I want to be able to feel the substance as I see it. I would like to live my life (see the world) in dimension. I am surrounded by frozen air that traps me like an animal. I stare long and hard to find space.

I reenter my word to find peace.

I try to identify my subjects

but they only grow distant and disperse.

A shiver travels through me

my angel recognizes my battle and acts.

I am not selfish in my goal

only realistic when reality is not the base.

My forehead feels heavy

and my mind somewhere else

but my determination

shows in my eyes.

I stare at the objects

and unveil their meaning.

Looking at my hands

I see the hands of a child

curious with virginity

and smooth from youth.

The glossed eyes of the soulless

glaze with lack of anything

it is not a soft stare but a hard one

that remains empty in time forever.

Does this mean I have no spirit

When I die will I just dissapear

like the body that is all of me

Will all of me vanish

because of my ignorance

to remain in nothingness for eternity?

The only part of me the doctors

canıt cure is my spirit

that is up to me

to build back up once again.

Heaven does not await my arrival

instead they wait for the smoke

caused by the fire I burned

of the ashes that remain

from tears Heaven cried

that came here upon our world

and were treated as a whole other

like the five leaf clover I found as a child

it represents my downfall.

This was always in my history

at least I can save the fate of others

knowing that I am going to die and fade away

makes me just settle in an empty hole

that once was called my soul

that is where the apathy comes from

I continue now only from memory

becoming no stronger or weaker

just a fading formation

that will dissapear with the night

And I find my only option

is to live once again the memories I own.

You are hearing the works of a soulless poet

You are feeling emotions that donıt exist

Once I relive it it will always be there

and if I continue I face nothing but everything.

I pray this is insanity not truth

that thought brings comfort now.

Please God return my soul

I never knew this could change my world

Untitled ten, poem number sixteen, blue notebook

Why canıt the world just be one fcking whole

The only thing that links me to myself is memory-

Iım not supposed to be like this

I am meant to be intellectual