I feel you here around
your presence haunts me now...

When friends of the world
come into site...

Written from the perspective of a German...
I want to go home...

Say your sorrys
and walk away...

[it's a song]
where is the gusto, gusto...

Sweeping Winter Wind
Go now from the waking Sun...

This life was not meant for me...
i am too stubborn...

I am the puzzle piece
from a different box...

My thoughts follow me
becoming my behavior and myself...

I hate Christmas lots
screwed up minds of little tots...

Identity is found
In the darkest of thought...

All my poems have gone raunchy and bad lately so...
If I gazed into your eyes...