
An unknown workplace
where you know every tool
just not why it is there

An unknown workplace
where you know every tool
just not why it is there

The worlds you look at
through your windows
are as much a part of your life
as the inside
where you live

There seems to be a straight road
in your direction
where you have a good grip on
as long as you don’t know
its reality

I will be driven again
towards a point in the future
that I don’t know and have been
I see the time in between passing by
and I get out at the end of the ride
setting foot in a new beginning
with the same end
life can only be seen from one point
from in between the past you see
and the future you expect

Together
drinking coffee
under artificial sun

Fear of death often seems
to be
veiled in security
fear of loss
of time
of the other
fear of nothing
at the end

My thoughts arrive from silence
from a past
without my I
I invent myself
after each though
so I can feel
I feel
therefore
I am

My thoughts originate
from nowhere in search
of my will
my thoughts arrive
like needs from somewhere
where silence was
my mind is silent
my thoughts are just
what overflows
259 Insight: all evaluation is made from a definite perspective: that of the preservation of the individual, a community, a race, a state, a church, a faith, a culture.- Because we forget that valuation is always from a perspective, a single individual contains within him a vast confusion of contradictory valuations and consequently of contradictory drives. This is the expression of the diseased condition in man, in contrast to the animals in which all existing instincts answer to quite definite tasks.

I took out the parts that hold me
and realize it was not much

I've been near the top of that mountain
and now I have to look at it every day
because I am staying here

The wind blows the soft snow
in sharp lines
as if nowhere to go
and the dry winter cold
looks on

Today the snow fell
one by one on top of each other
line by line next to each other
forty centimeters tall at the end
so beautiful stacked on top of my car
when I looked at it
with a shovel in hand

Blown snow stuck against the door's window
I opened it to feel
but decided
to stay in
because I can

Through the snow I continue where the path ends
the path that took me to that which is unexpected
thinking we know where we are going understand
what am I doing here what am I doing in the snow
I can give you reason or two maybe three or more
so what is true of all of this or what will value have
the cold snow on the ground I fall into is full of this
unthinkable thoughts a never-conceivable realities
without reason it wants to give anything the truth
It happens spontaneously in passing just like that
don't think too much think like a child every day
without a past dare to fall into the cold snow
do not be afraid of the wet or the blame
wet cloth can dry the days disappear
disappearing into the horizons
the one that is behind you
full of old imaginations
heavy as a burden
denied bitterness
you will forget
what it was
as a child
to be to
fall in
snow
Wet
am
I
that
is like
to become
a child
play

I still like
what got planted
in front of my youth
the painting of it
is still hanging here