Striving for SURVIVAL, part 1 Thing I do for survival

Along the catacombs
surrounded by whirlwinds of dread
and howls of the killed
and the slaughtered and ready for testing.
– for in the final phase,
some try to resist, an unplanned,
human, nature-provided ability

to shift focus and fear for the bare sense.
The optical ability enhances,
images of merry demons
smiling dance around the iris.

The main phase then ensues,
upon the rapid degradation
of potential to maintain one’s own


I and in this struggle, the eyes expand,
bulging in fear,
staring at the monster,
the shifted human form
which has the same countenance,

but shaded and bloodied with lack of feelings,
whose disgusting, dry mouth open and
utter the Kafkian judgment


This is where the compilation comes
of several entities
pretending to be friends, godsisters and neighbours
in one singular entity,
hostile, radically evil with malicious intent and death in mind –
that I struggle to survive…


and the following sudden departure of a loving being
comes in, a being that uttered a judgment
out of nowhere,
using the nature-given freedom of MAN to think,
to use a flaw in its mind map,
each to his own moral metrics and laws of fidelity,
I struggle to survive

the universal reality consisted of
no more than a handful of cigarette buds
and other than rage at the impotent God
who punishes the good and awards the weak,
something that cannot be known,
but merely believed,
It was soft, hiding spot
I struggle to survive


The ship of illusions that the friendship was possible.
I owed moments of erotic bliss.
Whenever entering my head, with roots, the wind,
the breath of tropical sun,
I struggle to survive my friends, godsisters and neighbors

in one singular entity,
hostile, radically evil with malicious intent and death in mind.
to go in pairs and be bound to a pack,
somewhere out there, on the edge of the lost world,
its monstrosity, but also its shininess,
none will notice it gone or even as having existed,
the light and shadow play will merge with vile contours of envy,
doubt and shame,
A haze, a wave in my thoughts,

a vortex where they wallow

in whirlpools and abysses of the deeps
I struggle to survive


A vision of a lunatic,
a nightmare with a hundred thousand deaths.
Obsession with fear.
An attack of the innocents,
a finger of fantasy pointed at them, listed names.
I struggle to survive

a battle not to disembark the ship of illusions
And when they stick a knife in your back,
everything moans in bliss.

The cowardly lack of will of the people
to stand up against the dictatorship of the benefactor
and peddled at their flaws – I am trying to survive!


To barely get by
a mass of people, conventional shoulder-patting,
well-intentioned advice from good people

Soft, muddy picture,
then the image comes into focus
and a zoom-in of someone’s eyes.
Then the eyes spoke with fiery passion
and that would last for ten seconds
or so on a movie screen.


From the upper corner an unseen ghostly hand
recording what is happening in the writing on the wall

holds a great feast and drinks from the vessels

that had been looted in the destruction of the First Temple. ..

The terrified Belshazzar calls for his wise men,

but they are unable to read the writing.

It says: I struggle to survive.
Everyone who ever hated me,
eating sandwiches and sowing leather jackets
that I pay on a loan,
then all of the things in leather, I cannot even recall all of it.


They filled my suitcase, set aside my things

in it as if they were laying
my corpse in a sarcophagus .
Who are these people?
How come there are so many good intentions in this…

They must have been practising their skills for centuries in…


All those precious things I do to survive.

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