The Poetry of Reality

Most of the time, I feel majesty. Rasied above all other livning creatures - Just because of my consciousness.
I'am not. Not at all. I just creat my own situation, in which we all live. A sociaty that depense on our consciousness, expect us to be better then animals. But we are animals - we are (!)
There's so few things that diveds of from animals. We are humans, an animal species - Whit instinks, gruop realtions, and thinking minds.
We choose, to be better - Only because of small details. Maybe we are better, we can to more things, understand what we are and not. But they can to that aswell.
Sometimes I'am to littel to understand myself, and the univers around me, but I know one things:
The univers is inside myself, and it makes me feel alive.

Miss Love

Here I'am, sitting here.
Just me, physical.... But he is on my mind, all time, all day. I miss thoes hands.
There was a time, were I did'nt noticed. I could'nt see it, just could'nt. Like staring through the sky, looking for nothing. Nothing new.
Now I know, I can see the sky. See the inviseabel between the clouds. I can feel his lips against mine. although his is'nt here. I wish he were.
I'am watching my phone, checking emails. This is love, I guess...
I just have to be still. Keep it cool.
But I just can't stop wondering what I have missed... Any way
To miss is to love.
I miss

Silence shouts

I feel like screaming.
Just let go of all inside feelings. Just shout! Loud and clear. I just can't.
Sometimes I feel like my head is about på explode, break. See how all my feelings slips down over my eyes, my intere face. This heavy stream of emotins, which I can't control. It closes my eyes, and that's a releaf.
It's black, and I don't have to think and feel. I'am just there. It's out
I feel unfair. I feel like I have to defend my self, all time. I'd like you argue, I'am just affraid of the consequences.
My shouts are silence. Like blank pages of paper. You could write something importend on thoes pages, but you don't. The are blank.
Emontions, which I keep inside. They'll always say a thousend words, whitout any sound.
My shouts are silnece, but some day you'll hear it.
Loud and clear

Together

Her head is on my shoulder. She is tied, but still awake. My sister sitting besides me, on my bed. She closes her eyes and listen to my writing keys. She ask me why I'am doing this, and I say it's because the sounds of silence and pressing key is good for me. She can't understand it. Nor me.
We are together. And it is nice.
Her t-shirt says, 'I'am a fan', and I'am too.
Sometimes she just want to make me mad, and mostly it works. Sometimes she wanner be held. Just to be left be, in silence care. Sometime I need that aswell.
'This is boring' she says, almost asleep. She can't understand it. Maybe she can... 'Can we go do something else?'... 'No'... And then she begins to tease me.
She is my friend, like no other... In good and bad.
Now she's asleep. Open mouth, and her hand around my arm.
We are together, in different places.
I'll get her in bed.

Moonlight

I miss it.
I saw the light of night, once. Only that night, I saw it. I was sure I had seen it before, sure that I had made my mind about this beautiful thing. But this was new, like I had never seen the light before. The light of night.
I did'nt expect to see it, I just stood and watched. Enjoyed how the rays of the golden moon hit me, and made me feel alive.
Now I miss it. Because I have seen it, felt it and taken it to my heart.
It was a warm night, by the sea. The sea which had turned dark. I was alone between many people, and it seemeds like I saw another thing, when they did.
But the eyes of the moon, made me feel loved, and I'll never forget the power of carees, from the bright light of night.
My moonlight

A room whit a view

There's a flower by my window, I can smell it acrose the room. I'am sitting on my bed. The only thing I hear is the sound of pressing keys from my laptop. I'am writing whit closed eyes. My eyes are focus on the view. I only got one window, lights coming in. I got a beutiful view, but I can't see it. My books on my bookshelf, keeps staring. Focusing on seening what's behind the glas. Look through the sky, through the clouds. See something new, something invisibel.
I try to do the same

Lies, living in a fantasy

You must not lie.
You have to be all honest all time. No excuses...
Is it possibel?

I guess, all humans lie. Some more, some less. Some just fore fun, some to surviv.
I know people who create their life, based on lies. I schoul'nt judg them, but how come, lies is the only way to escape from reality? Small edited details, change the whole picture, and let the person creat a fake identity in the reality of lies. When did lie became reality?
I find it hard to lie. I'am not talking about small things like, 'Du you like this dress?', answering 'Oh yearh, It's great' when thinking it's ugly... I mean, real lies. The one you have to act in. Make up, and plan. I'am not good at it, I seem to forget, what I have lied about. Bitter sweet.
Lies is weapon, and they make wars. Like the one in Irak, based on denying lies. And hiding things from each other, make people feel forsaken.
I think Lies creats a reality, in whichs you can live, like a parelle world. You can keep yourself believing, but you can't hide. You know the truth, you can't deny to yourself.
I guess that's the hardest part.

I fell in love

Some months ago, I didn't even know about love. I always thought that it was overestimated, and that thoes romantic scenes in movies showed a unrealistic situation. I guess I just did'nt know.
Now I see love everywere, I hear it in all music and see in all situations. It is bitter sweet.
I'am late. I did'nt fell in love whit schoolmates or popstars, I was'nt aware of the serious amotions love could bring. I didn't belive them. When my girlfriends came to me, and talked about how much they could'nt stop thinking of this guy, I didn't belive... Because I did'nt know.
But now I do. It tok me such long time, to see and feel love... To be abel to reach for the signals.
I haven't been kissed before, and I'am longing. So despretly. It's like a growing need in my body, which I can't control.
I meet him, on a boat. I was on holiday, classic.
He has got this wonderfull Turkeys agcent, and I miss him. To miss is to love.
We talked that night, I held his hand. It was like being whit somebody who you have know your whole life... I guess thats love.
Now I'am longing. For him, because he gave me confidens. My whole life, some thing in my head has told me, to be unssattisfied. He free'ed me. He told me that I was beuatiful, and I belive him, In some point that little voise in my head fell out.
He was the barman on that boat, and he didn't do his job. He talked whit me, he held my hand.
Now I am home, and just as I thoug that the voíce in my head stopped, it came back to torture me. No Danish boy wants you.
I want to feel that warm again, I want to look in somebodys eye, and see my mirror. I am searching, I'am longing.
I still have him in my heart and in my head. I can't stop thinking of him, and sometimes I have to say out loud,
Heart of mine, be still