The other day I made a sketch.



A diagram of how things should be,

are supposed to be, but is not,

a plan so clear.



A guide that I wanted to follow.
A goal for the future.



But,

plans were alive as long as I had the compass left.



I ran around, pulled in all the threads at once,

trying to find traces of order in disorder.



I flew around the world.

Lap for lap,

lost track of time while I was sailing in the clouds.



Floating in the mist of milk,

searched more than I could manage to find.



I tried to find all the pieces that had disappeared.

The invisible parts of the secret in life.

The pieces are there, right in front of me, which I can not see.



But life is complicated, unpleasant, complicated

and uncontrolled.



I fall like the rain runs off into the drains.

Nothing left, the water becomes diluted by the rain.

Nothing is left, just a desire for more rain.



Lost, misplaced, can you show me the way out?

All sketches, plans, is perhaps nothing worth.

Do you know how to do, just make the order to disorder.



Do you recognize the painful restlessness that pulls in all directions?

It crawls under your skin.

Want to get out, but can not find the way,

as before, it seeps out, thrown out.



Restless words, anxious words,

the water runs off, between the lines ...