anything. Go anywhere you want.”
And it’s true. This place is your mind. You can go into the east where green hills stretch on for miles, or to the west where the spruce woods occupy the space like a silent mysterious place. In the North, that’s where you are. A white space, snow that is untouched. In the south you’ll meet a desert; here storms rage on and it’s impossible to find shelter.
If you want people, you can put them anywhere you want, but for now, let’s be alone. Not lonely, but alone.
“What’s worrying you?” The polar bear asks you while looking into the distance. You’ve reached the shore, a dark blue sea is in front of you and you look down to see thick ice beneath your feet. Still… You know that all the troubling thoughts swim beneath you in the darkness like predators from the deep waters.
You intake a sharp breath. Too close.
The bear nods and takes you with it to safe grounds and you sit down upon a lonely rock. The bear takes seat beside you. “You want to cross the ocean. But you’re afraid of the creatures below.” It says. You know it’s true. “With the wood from the west, you could build a boat.” The polar bear squints at the horizon and you do too.
“Even in the safety of the boat. You still feel vulnerable.” It then says and you sigh. It sensed it; your fear. How could wood keep you safe from the giant monster in the deep? Now that you’re the only one there to control the boat? Is it even worth the energy to try and build it?
“Well…” The bear hums. “Safety gets borning in the end, right?”
You nod.
“Then go.” It tells you and you hug your own body. Should you go? Cross the ocean?
The bear nods and stands. “Call me when you wonder again. For now, let’s rest.” It looks up and you notice the stars above you. The world around you darkens and sleep pulls at you.
“Let’s face the monster tomorrow. Let’s build that boat!” You yell as you watch the retreating figure of your reason.
The polar bear turns its head. “We’ll see where you wake up.”

Moon & Sun

I wouldn’t know how to live. Not if I hadn’t tried the consequences of loving the wrong people or not letting go.
Well I would never know how to live, but I would know how I want to live.
Always loving, less hating, even though I speak with a sharp tone and with a depressed undertone. I want to smile, I want to be honest and bright.
It’s the bright people who are caught in shadow, looking like a star that is pained in the darkness, who wants to join daylight like the sun, but never will.
Wouldn’t I want to stay cold and calm like the moon? Staying in the darkness but safe from harm. Like a soft reminder that even in darkness there’s light and here you can find your solitude?
Maybe I am the moon and maybe I am the sun.
The burning heat, a little too much and a little awkwardly set on the sky; blinding you. Still the sun brings warmth and light.
Sometimes I’m the clouds, covering the sky and hiding all the beauty I could be. Grey and humid. As in that choking humidity that fills your chest and makes you want to scream out from suffication.
Maybe I’m hidden, maybe I’m not even seen in your world. Because we see ourselves as the center of life. We forget we’re surrounded by main characters who in our story are side characters.
So you think you’re the moon surrounded by stars, but I’m the moon too.
Wouldn’t it be nice, if we were two moons on the same sky? Surrounded by stars and both bringing light to our own world. Two worlds united.

My moon is lonely.

But only when it forgets to remember the stars surrounding it.

Made for Death

I am not made for this world.
I am not made for living.
I am not created to go outside,
to be strapped of chains.
I am not able to fulfill wishes.
I am not able to do chores.

Something within me holds me back,
and I cannot get rid of it.
So maybe I should kill it,
so I can finally be made for something.
And maybe that something is death.