I want to see the core of you

Dissect me to the core.

Shed light into the darkness

Scream my name, show me more

Of you.

If you want to find me, I will be in the middle ground.

Locked inside.

Nobody knows that

Beauty lies behind closed doors

And dark rooms.

Locked inside.

Guardians holding the gates

Kissing your forehead and keeping you company at night

While nobody can look inside.

Although, the shadows sees them all

Like a sunny day in July.

Hoping that you can find the key and see inside.

If you are not scared.

Μοντέρνα Δουλεία

Ζωή δίχως ελευθερία, μια συνεχής εκπόρνευση για να επιβιώσεις.

Άλλοι δουλεύουν το σώμα τους, άλλοι την ψυχή τους.

Ανταλλαγή του πολύτιμου χρόνου σου,

του λιγωστού χρόνου σου,

για λίγες στιγμές υποτιθέμενης ελευθερίας.

Μοντέρνες πόρνες,

είτε πίσω από γυαλί, 

είτε πίσω από οθόνες

πουλούν υπηρεσίες.

Μοντέρνες πόρνες που υπογράφουν

Τα συμβόλαια θανάτου.

Άλλωτε για σαρκικές απολαύσεις,

Άλλωτε για αγγαρείες.

Άλλωστε αν δεν θέλεις υπάρχουν τιμωρίες.

Εργασίες δούλων

Για μικρό φιλοδώρημα.

Για ένα ψίχουλο που δεν φτάνει ούτε για τα βασικά, μονάχα για το φρόνημα.

Για μια όμορφη αλυσίδα στο χέρι

Για ένα παροδικό λημέρι

Για ένα όμορφο σκοινί στο λαιμό

Για έναν όμορφο τρόπο να αποδράσεις μια για πάντα από εδώ.

Some thoughts.

It is correct, and I am almost sure about that now; In order to be made into something better, you have to risk your complete destruction. You can't change something that already has a form. You need to be dust first and then shape yourself from the start. But first you have to purify the material or you are going to create a monster. 

Walk of Pain

Feel?
Do not ask me how I feel.
Because I live in the land of broken bones
And dreams.
Where there is no tomorrow.
Today I die
After the past tortured my soul.
Yes, I do feel though.
I wish I didn't.

This cruel world
First it kills your head
And then your body.

So don't ask me how I feel.
Those who used to know me
Know how I feel when I write.

The familiarity of it.
The pounding bomb
Ready to crash.

The Creator.

The brush makes the line

While you hold it in your hand.

Delicate, smooth.

Creation

Of mine.

Now you know where to walk on.

Like a pattern cleverly designed

A child cheating on a test

Of life.

Giving life to imagination 

Like a mage creating out of spirit.

Little conjurer

Of time. 

Giving matter forms

Through it you are forged

In love, from love.

In time.

With water below

And fire within yourself.

Body and breath

Blood and soul.

Oneness.

A circle

A cycle

A line.

Personal letter.

Existence

A fine thread

Delicate, fragile.

Carving poems while holding the knife

Can't decide

Whether to cut the thread forever

Or my arteries

And then write with my blood

Filling all the blank pages I was never able to fill with words.

Blood drops falling on the papers of my lifebook.

Like it's the finest handwriting you could ever see.

The Eternal Cycle

In nature you are closer to the gods. You are closer to the natural forms, the original manifestations of the natural forces of the universe. The untamed spirits of the world, little pieces of the divine, that are in fact untouched and free and hidden inside until released to worlds unknown.

But everything that exists within the universe is nature. It is in fact natural and organic. Even it is manmade or not, even it is beautiful or not, good or bad, because man is made of the natural elements within our cosmos so it is impossible for something unnatural to exist within the world. Man cannot make something out of nowhere, he can just recreate something that already exists, and change it into something else. So we give nature the form we actually think, because before everything there is always the thought of it. Thoughts manifest into matter and the cycle repeats for eternity. That's why man is made into god's image, he is a creator but he creates within the natural limits, he gives shape and purpose to life around him. It is illogical to say that man has gotten away from nature because that is impossible. It's his thoughts that manifest bad things out of natural elements that are in fact bad. Because art imitates life and life imitates thoughts. 

A Modern Oracle

Eyes are the windows of the soul.

And my intuition has many.

What is a captain without his ship?

I ponder, and read inside the map of stars

to guide me to the right way.

Observer

Always a kind observer.

Never a part of their world.

Never a part of their circle.

Never a part of them.

Always a lone ghost

Aware of my presence

Still ignoring that presence though

And that's the best part of it.

Because I can judge

Without the emotional baggage of the world.