A Revolution. 

​In the night, we dreamed of sleeping on shiny white sands with the moon watching over our stars. In the day, we dreamed of running away beyond the seas, leaving our soft footprints so that others could follow. And by the time we woke up, we had lost something that felt like a battle; a battle that had claimed our sands, our stars and our dreams.



Meet me in the backyard
Where we buried our future;
A future with colours
And houses and puppies.
Meet me tonight
With a shovel and a pick;
Let us hope no one else
Has dug it all out.
Meet me in our dreams;
Dreams you’ve had of me,
Dreams I’ve had of you,
Dreams we’ve had of us.
Come, let us start digging
Find our little coffin,
Jump into the abyss
Holding our hearts
In our sweaty palms.

Nights, Days, and Dreams.

Let us wake up in the night,
Look for each other,
Find a comfy fit,
And go back to sleep.

Let us sleep into the noon,
Dream about what might happen,
A year ahead from now,
While we’re still here.

Let us open our eyes,
Against the beautiful orange dawn,
That we painted on our French windows,
On some morning that we cannot recall.

Let us sleep some more,
Arms tangled over each other,
Kisses dried on our lips,
Love stuck like cotton in our nostrils.

Just Another Night.

Pitch-dark souls roam the roads outside your house. Groaning and sniffing, they try to find you sleeping peacefully in your seemingly safe haven, inside the comforts of your life. They walk with silent footsteps that pull your mind open to dreams vivid and unreal. They are the night. The large flakes of darkness that hides all the light. They’re everywhere. In the sky, shining their starry eyes. In the shadows, in the wrinkles of time and space. You think there will be light, soon. But you think wrong. You’re stuck. 

Where the Wile Things Are.

Sleep is trying to sew my eyelashes close. The need is mine to stay awake. I don’t want to miss the point of time when you smile in your sleep. Dreaming of the craziest things. Dreaming the forgotten future. As the wind plays with the curls that fall on your forehead, I try not to laugh, when I fill with pride that I am part of you. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m a part of your dream too. Just something you might see like a flash in front of your eyes when you wake up in the middle of the night. Maybe I’m just the shadow of something you’ve always wanted. Maybe I’m just a Placebo effect. Maybe I don’t exist anywhere. Maybe I’m omnipresent and so obvious that you can’t see me. I might be God.