I have entered my name on Wu-Tang Name Generator (yes, because of Childish Gambino) and I got Profound Dreamer!! Seems appropriate.


Fool of a Heart



My dear heart,

You beat yourself up

To such little odds

You feed up my mind

With these naive thoughts

I don´t know if you deserve

Punishment or reward

For planting seeds

That may never grow

Fool of a heart,

Full of hope

All I see are flowers

Even though

I step on thorns

And still, you try…

Tell me, heart

Are you brave

Or are you just blind?


From the East Side Gallery, Berlin.


Snowflake people,

Manifestation of a generation

Of ages of profit and production

We are taught

Not to feel, but to perform

Our emotions are hidden

Amongst the other billions

Searching for a spot

We must always do better and better

How can we matter?

I wish I was special

I want to stand out

Let me gain a voice

Even if in a racket choir

Let me write my mind

Even if I am so damn blind

To the truth, if there ever was one

We seek it, we are

Indigos, empaths, neo-hippies

We make theories about conspiracies

We release them

On channeled screens

Who dares to think like me?

Who can relate to me?

But do you have your own opinions

In this mass of critics?

Go ask Algorithm,

I think it´ll know

Who you should follow

Just don´t swallow

All you can read

At a half a second click

Be aware of baits

Yes, we are not at all perfect

But we are not the weakest

Link to the past

There are no good old days

Better than the premise of changing the ways

To stop monetization at the expense

Of Mother´s deterioration

We´ve reached today´s position

Through our elder populations

So let´s unite

And let all rainbow colors shine

We don´t want to feel like robots

We want to create robots who feel

I wonder if they will be

Much better than we are

What if we also had buttons to press

And stop whatever mess

We may do to ourselves?

So raise your head from your devices

Open your eyes, your heart, your borders

Over our walls is the only way

To see beyond these uncertain days.


Once you strip

To the core of your insecurity,

Unprotected in the open

Field of sun and sand.


When it´s you and the mirror

Enclosed in the cubicle.

Too close to ignore.

Too bright to stare.







Some will say you worry too much,

As if you were a frivolous girl.

Some will say you stopped caring

And let yourself go.


Because after all,

You should just be “you”.

When within catalogued pages,

They will fuck you too.

But I still write

I know it´s pointless.

But I still write.

That´s what I do whenever my chest feels heavy.

Or my throat gets sore.

Writing puts my feelings under control.

Emotions are clothes all over the bedroom floor.

Writing is a loving mother that folds them into a pile.

I do have great emotional needs.

I am trying to find out where the drain is.




I will turn into a plant

I have a feeling

At any moment

I will be able to put

My hand through my chest

For I think I am

Fading out

Into my own head

As a black hole

My obscure thoughts

Take me in

An eternal spectator

I will be

I keep forgetting

I should speak

I am getting invisible

Already it feels

Nobody sees me

I think I will disappear

I´ve met people

They don´t know I exist

I´ve written words

Nobody reads

My hands don´t touch hands

Vegetable as I am

I´ve made roots in my bed

I will turn into a plant

I will turn into a plant

I will turn into a

I will turn

I will





At peace


What a pleasant surprise,

This sudden peace

In your absence.

I thank my heart

Who allowed itself

A rest again.

It pumped out

Our damaged pieces

For days on end.

It left my mind

With our beautiful moments

I had almost dismissed.

I don´t long for your presence.

Your absence warms me

As only good experiences can.

As only great memories can.

As only letting go can.

As if you never left.

Too bad you´re not here to see it.