Insert year here

2K Dot XX was the worst year
of my life
I mumble under my breath.
Something that would mean a lot
for a guy
who witnessed his mum
pull a knife on herself
at a too young age,
doing anything other than cry.
But this year
my dreams
died for a bit;
nothing kept me going;
I couldn’t afford to eat
and a lit
night at the end of the tunnel
was all
I wished for.
But still, a lot left to do
a lot left I care for
in secret
distant
agony.
What are we?
Nothing
I am nothing too.
A suffering man
should turn wisely
a hell-hound/wolf cross mix-breed.
On the hunt but
trapped, tamed
he might be able to prepare for what to expect
but safety makes a softy
and surrender to
himself the nightmare haunts the Predator
a leering shadow
over a dog collar
choked on a face by the lack of oxygen.
Naah, too easy.
This is the year
I actually could have achieved everything
and I am clear
-ly
at a breaking point
and I can’t deny
what a fuckin’ human
eye can see.
2k xx
was not my year
nothing came close
nothing came near
I imagined for me
but we can still clink glasses over dreaming
a great mystery
what I really want
all seems
a part of my mood
and so small on bigger days;
and a lot of things
I want forgot
But 20 and some years more
was my year
because I am responsible
for it;
let’s make it clear
I took some matter
into my own hands.
Sometimes 4D chess
Self-responsible
as life demands
and I am still trying
with my own hands
to make it a little better
Every day
a step to responsibility…
Suicide though
is still a joking matter;
believe me, tragedy happens
how you approach it however
is who you are.
2 millenniums
+ some decades of years
– not roman letters –
was a crazy year
I learned to live
adapt myself as much as I had to
overcame some fear;
make them pale and made my heart listen again
it is still hard to talk from heart
time will come
still much to learn
but I will listen every day.
Everyday…
a little more wounded
but I am ready to even
drag extremities as dead-weight
over finish lines
– that’s the thing
scars are marks
for makers:
DaVinci didn’t have
the hands
of a
french,
milk bathing
princess
and I am not defeated
might end as undead
but it is better
than wasted potential;
living,
breathing
potential.
I might not be here to build stone monuments
but I’d like to own
a garden one day.

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