Stick around

The work revolves around
With a touch of nonsense and void.
What makes sense to me
Is not a peculiarity and of no importance
To the reasonless pressure and optimization.
I will observe and learn,
I will stick around.

Urban travel

The synthetic smell of rain on the asphalt
Will stay with me today
And remind me of the aggressive civilization
I belong to.
No flowers of green
On the way to work
To greet my struggled motivation.
What went wrong can be fixed,
Feelings of inadequacy
Linger in the air.

Burning in/out

Noise and broken sentences
Crawl in my mind
Worrying why the job I used to enjoy
Is now a reason off dark dreams and tears.
Have I seen a part of it that disgusts me?
Is it just this broken environment I am in?
Is it inside me? Is it the situation?
I reject the whole package
And my life gets impossible,
and gets on.

No connection

No signal, alone, no network,
reassure me while moving
through the day.
What is needed is here
and the energy gets lost in the web
of relations and demands.

Diary directions

Learning the hard way
And writing its lessons
That hardly persist in the behaviour.
A diary as a manual
With no formulas or perfect fittings
But personalised coordinates for your route.

Red power

The pain in the growth
And the pleasure of innocence
That vanishes in the responsibilities.
Pursue or not pursue a dream
of promised strain and unwelcome presence?
The mind flies but the feet are stubborn
And the heart divided.

Armour up

My skin is soothed
With creams and ailments
I carefully spread at night.
The armour is on
And the shield risen towards the coming sun.
Unreasonable demands and chaotic requests
Are bounced back by the integrity
of the protection I am wearing
And space is created inside and outside of me.