The Dance

Time is the beat
that creatures endlessly dance to.

Life is given to us
and we move freely
to the sound we perceive.

We keep dancing until
the beat drops so low –
we cease to exist.

No point in arguing the meaning
no reason to praise the giver of life
or to hate the one that takes it away.

Life is our current state of being
and we better celebrate it before
the song ends.



Decades turning right and turning left
into dead ends
between four cold walls.

Drowning in my own spit
suffocating in my own air
beautiful existence rotting
into a miserable curse.

Once a week I smile
and you snap a picture
telling every body
I am enjoying my life
more than ever before.

The crowd cheers
as my heart aches,
their joy is blinding
to the tears I shed
into this tiny pool.