Mr Blue

The man in blue

he flew into my room when I was still a child

dreaming away at day, at night

and having him bed me on a cloud

He was the first to give me a name

a phantasm I bathed in

without any shame

he was not meant to last

but oh so mad´ning tragedy has it

that he always returned

just never to stay

Still warm are the sheets

and a white morning greets

the pale small girl

resting on a chest

that once was the nest

in which he carried her out of the window

the Man in Blue

and this, and this, and this,

this moment only

is all there is

And now another night has come

Mr. Blue, long have you been gone-

for a day, a week, a year, a decade

I do not care - time cannot measure

what lays here so bare and scarred:

The unending story sold by my heart

to anyone, anyone but you

just to feel that any of all this true

and I am free to hold on to the girl

who has made and stayed with the Man in Blue

to be left and bereft of her mind, her name

over and over again

DAMN YOU!

Can´t you stay for a while? You are not superman!

breathing normally

restless, sleepless, worn
mind is racing and a shadow paints all walls
can´t get out but what am i in
the wheel it does not stop to spin
what is real and how am i to know what to feel
my body is numb
and what can i say
without a message for my errand
and to whom and why and how
and why is it so dark
and fear won´t take a bow
and leave me to sleep and rest
in peace without grief and regret
i´m burning out I`m caving in
but still a rattling nonsense
with hands on a keyboard
is all that I am
and all the romance just fades into grey
I am a dreamer with nothing to do
and much less to say
that keeps you in my world
that leaves my hope uncurled
and unfolding in waves in your embrace
I am too much of too little
and so I exist
and have nothing to give that may help us persist
as a WE
not even in terms of "maybe"
i cannot stop
i cannot leave
the life i inflict with this painful desease
FEAR
i want to move on, i want to resist
but a BUT always follows the moments of bliss
up in the sky I always fly high
but a crush to the ground
so familiar it sounds
the pigeon was hit by a car
but i knock myself out and scratch at each scar
as though i may vanish
when the heavens and hells cease to exist
and I may end up in where lovers could live
in the inbetween, where all can slowly, mildly
decide and unfold before it may live
from moment to moment
breathing normally