Forcing me to once again slam the shutters of my eyes (embarassing)

I talk to people everyday involved in some scene; good and evil are but words invented by those that are trapped in scenes. I realize gravity is my only enemy; lonelyness has clutched hands and squeezes you into wronging others. Everybody has to do things to keep themselves occupied: the working ones have their minds on the weekends; victims of the system pack movie theaters; and who and of what sadistic company is he from that has the right to condemn others as trivial?

Who`s fault and who really is to blame for one man carrying a gun? It is impossible that it`s him. On what grounds are the grounds of judgement? I think also that there is not one thing anyplace anywhere that makes any sense. There are only tears, and there is only sorrow – there are no problems.

I have seen what I`ve loved slip away and vanish; I still love what I`ve lost, but to run and try to catch it would be very greedy. For the rest of my life I will never chase a living soul into the prison grasp of my own self love. I can`t believe that I have to hate anybody; and when I do, it`ll be only out of fear, and I`ll know it. I know no answers and no truth for absolutely no soul alive. I will listen to no one who tells me morals. There are no morals, and I dream a lot..

The winds of the North came following me and grew fiercer as the years went by. But I was young, and so I ran and kept running..Forcing me to once again slam the shutters of my eyes, but also me too wondering when they`ll open – much much stronger then anyone whose own eyes are aimed over here at mine.

I am still running I guess, but my road has seen many changes. For I`ve served my time as a refugee; in mental terms and in physical terms. And many a fear has vanished, and many an attitude has fallen, and many a dream has faded. Running, yes.. but stopping for awhile, embracing what I left, and loving it – for I`ve learned by now never to expect what I cannot give to me.

Strength now shines through my window, regaining me and arousing me day by day. From the weariness of walking with ghosts that rose and had risen; from the ruins and remains of the past. Even though I clutched it`s sheet, I was still refused and left confused; for there was nobody there to let me in. Feeling unwanted? No. Unloved? No. I felt nothing, for there was nobody there. I didn`t see no one to want or unwant; to love or not love.

Maybe they`re there, but they won`t let me in…  Mister Bojangles

Over Rebekka Eliza Dorothea Nirel Engels

Disillusioned words like bullets bark....Dat zijn woorden vol desillusie die blaffen als honden, als kogels. De klanken versterken de woorden. Wanneer blaffen de gedesillusioneerde woorden als blaffende kogels? Dat doen ze als menselijke goden hun doel najagen...( Bob Dylan begrijpt mij wel✌️)
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