We used to be friends
But you don't ask about me
You only talk about yourself
Walk amongst yourself
Take everything for yourself
Its you you you
So have it all
Take all you want
It's free
And In the end
We're nothing
No hard feelings

Some enjoy the drag
the pushing, the shoving
all the talking, the need to please,
their heads under a heavy thumb.
It kills me, the monotony of it all.
I enjoy repetition only in little bits
And sometimes the idea of a regular routine
Actually sounds appealing.
But I am, as I have finally accepted,
am more animal than man.
And animals must be free
without demand or need, but
with pure instinct.
I do take what I want.
I do eat when I hunger.
And this animal hungers
for more than sweet meats
for more than bitter herbs
and plain vegetation.
This beastly, hybrid spirit
seeks liberation.
Liberation of the soul
Liberation of the mind
Liberation of the cold
gritty construct of modernity
and all his economic pressures.
Perhaps scarcity of solitude
pushes this animal on.
For it's very sweet when we have our cave
to ourselves.
And far sweeter when we have the right company
to share within solitude.
But the dog needs not a human.
The cat needs not to be harassed.
The animal needs another animal
with just the right instincts.
A similar reflex for all freedoms.
The taste for inhibited lust.
Yes, some people enjoy the drag,
the pushing, the shoving.
I enjoy the quiet
the stillness
In solitude

Do I show up everyday
Knocking at your door?
Are you always waiting
with open arms?
I do let myself fall into
the mystery of you,
only sometimes like
when I was a child.
I'm older now,
a little more grey
and my heart has learned a thing or two.
Those lessons of the heart,
which are sometimes so swift
yet often so lengthly strung
from romance to romance
are but independent threads
wrapping and weaving the soul.
This blanket of life, this veil, this
pillow
starts only from a thread
whom needs steady hands to help guide.
And they show up everyday
knocking at my door.
Am I always waiting with open arms?