Schizophrenic.

I am a little fucked up in the head.
Just a little, I swear.
I do things, I shouldn't
And never regret them.
I live in my head, dreaming
And thinking all the time.
I love it that way.
I live in my lala land where
everything is my way.
Why should I bother changing then?
When I have the perfect world
You only wish you had.
It ain't real, you say.
Look in my head, I retort,
Everything is as real as
Real can ever be.

Ice cream and chocolate sauce

"I won't stay for long," he said, "I have work tomorrow."
"Just for dinner," I cajoled.
He sat, one among the others.
We ate with our eyes it seemed.
Licking off pasta sauces, sly smile, twinkled eyes.
"Ice cream?," I ask.
He nods, reluctantly.
"I really need to leave."
Double fudge chocolate.
"Chocolate sauce?"
He sighes.
Nod once, half hearted once again.
Sauce dribbled in the shape of a heart.
The last dribble licked off the finger.
He looked up and smiled.
I knew he was sold on the icecream and more.

I walk this road.

I walk this road.
This road of self-destruction.
I know, well, where it will take me.
And yet, I walk.
Why?
Because there is hope.
A slight chance.
That it will take me somewhere else.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.
What can I say? Except maybe that I am insane.
At least I am not hopeless, not a cynic.
Not yet, at least.
I still have hope.

Echoes.

It echoes throughout the skies,
It echoes in the streets,
It echoes in deep hollows
of the bleeding heart.

Vacuum fills up,
where once you resided.
Void remains,
where once you belonged.

It echoes to remind of the hollow
that I have become.
It echoes to remind of the love
that I lost.

It shall echo until one day,
when it will hurt no more.
The bruises will heal and
it will echo no more.

For OSI