the words miserable and memorable are too much alike
as in an empty letter
that does not fit any of the categories we know of
i do not hear much anymore with the knowledge that
i have buried my left ear deep into the pillow
it seems to help a bit

my throat seems a bit blackened in the back as
peppered people will not dare to admit
there is something to say for hanging out of a window that
looks out on the cats of the neighbours downstairs

as peppered people will not dare to admit there
is something to say for sleeping with no intervals on
some levels this is a normal morning i
do not eat meat anymore no one offers to do the dishes
for me i watch while you eat and break what remains of yesterday
down the middle

and then i imagine we
are laying together on the bed
that is the universe
the streets feel softer
i have found some feathers
in my armpit and we are
all angels we jump we
jump we can see how we
bow to each other

whether it matters anymore to look to look
to count who of us is fuller of night does  
sensibility disappear every time it appears

i have been called upon more than once and understand
that the most poignant statues of Pygmalion are
built on misery and

how much more can my feet disappear in insomnia
through my imagination's door a myriad of beautiful things are hidden that make me cry i am so touched

how much distance is needed between
three decaf days to
still feel it feel it

i decapitate my presence
my existence leads its own life: with a curious
personality a somehow experiencing courtesy

ergo my inner landscape: conversations between an
infinite essayist and a
grounded grounded devilish being

i categorise everything like
the sound of nails and crystal chalice and angel voices stray in a
circle of dirt and head on my chest

good morning to all in your lines
lick your fingers clean fiercely let me
remark something of desiring value:

how are those nests you all hold high above your heads
i can see handfuls of spider webs
i sit nailed into a wall

breathing feels so nice at
the turning point of the year
will everything be upside down
will i be learned
we will see we will see

to breath in once more
and then it is over
in pivoting snowflake-lights
in whirls to breath in once more
and then it starts all over the
pivoting

the pivoting around a dot and the
walking down a line
the balance between our hands this
high in my lungs that i
choose to hold in/put aside/put on everything
of the breaths that that is safer

at night we stand still
look over our shoulders
something is still flickering turning
snowflake-lights or something more beautiful
that only we own

close your eyes i do not want you to see this
only feel it and there is nothing up
my sleeves
a bird that you are lands with
imprints in my shoulders where
i stand firmly i dare
to stand still

THE ANSWER HERE IT IS!
writing in white is easier instead of speaking
because none of the words are real
consider a new use of margins

reliving reliving eight-teen and none of the snow hopefully
and none of the cold blue blue please makes me sad

IN MY HEAD EVERYTHING IN ARROWS AND ALWAYS
POINTING AT HEADS HEADS THUNK

HAPPY me in a supersonic spacious ship landed on earth really here
like really really here with my thoughts as roots around feet
stupid thoughts make me trip and fall my
hands scratched open and i scratch my arms open as well
nice old habit

stranger do you remain home cosily cosily do not trash yourself
do not log in your fingernail tips

so i can air myself in minus four and
think think think about paste paste paste

SOME REVELATIONS WHEN READING FLAUBERT:
-fantasy world is unsafe and real real world is fake and harm
-cry over made up situation every day
-IS THAT AN HYPOTHESIS?
-YES you are dumb and smart at the same time
-mostly: I AM SUPERIOR LIKE A BIG IDIOT

good friends
mere acquaintances like romanticising devoid of hope and despising with determination in one split second
...

Feast!
Death and Disaster!
Call in the mothers and fathers, my youth owns the streets!

After all that reminiscing about Friday,
I broke my computer,
I lay in bed,
Bleeding heavily,
Hysterically laughing,
Everything is fine.

new definition of that there are no set solutions no
promises are real i am
in a dark room tried to undo myself
from all the hair ties it is haywire
disaster i'm bleeding everywhere
i'm sorry like electronically waves
sometimes i think about suicide and
then i wouldn't know how much deeper i can
dig i would be Thanatos and nothing else i will just keep going
going smash my face on the floor little
spatters a carve a wineglass in my veins so
i am red on the outside like i am
red and fire on the inside

there can be only one conclusion
we're all terrified and outside is
terrible and in me there are terrible
doors and like a car crash they're all so wide open
and our love is wide open like a bleeding eye and
closed like me at lunch time and by
spring i will be completely empty or opened again it all means
the same thing and at spring or
at lunch time i can't tell the difference anymore
i'll be completely apathetic i will look at
you from a frontal point of view and i will say
i can't feel my legs they do not
take me anywhere anymore all i want is to
have a window to look
out maybe i will see you walking down the street
and i'll hear that music playing in my head

i was thinking of how we behave as cinema
creatures in dark theatres strenuous thumbs
you crawl up to me and become the smallest man in
humanities little hairlocks between
kisses how you raise my elbow to
bring my fingers near your lips how
you raise my elbow

you said feet are a medium for
intimacy and i can't put down
my heels on the streets like i used to

you were never strange you were
always far away and i was always holding up a magnifying glass to
remember every detail always in preparation i was always
holding up a magnifying glass i was always in love i was
always in love

you are standing on the top of
my tree-trunk head you are a beautiful
bird and i am handing
you your wings
i swear i love you excruciatingly
am crushed under your bird feet

lift me up and you never
will and will you ever let me go
can i lift myself out of this dirt or
am i planted like this for now

i enlist whatever i acquiesce
i juxtapose comparisons i drown
myself in learning about the awful ways
of life and lingering

i am controversialist
exceptional conversationist empty
boudoir tired Heidegger
how did i come into waking can i turn
my back one more time

this is not spread out on my skin
this is a foreign object in my house this
is not idle perplexuation this is

stomping grounds metal clinging
clans this is not idolatry this is
not the truth but i but us this is hurricane
horizontal but i but us we are quite
a bit but i but us

something so bright and supernova in
you i must bury my snout in

clamouring for hyperreality like a
shield like a mirror i hold out to
everyone in which i see myself so that i no
longer have to be there
can transgress as an entire cloak-from

when did the smoke leave your palms