Everything Colapsing

Struck By Lightning

Struck by Lightning (feat. Cavetown)

Why I Broke Up With You

Why I Broke up With You

The Daughter That My Mother Wanted

Tantrum

Quiet

My summer love

Creation is the core of positive freedom. If we are going on in creation, we will really stay free.

Freedom Remains

Forever Meant For You

Spill The Beans

thoughts

They say it’s peaceful when you pass.
That the world slips away.
But no one says what it’s like
to still be here,
in the back row of your own funeral—
without a name badge,
just watching.

I drifted in like smoke on coats,
Still knew the route from childhood roads.
Same brick church, same leaning tree,
Everyone dressed like grief was a rule to keep.
Cousin Jamie hugged Mum tight,
Uncle Pete said, “He fought the good fight.”
They handed out sheets with my name in bold—
I read the words but didn’t feel old.

They grieved like echoes in padded walls,
Said nice things in careful stalls.
But no one mentioned my daughter’s laugh—
The only thing that truly lasts.
I watched, unheard, among the rows,
AWOL in the afterglow.

She came in holding Nana’s hand,
Little pink boots kicking at the sand.
Shouldn’t’ve brought her—was my first thought,
But then… she reached for something I forgot.
They gave her crayons and a paper rose,
She drew on the back—my name in gold.
I knelt beside her, mouthed "I'm here,"
She didn’t flinch… but blinked a tear.

They Grieved, She Knew
They wept like rain on closed-up days,
She stared right through the fog and haze.
No one spoke of her midnight fears,
But she’s the only one who still hears.
I stayed, invisible in the flow,
AWOL, but she still knows.

Casket’s pine. Earth’s soft and clean.
They dropped in lilies, and one ice cream wrapper—
she said it was "Daddy’s favourite thing."
Mum looked up, said nothing new,
But I saw her lips move, maybe just “you.”
A robin blinked from the leaning cross,
I almost followed—almost got lost.

But then she turned and looked at the air,
Eyes like mine, just unaware.
And for a breath, the world went still,
Like something else had bent its will.
She doesn’t know, but she’s my thread,
The line that holds me from the dead.
And something deeper than grief unfurled—
A quiet knowing:
There’s still work in this world.

I thought this was the end.
But she still draws me in crayon gold.
And maybe that's where the real story begins.

AWOL

The Wind

Like A Fallen Rainbow .mp3

Lazy Sunday Morning

All the Time (in the World)

Number05

Music is my expression. People might be seen as weird or extreme, but really they just have an unusual innocent way of doing things. Use empathy and hear someone’s point of view before making your own assumptions. Fun facts: Ich bin Deutsch and I love Pandas. Hope you all have a good day.

Disco Sword(If you know, you know): trash11.com#1664

thoughts

ErKaN

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