The dreams of intruders

  

Standing at a loss for romance. The tender, buzzing tremors of secrets locked in charming flirtatious eyes that are clueless... Behind me, everything seems to be closing, falling down; the desire and illusion for unearned happiness dissipates sooner, like the tormenting homesickness.

What I once thought I knew consciously is soon covered by the Sands of Time. Yes! The secured knowledge leaks out sooner or later. Many times it's too much for me: I'm childish and helpless at the same time. Wandering aimlessly through the labyrinths of my ignorance again and again, could there be no one left to hold my hand?!

An amused, service-ready smile, while my puffed-up Pinocchio-face reflects constant, startled wonder. A heavy price for every stumble - but you still have to pay! Wounded self-consciousness and wild daydreaming are becoming more and more sensitive. Flattening silence creeps insidiously like snakes, following me too.

The fear of being alone for good grows in me. My nervous system, prone to lamentation, walks a tightrope dance in a jelly-like shimmering hair-thin medium, and I could never have a word for it if I had to confess: every wasted action was a softly whispered cry for help, to which no one in my contemporary time had yet responded.

I kept the pistil petals of unbridled desire for the Universe, which immediately laughed out loud. I became a writhing hopelessness in the dust of Nineveh. I am flowing like an aching, selfish pain again towards desolate moon-barren landscapes, while my available time is getting less and less.

I can no longer be overly confident in unbiased judgments that are blind to nothing. With futile, Marcona zeal, even the debased world is acting, exhibitionist, a mere pose!