ALL IS KEPT HERE

Neptune in the first: We don’t know much about us, we just know there is a lot of us to give. I am everyone and everything, the cosmos is a part of me and I am a part of the cosmos. Little pieces of me fly through the air between us, kissed by the muses, I don’t know if I will be able to recollect them ever again.

Neptune in the second: All I have is all I give. Coins transform into cotton candy, I feed it to the cloudy sheep in the sky and well, I do not care. Art is in my heart, music runs through my veins. Forever I will sit in my little sea shell, waiting for the better days to come. I will cling onto your sleeves, hold me close to your chest, closer, closer, make me one of yours.

Neptune in the third: All I speak is fairytales that I dream about every single night. The concept of words and cold numbers is harder to coprehend than my own sun kissed naivity. My brothers, take me by the hand and count the flowers on the field with me, for I don’t need my teachers words to cage me. Why bothering being present, when in my dreams I can fly over the city at night?

Neptune in the fourth: My home is my castle, my home is my hell. I don’t know much about the past but I feel my ancestors calling me from the bottom of the ocean. Mom has been absent, dead has been irritated, there was just me and my lonely big heart, waiting for another hungry hug to suffocate me - lonely appreciating every ray of light that shone through the bars of my window. 

Neptune in the fifth: There is dimmed lights in me that crave to be freed. I take my brush and paint away the pain. Lover, be my muse, lover, be my savior, lover, let me kiss your soul and interwine our souls, for we are both gods that need to create and destroy till we fall apart and become one with the earth again.

Neptune in the sixth: Holy Marie, how much do I need to give, how many times do I need to sacrifice? My body, the tempel - its ruins lay in front of my feet and the days are passing by without me realizing what I intend to do. Isn’t there more to the story? Isn’t there more to see, less to give? Oh holy Marie, one last prayer..

Neptune in the seventh: We believe in the cosmos, we believe in souls being connected by fate. Haven’t you always wanted to be the hero? Being a part of my  life was my  greates wish, but oh when will I finally be a part of yours? I see you, kissing me, hugging me, but why does your touch sting then? After all, why do my wounds open yet again?

Neptune in the eighth: I have seen something behind the horizon. I saw the face of death, the face of the devil, I have heard their voices, screaming my name, I will write their last words on my heart. Heart and body long for yours in my deepest dreams, only to find myself with headaches in an empty bed the next morning. I see no clear boundaries, heaven and hell are mixing, slowly. 

Neptune in the ninth: The weird feeling of being driven to another souls purpose longs in me. My eyes desperately jump from one image to another: everything has a soul, everything is alive, everything is speaking to me. Is it faith? Is it karma, my past life telling me to sit patiently on top of the mountain? Or is it me, tying my own hands and feet, starving, suffocating?

Neptune in the tenth: How I see myself, is not how you perceive me, no - in fact you do not know me at all. My mind is a labyrinth waiting to be solved and crossed, being unclear of what turn I will take next. My hands reach for something that maybe doesn’t even exist and oh, what a painful thought of tripping, falling, never making it back on ones own feet again.

Neptune in the eleventh:It was always me taking the hands of the broken, the used, the stray dogs and putting them in one anothers. Ah, so many beautiful faces, so many people, so many things to change, peaceful times to come..but why is it always me, crying when feeling like an empty vessel again, feeling like never reaching my goals, feeling like being the stray dog myself, left behind, kicked and used?

“… [L]ove isn’t some kind of passive entertainment or fleeting hunger; love involves serious ontological reconfigurations. Or at least there’s a thing that happens, when you grow to know a person, when that person is smart, creative, and kind, when they can surprise you, see the same things you can see, and behave with either such compassion or regularity that you can relax your shields around them, where they become qualitatively more real to you. Almost as real as yourself. Where your mirror neurons jiggle and dance in tune with them, a ghost of them moving alongside you at all times.