Blue

 Who are you blue?

Give me a clue 

I have seen black, red, and green

But truly blue I have never seen

You keep returning

Only to peep

But then I freeze before the peak

You sing a vague melody 

But I don't pick

Who knows the piece that does the trick? 

I only see you

When we can't reach 

I keep on walking 

And so you bleach

It never goes away

I had for long being mourning

Then it came without warning

Santa managed to bring

Christmas gift early in spring

Played so much with the toy

Sucked out all energy and joy

Oh, it used to be like leaven

Could transport me to heaven

Sadly now it's the inverse

It's calamity, it's a curse

Like an installed parasite

Deadly ill I can not fight

Oh, it never goes away

Always standing on my way

Ya, for anything I say

And in every verse I stray

I sit down still and watch

Frozen time on the watch

The addiction is so inure

I can't even wish the cure

Close my eyes, it's inside

Outer illusions aside

A snowflake nightmare

It's a plague, it's everywhere

Bob was invisible

Am I even here? - Said Bob to himself

With a silent voice he couldn't quite hear

He looks at the mirror: nothing but a blur

He tries to talk to people: no one hears

Then he yells: no one reacts

So when alone, he swells

Like an angry banished demon

Tears down portraits from the walls

Breaks the glasses of the windows

Am I really invisible?! Just a ghost?

Sometimes I feel they can hear me whisper!

Yet, all it does is bother them...

Finally, Bob hides 

So that no one can see him anyway

But I am sure I must exist! - insists Bob

Dismal figure, poor little boy

I saw someone seeing me once!

Therefore, visible I must be

Or was it just a delusion 

Of my desire to finally be seen?

But if I could project someone that sees me

Then I could also project myself

And finally, see the Bob-me

Still, I can not project me

So...no!, a projection it cannot have been

Thus, invisible I cannot be

But then...why does no one see me?

Well, what Bob didn't know was that 

 He was one of those rare materials

Which only under dark-light would shine

And without it, it was just a shapeless spectrum

Imperceptible, inconspicuous, invisible

Searching for me

It is searching for me

Inactively in what is alike me

Because it is too afraid to take the lead

Actively in what is not alike me

Because it is easy to sink into

It is searching for me desperately

In sweet high pitches that do not hold

It is waiting to be taken

Wishing its beauty to be stolen

But nothing does it

No more such lovely thieves

It is looking for me 

In tiny inanimate objects

Because they fit into hands

And can easily break

It keeps seeking me

Consciously and unconsciously

Like all the others

Which could never again find

That thing they failed to name

Terrified

 It was so desperately afraid

That I could see the colors of its fear's smell

Drawing pathetic caricatures of it

Around its own hunchback shape

In the utmost repellent fashion

It was so miserably scared

That immediately after 

Sleeping walking in heaven

Would awake and squirm into itself

Like a tiny poked armadillo

It was so terrified

That it took its dictionary

And rewrote the meaning of every word

That remotely related to the nature of its dread

It was so delusionally in panic

That it cemented itself in a tomb

In which it will slowly suffocate 

In incommunicable agony

Loveslaughter

 All the love that here once was

Even after it comes to fade

Shall forever remain

Unharmed and strong

In the slices and dices

Of our time and space

When and where it took place

It was embodied 

In that bundle of warmth

Inside your heart and within your arms

The sound of your sight

In the sight of my eyes

It was reflected

In that smell of cheese from the kitchen

As a dying-Sunday desperation

Would slowly take over

It was carved in the annoying shape

Of every lazy morning

Bathing in endless good-mornings

It was everywhere

Pervasive and sharp

I could see and hear it

I could smell, taste, and touch it

So I wonder, where was such love

When I planted fabricated evidence

To frame myself for crimes 

That I never committed? 

And where did it go every time

That I pretended to look back

Even though my heart 

Had been already for a long time

Fully rooted in our living room?

Where the hell was its whereabouts

When I petrified our flowers

And threw them at us like rocks?

Was it madness or simply stupidity?

Was it lovemurder or just loveslaughter?

Dripping and peeling

Instant by instant

This tap keeps on dripping

And as it slowly empties my heart

 It fills up a bowl of hate

Meanwhile, in synch with each drop

I peel off chunks of my skin

Pulling it recklessly dry

Detaching from the flesh

Because despite the agony 

Of such gruesome procedure

I rather reduce myself

Into a piece of raw bare meat

Than keeping any of these cells

Once fed and regulated 

By a putrefying deceit

The hole

 What disgusts me about this hole

Is not its dirt, or its moisture

It is its superficiality 

What enrages me is that I fell

And got wounded

In such a peripheral hole

Which the rainwater touches

The sun also touches 

And any animal passing by does too

But nothing really fills it up

Because there is no space

Enough for anything meaningful

It is empty, and as it seems

It probably would

Content itself with any material

Any shape or color

That lousily tried to cover 

Its pathetic hollow nature

After all

What maddens me

Is the deep disappointment

Over my own deluded eyes

Which for so long

Projected colors

Where there was nothing

Nothing but a shallow hole