mathematics state that the line in the middle of my chest
is a border

where blood passes over to purple
where i pass over to you (some thoughts)

i sort myself out trash myself another me
wants control
another me screams something about shells
that i should put them over my ear shells i should
never listen to your paper voice (is it weak)
never listen to gravity it proves i cannot ever fall harder or
faster or with more impact still i feel more impact
something has changed and no branch of science has the means to prove it i am standing alone with my feelings

i pass the border in myself then
split myself into two halves

someone that still longs for absurdity
someone else that has long sharp fingers
ticks on the table counter until multiple punctured holes manifest
present my patience dissolved

i am punctured
my brain counter top leaks through my ear shells into the leaves of grass where i sit present
and am writing that you mop through my thoughts
please do not aggravate the mess

show me you can be split in half (double identity)
luminous today
******* scraps of me tomorrow
and kissing and kissing and kissing

it's enough to just guard the frail
borders of our relationship
it's a dress spread out i'm sewing
even before it's falling apart
because i feel like it
the fabric is soft and smells like you
i want to sleep in it

for three weeks i have been inarticulate

i woke up all solidified and my eyes strong
fixated on Matthyon you are grotesque dream
alike rosé cheeks the sour cream kind
dusted with finger prints we parade
in cities sick in dust cities in
parchment we remain fragile
they get fingered

i had to ask for Matthyon's
name your spelt-out request you
came to me held a finger up for
every letter carefully, mysteriously
my new alphabet

Matthyon we fought each other for bread
in white rooms i dusted my cheeks with
yeast; saw you bore the mark
drawn on pages the male curiosity in dust
makes me cough
the pride i have slumbers

you waved and smiled with rosé fever
Matthyon alluding to how my dreams may express feelings and love
how the question was cut out of my flesh
i want this to be well done

Matthyon the clouds do not often agree on the psyche of the human being
untransparant down there
it slips through their fingers; blood stains appear in the sky
on those evenings only

and i'm finding part of it
in the pages of parchment bibles
make me dust off my puffed
embarrassed cheekbones
i look up
i split meat from bone
i want this to be well done

last night i broke my stone plate you brought the glue
as usual i was the one to lash out
how do you deal with that in your own home
all glueless perhaps a little cracked now

you kept showing me your hands
how they created my stone chest even
before i knew you it must be that you created
me; i just fit perfectly in your palms

you kept showing me your hands
i had to objectify; then confessed my visions
me being a stone bird (somehow weightless)
sailing over all material things
they don't appeal to me anymore
even my body seems too real too harsh
i dare to look at myself in soft focus only

in my visions i am an all-alone-stone all
surrounded by your hands
last night the bird has shed her wings to
reveal she was a bat all along
a female Dracula she bends over
***** the stone cold blood out of her self-slits

i try to wake up now and then
in my visions my body is off
way worse my scars are on my knees instead
of my wrists and it is true i have
fallen down so many times

i think about the moon on my back sizzling
how i carry it dot by dot the whole
weight how my parents should never see
what i am up to or how i do not feel
real here nor there last night i have been
envisioned; i surrender

and your hair is all in chains it
weighs you down i know
you flutter like a flag and you are red

but shall we lie down together in pink
should clear skin up
pink baby skin doll
doll pink skin baby
baby doll skin rosé
i am proud and continually laughing

you are a rose bouquet i get the complete
package
you are so
rosy so soft smelling
sensual

it's just that i was looking at everything through rose-coloured
frames calmed me down so to say
still all your red flags looked like regular flags stammering

EVERYTHING ALWAYS IS PINK to you
your lips are soft but they are not
big enough to kiss the whole world

-the female body
is the most pretty pink
the most gorgeous softness-

shall i put on your glasses
can i see everything through your eyes
before your eyes
will that be enough?

there we were
we were just like water so close
me perhaps being a bit brusque
correction: crashing unto you
you soft flowing
you still taking me in asking for a sip
we were so thirsty both of us dry
our little rain kingdom in a month
changed became a desert barren

i am sorry for wanting all different streams
me being queen oceaan
all the different streams to come out
near me i still want you near me
i am sorry for not knowing how
and i see your water running deep low foundation
warning: he has sudden currents inside

not sure if i want to swim against
still i do know about dipping the tip of my fingers
i want to hear you clattering when i sleep being safe

About leaving she wrote
I see you more clearly now
Though you spew boiling oil aimed for my lips
You spew that I should not talk in difficulties
I get it: things are like other things
You get it: you'll talk to me when it starts raining again

About remind me she wrote
If she could file herself safely
In between two maps she would
What to do with all this confusion and heartache
In love would not have to think twice
He was not in my map anyway

Do not send me away
Do not send me away
Let me at least peer through half-closed lids

you should watch me while i breathe
because at night i don't
at night i try not to think about
too much or you at night
i look down obey myself all the
lights are out
i turn within myself think about
all those shaky breaths how i try to
stop them
when the beast in me stamps
when it licks my wounds
it does that too
i prefer to be alone at least a part of the night
it wasn't like this before
but all the waves tired me
i want to close my eyes in cool
softly running tap water

whether the shells of the earth
yawn and lay down their arms over-through-around
each other i do not know
or the connectedness
all the houses all lit up
and the network stretches all
over the earth's shells
i do know myself in shells
myself though fully wired
on the level-online most
of the time
i sense a disconnection in
myself never fully satisfied
spacing between breaths eyes all tones of brown hair
(why do they all have brown hair?)
clicking my tongue in mouths
left on read entering reality in a manic-hyper-way type of way
often i do not know what of
myself is real beats away
for whom lowered tired legs on bed frames
from walking days lays down in company

i think i got pleasured today
though i'm not too sure
all the days are blending into
multitudes-lists; detailed studies of
colours jump-cuts freeze-frames
names of people whose lives i
should know about
and their works

i'm pretty sure i smoked today
and i will do it again
fulfil myself
as an existentialist
for her it is about laying down on the ground
but the meaning is different to me
i must take off and be free

they're probably still somewhere in the forest
the Red one discovering
vengeance; the forest from beginning till the end and
even the roads
no trace but then
up above in the
window stood He, his face and his lips
he was licking suggestively
saw and ran

"as if it
wasn't enough the hundreds of hours"

there was no trace but
He had succeeded
standing completely outside and very

"why you wanted
me" bitterly, "i have figured you out. i am
completely something-someone
visible"
then they called him the last disaster changed into
a Constellation
upset: imagine. did i
overextend for Him-

"let us go home" i have
beauty

"there the dog is" Red coming into being suddenly; that
better back

and always the wild cheers
and always the new flushes of neo-bubbles the golden
spritz the extravaganza the flow the flush again the flush the witch

if only the dark brew the clear foam of necks scaled and breaks-evens
if only four miles without eye's sighs and brown leaves of life crumpled under gloved feet the feast blaming jupiter for everything

so the plain thigh calls out dedramatise me lip my inner skin
so turnover your glass nose stiff mouth bloodshot shin it’s partaking
at one to five in the morning should bed’s seconds allow it

so i am wondering do you ever think of me
if only in shifted night vision wine-blurred mind drifting
and always a little bit melodramatically nostalgically charged, lovely

noodles is for distant
people)
the plant; which milked
on me
or might be my spit

(it was

have to clean off the
clouds
sky looks a bit damp
on me two
legs are undergoing

love-

your small mushroom
alone
in a delicious room
layered
this is the neo-frontier

in overwrought knots i lay afloat
how does the
how does the chest not disintegrate into
darkest matter not even my feelings can be seen from space
still i feel and as if i am littlest changing

i am walking through dark energy keep
bumping into hidden thumps hidden dumps thriving
holding doubts into one hand clasping change into the other
i wish i could be one millionth of the feelings stirring

i could walk within walls would see you for who you are
the feeling are like nebulas they cloud me yet
are so vibrant like so stains quite a spectacle

neither the past stains nor the rain paths emerged could
stipple out where rays reach me and should be the truth teaching

long may the straying feelings travel

you are now responsive you are now here you are running and
i understand
i am running too though i don't know what from
can't seem to sense my
enemy, should there be one he must be like the moon
am i like the moon do i even understand
what that means have i not fallen upwards have i not
hit my head on the moon or
the ceiling
hard to tell when the eyes they flee from me
am i not transparant am i not marvelling am i not
alone should i not see alone
i am attached to you like an anchor i have flushed
the water over my head and flushed away in me
whatever understood that situations
like this might be unique i
crumble your candy between my fingers and moan
i am a raven pull my belt tighter around my waist and fall
of the roof the ants are running
my fingers the driveways the spider
is laughing in a corner my wrists are painted
red i am in a bunk bed can only reach you through copper wires
tomorrow i'll run to the city

THROW IN AT DEEP END I
I if flame unattainable
I love flames feel inner softly
some breath sometimes in me
me falls me falls me falls
"excursion: left cardiac valve"
right here, I unafraid great mount
remember amount and to me freedom
shown scream stick to me
and why people sleep only
shadows here is burn my room

THROW IN AT DEEP END II
the waves break upwards: Sisyphus
the waves break downwards: my chest
the time breaks upwards and my
eyes follow the fall, I admit I fall

THROW IN AT DEEP END III
you might be space major and shall
we build each other's closeness and you have
so many hands that I am a bouquet
of lines, a visual thump, a
one-man-party, a red apparition
a study in Red, a song of whisper, a
blue card on white wall we forget I am a
tourist

i thought summer into my heart

many sunflowers curling blonde upside down; down small
golden tears like locks of that is good chance

i will be in good chance

that is; i thump horses into my heart

they thump and they thump must be
that my heart is a beach

each horse grey waved equally curtained, elegant, shy

red veils, which reminds me: i am red
little children, which reminds me: i crown myself young

i am the heir of rays of youth
sunbathing; the heiress calms down

galloping i am ready for fields of summer

miles of summer, miles of red veils, the waves of calmness

millions of grey waves, thumping
slowly unveil themselves to be brightly, a myriad ways parting

can we build on it?
for now i have been simply purling
and stones around me green and smooth tell me
the water would have been ankle-deep
if i lifted my head out of these
ankle-deep waves i could
take a clearer guess
how i am actually feeling all accreted
to the riverbed
but can we build on it?
is this rock really steadfast because
i feel in these waters i need more stones
and build a dam to stop all of the
gushing or i might be
on the other side of the dam
slowly drowning myself while
i build

even Camus is at a loss:
"what i'm getting at is that the emptiness
should be happy i am so
sorry life is absurd in all
sorts of airplane crashes
and twin towers you'd
expect both of you to go down but
here you are i see you
shrinking without him"
and when i see you in the train cabinet my
heart knocks politely on my ribcage: Are You Okay?
No
and then i realise it wasn't you someone
had the same effect of me latching my eyes onto you wanting
to talk to you wanting to talk to you wanting to
talk to you not wanting to talk to you using
this train for other purposes, example:
How To Disappear Completely
Thom Yorke even apologised for the similarities dear
i know this makes you think of him just listen one more minute it will
hurt just enough the whole world hurts just enough doesn't everything remind you of him? even the others's lips are rough insofar as they scratch memory's fragility oh god
it comes in waves and i push my tail deeper into
the water
du bonheur et rien d'autre
write me another piece of ******* you closed
the door in my face then i put a lock on it and now
i plead i keep on standing in tall grass, tiny horses
and thumbs might **** me

the sun lightly heated my back like a soft blanket and there is another person laying with me
and draws lines from chin to hip
and is soft and sweetly licks my ear lobe in the dark
all of the wrinkles in my body are slightly softer
and i am less sharp to you
i remember a beach and a sea and myself who was standing there alone the water had gone up till my ankles
i was looking for a feeling a purpose a meaning and when the sun rose i could say yes that is it
just like how the sun rises and dives stemming from an eternal duty my brain makes the same images dutifully rise and dive
myself on the beach myself between the sheets myself and all of the waves that come over me whether they were made of water or linen
if i were to go on until all the memories were gone and
only the bad feelings remained i might as well
scoop my brain out of my skull and kick it away like a football
in my part of the universe there is only half of what could have been and not even the good part there is too much muchness
even the headlights know i cannot help it over and over again
i fall into it
and i am not really ******* we are kind of close to each other and still immersed by smoke

excuse me there is a hole in your
face through which i peaked every day
that things were always as they are now
and i wasn't even blind
i was peaking through a transparant sheet
maybe i never even saw you

Eliot remarked do you know that humankind
cannot bear very much reality. that even he was aware
a whole century ago that the one to come
would still have all of this *******
makes me think of a non-existing century
could be my new apartment
and i'll paint the walls

i'll crash into life however
childish that may sound and i'll
break my skull split
myself in half and we have
a puddle of red to practise with
i'm unsatisfied over everything

and i'll jump there's a bottle of red
in the kitchen and i poured it away and now
i regret though might have been for the best
must've turned sour by then
amongst other things i try not to think about

i like how he lives in a room full of himself
that is probably what connects him to the other
young knights
-his obsession with himself
i like how he frosted passion onto his glasses when
i gave him one lick of my sugar glazed eyes
enlarged wine gulped down ready to leave all
he sees when he looks at me anymore is how
passionate i am how passionate i am
(Red i am Sorry)
i like how i've so honestly opened up all kinds of
juice for him to drink up i like how i cry
every night
for
another knight i like how i'm caring for myself by
destroying clean fingers yellow teeth black ink white pants all sorts
of wine in fact i'm scarring myself
i think it's strange how i always have to
stretch my legs out to feel anything
hands around myself every night i'm
laying like a vessel opening myself up there
must be some link to soil, and floored, and fortress

no these spiders are not native to Belgium but
they will crawl inside my mind and make me into some
horrible monster i am always very loud you must
hear me screaming from the other side of the
nebula you are transforming all other brown-haired boys and
trust me there are a lot of brown-haired boys and they're
all you when they come close they can tell
i've betrayed myself

sometimes i wish it were true that
i live inside a renaissance painting i would
be stoic and not
overwhelm people with all of this shakespearean *******
in which no one even dares to be themselves there is
irony on so many levels of the flat i praise myself
a Professional Industrial
i deform time around me i wrap time around me
and parade through some levels some memories and
dream of others's memories and do they ever
crumble away have they ever lain parallel to mine
you are here and you are here
not i am almost transparant

oh he's in pain too
oh he's in pain too
oh he's in pain too
oh he's in pain too
no it's a different kind of pain he
dragged his camper seat all the way to the royal yard
to court all the girls and now
he sits on his little camper seat and is satisfied,
he sits; he is free
oh here's that list of new wave movies if i could speak french i
would recite them in my room throwing a plate at the wall for every word oh here's a Departure i need words, letters, spaces
only will not do
everything is red everything is perishing my shoes split in half, as did my chest
i don't know what to have for breakfast and i'm practising a pool of blood Myles said that hands are from the same family as feelings
that he didn't know where to put them
tomorrow i'm leaving for Mars ground control urged me to strap myself in tightly but i'm not sure i'll be able to hang on perhaps
i want to float; am actively looking for it

i refuse i refuse
for even Allen Ginsberg is ghosting me tonight:
"crying my husband's gone my boyfriend's busted forever my
poetry was rejected
won't you come over for money and please won't you write
me a piece of *******
How are you dear can you come to Easthampton we're all
here bathing in the ocean we're all so lonely"
i am a cigarette once again
and i don't even know what strolling is anymore i am
pounding through life and life
is pounding through me we have
this love hate relationship you know
in the salon of life i am
standing on a cross-road of very well known people and
i am heaving here i am
with all my ******* toothpaste
there are all these young knights who think they can
handle me; euphemisms of me handling myself there
is something about humans being memories that act out
i cross some roads in myself and smoke heavy
(i touch our odyssey and dream of the supermarket, Allen Ginsberg,
i do not know where to go anymore)

become a show
it is all your
memory.
"it was véry good,
not me" that those two hands
understand!
"he ran away" angry and red. "they are
after him to carry your burden. i believe you must know nothing

nothing at all" protecting
herself with fire. "dumb to all bet on the same
man. it's only logical there isn't one for them when they need
him" well, in that case
let us go on with those things
slowly
abandoned. there were no
disappearances. instead there lay
a piece of paper:

"I give thanks passionately for a true feast."

poisoned because of it

blood boiling
anger concentrated on a certain
enemy
"Come -shortly -take me"

what do i know just
not like that we just do not seem to know
our burden
your bitter idea

herded and made themselves believe
they were lost anyway
Surely, caught
the mechanical

"i can't help it" i just have
my own burden. not at
all on the same hill, half of it
He -the other half
Her -to hurt the one half with
the other half. I just have Nothing
"if you had promised him to me"

None of them both
won
"he hád, and that is winning"
we want
"you promised"
growing rebellious in the end
ran away, chose that with a
tear on his heels.
looked down on the ruins of his Mechanical still
cheerful
rancid, "it has not been defined"

cleared up the road
aroused further
"get to your places..."
again he blew
released it
went forward about a meter
stopped
they jumped playfully in exactly the Wrong
direction into the forest, without paying attention
A
murmur could be heard. this is not what they
came for...
"let us try again" as official as
possible
they tried again
called back
with their nose
pushed. what was expected
of them and Waggled their tales
-they understood

cleared up the road. again
aroused and blew
but something had gone wrong, now he wasn't functioning properly
at all anymore,
threw it in the air
chewed on it and walked off in opposite
direction
"what do they do at real races?"
in a hurried rendez-vous

"I propose we just- just lend him.
I believe no one is home. We can
put him back before someone comes home."
no answer
cut him loose. in high spirits
brotherly
for them

now they were ready, the feast
was laid down on the reserved place
private

to flow towards
big business
ceremony of the

written. "For it and on the other
hand Against it" like a
running fire
if you go i bet
you won't win they won't give you

All of the participants
a stranger deserves more at first
sight, more respect than someone we've known our
whole lives, and he looked fit
"i believe he is a real one"
with admiration
firm grasp on both participants, tied them up
then he blew with an important face

time to tie the finish up. he wore his
book of the world somewhat crestfallen
The more he thought about the
system, the more
sullen he became.
"And if they all want good
things and no one wants to make mistakes -give me that"

the others who did feel down under
fulfilled a more important role.
"Oh god, please stop"
in his pocket His
thoughts were still occupied by the
-untraceable rival-

"maybe we'll find one who got lost in the
forest"
suddenly red
backyard of a house. the fence was opened up.
and in the yard was someone

who wagged her tail as she approached

"I do know him" red is Important, "I am his
friend. I have often played with him while no one was at home."

slowly a grandiose idea
broke the silence and
uttered it

against the taller one
belonged to-

He had wanted to hang over the fence
like a literary
complex
an opportunity showed up. imagine
-that was a terrible thought

destroyed his announcement and crawled back
to his path. there he found
a youth that had strayed quite far from
her frontier, looked at the animal in doubt and decided
that it would never and not in any way
not possibly be possible right now
returned empty-handed. still, he
felt better
"we might find something along the way"

a bald
place, they would lay down there and they
carried themselves there carefully wrapped up
skipping aroused
not knowing of the fact that he
was almost to be deployed
Had he known, he would have changed his behaviour
that instant -out of principle
all of those parts in life

the name of the
victor and a rope around the tree

their attention extremely pointed. they
endured on a constant basis -suddenly put a
day
to pleasing relations
The result was
overjoyed. a tremendous party
a couple of bottles and an amount
"most"
after searching long and patiently
on the brim of madness
found That

running as fast as we can
he still seemed to think alone was
enough too. he liked to think of himself as a glorious victor
of the race and then a participant
but he ceded for
ONE

with his redness he wandered across fields and paths looking
for stupidity, as if he
suddenly
The day began and still there was no

announcement

he rose, went straight through
everybody

to those who said he
wouldn't win

"in giving?"
in doing
"what if he loses?"

a couple of minutes of silence
then:
"i'll do something else"
coldness, it is dead-easy

"and who'll come watch?"
red in ardour
"everyone. but they must pay
for it"
then no one'll come. simple.
that it was true
only people
let's not admit others
or those others

in between
a Deep Enmity,
a True War
"oh no! not That one!" satisfaction
all over his face "But
we must let them know we Love. they
will be furious they can't reach up to us"
a couple of days more
to tell the truth

started out totally
occupied
"there should be some refreshments"

wrong; against
"only when it's done quickly
it doesn't matter"
The first difficulty was finding out
how to love
-an open space in a Forest, close to the owner's home
"we'll let them go at this tree"
businesslike face, "and then we'll let them go"
That is the finish and red should be coded
in writing who
Is

"what if they disappear even before they
exist?"
coldness, "that won't happen"
we'll make sure
that won't happen

i've never done this before. how do I
exist?
powerless, lack
irritating
"very ordinary
with some paper" i bet that
i bet that the other one
against everyone, if they can handle it, write down
their names

no one ever found out what could
have been -reservation- and even then
it could have been different
boys tend to stir this delicate
subject
personally, someone-something
hasty they turned to a different aspect

"you cannot keep both when one is
against it"
easy to find
This country is so full of
Yesterday. He had just been
bitten
"and how should we leave them red?"
"i think they'll either play or fight"
naturally
mechanical
complacent with a face like he knew all kinds of things

"well, this is not
our business"
no, done, fervour
exact

one minute later
they were
ignited because of this
it is Good. anyway, it could
be fun
on to the preparations for the race

"then what shall we do?" red
looking, it took care of the
tension
I think with studied nonchalance as if
unaware of the originality of
the change,
had to keep
running, repeating

amazed, expected
something like that, but so
new, so unexpected, so challenging and modern
helplessly repeating
still excessive
and a couple of other people
talking. it seemed very simple. Really Something

first objection
cannot be kept
still

though some people
didn't fit entirely
weak spot

on.

the owner hesitated, saw this servant
over
repeating an old man, really looked forward that
he would do that... Then he would be
mad...

no, no, no.
very uncomfortable. Slap their ears and
let them go
in his pocket
an example
"this is not my slap around their ears"
though i would like to see it happen
it is not on my path to do that...

finally his speech
dramatic
fingers on the old man
and he is
dressed as if
they murdered him and...
eruption; attention
looked at her, then red
then

Then a light filled his eyes
he spoke, "aren't you that

horizon"

strong-looking men... maybe
go back first and...
an older man. i saw
clearly... the others all
young and firm...
washed in doubt. "I don't know
what to do..."

removed the key from
his eye; the door threw
itself forward. And there
eye to eye to Scrag

and his dignity
forgotten: he erupted
he recovered
what does it mean

a hand at red at an ear
his Other the one from
downstairs. there he looked at the
daylight, investigator again
he erupted roaring. again he recovered

Well, what does this all mean?
uttering Scrag, "that is them"
took his leave
to a hole
uncovered
in his most official
manner

locked up. they were captives
"Heaven!" on this path
touched: yes, that is it completely
i was treading the wrong
path, usually treading the wrong path at first, even
in books. he is an abetter. he Is. and he has
himself
to look for

"what should we do now?" nervously
this too happened
in a room
locked up but he had a
murderer opened up and went inside
pulled his
murderer down and directly to her
i said before that it should have been
me; wouldn't have been
bad. the annoying thing is that i don't have one. I...

deep heavy high squealing
the owner
heard, heard
supposedly empty
vacation; a flash
in the room... figures- big strong-looking
door, their nose en locked them
out just to look for you. luckily
i looked for you, your
deep voice perpetually in doubt

And he knows poor old Scrag is dead and
buried in his bed of roses. now let us
speak
to hear nothing anymore
the owner had
enough

first time:
wrong
explanation

"upstairs, hurry!" the old man
opened up to a leader
to a small bedroom
opened a small crack his ear
tacit then whispering hoarsely
"i will tell you
something. i believe that he too is after
Scrag and dressed up like him
to cause no suspicion. That's what i think in the
Mystery. exactly a man like that. There"

red in Whispers: "come here
in his garden; he's spraying
refusal again on his bed of roses"
hanging frontally forwards

poison surely
death He...
giant
fear; suddenly locked up and
turned upside down. after that the sound
drifting tried the door

solemn disappearance of
Scrag...
his silhouette
in actuality Red being in deep Doubt
his silhouette near
he's done something to his neck
fell for Scrag's neck
of course when
people haven't got anything better to do
than fall for people it's a lot of
experience. maybe it's not that
he's more like Scrag than i am; his neck just is
better. maybe he had that kind of neck That is
naturally why i chose him, because he had such a
neck for it... Look he's going

conjures up an
Important Gesture
no one to write on
that's why i feel i must do it

outside
the old man stayed at the fence and
said: "My dear
owner of the bed of roses"
and the owner answered: "dear vacation"

let me hear you more
clever than it might be a trick and you
are not In. only to
bring Scrag off of that path

i propose, to try ourselves
lower deck thoroughly grounded
found
a few minutes not thinking
the purpose
"well" he swallowed only half of it
"are We actually here?"

aflutter
in that corner over there
" we came to find a murderer"
austere
He put over his ears
his face of Leadership
try to look at him

red being Stares
He is coming

their own eyes unbelievable
Scrag on his own legs...
in his own hands
anyone would have lowered their courage into the ground
had
all the divergent facts fit into it

"someone else dressed up like
that too, to hunt. i bet, that she is
just like me: the
Mystery she has read
imagine if, we
both had foreseen it. of course we'd melt

one more chance. Red One go check if he's still there
red being Warily
yes
"he's looking at his bed of roses again, watch"
and a lot of staring; the owner
stood, leaned,
looked at his roses: a pity. they still looked as
bad. maybe he gave them too much, not sure
what to do about that
"look mysterious!" just like the man
in the Mystery: he cannot keep his eyes
off of the place, where he buried her
there is a kind of Attraction he feels. "look
a little sad!" that is
his dark conscience
really stings how bad
they are...

it is that moment the owner ran away

too much before sunshine
"are you going to see him now?"
picking up his fallen beard
just sticking your
nose in again
the decency a complete globe

now you can see
how it must have been daily to
leave go leave behind the room, as if
no one ever hovered in there. He is one of the clever ones
the beginning ending now

we have to find a way to
to come, while he, you, You
writes down everything he says when he sees. i bet
he'll let everything go, out of fear, just like
that man in the mystery
"how shall we go inside?" completely Red
the small fence
followed

happily; undisturbed Did anyone notice
the strange apparition
could be a reason

"i bet i
can go in. I believe it is not locked yet."
it is not locked yet
hike, bare and wig
downstairs watching he managed
it to Open

Then he went,
tied again around his neck
brushed off again he went
downstairs careful
into small being and returned properties
again
the right spot euphoric and excited
looking forward to the next adventure
"Now we almost have found him." there is not much he possesses

"oh, stop talking" said Red "i can't
understand how you catch anything, if you
talk eternally late evening to early
morning"
i will stop. i talk now because i need it. how can i think
without talking
famous
name
i would like to know

in this challenge red was Readiness; memory streamed
over giant volumes of Lately
looked for a famous
occasion
to go on "and i don't think you can explain
an entire ****** on the back of an envelope"
you need something bigger
not that it matters, if you had a
sea of paper, your pen would only make a few stains
on it

solution: self-conscious
gesture

still

that is much better
something about it, if the others don't
need as much. one should suffice. in fact it is not
needed

the remainders only listen. then
we shall persevere now

writing: the big subjects
the remainders
scales of wood marble nutshell candy strings
remainders of paint i look for. no result

sticking, impossible to write anything
strike, speaking: "i'll learn it by heart"
talk to me

"you must learn it by heart, when he speaks" red being
Insecurity and Crinkled
an envelope; looked at it
the way a general would "if i look
at you" i think the general in you
ends the moment you
start telling about the ******

"i don't think so" Red being grave
"he is full of ink. at least
at least he was when i started with him"

he doesn't seem to know the purpose of
his Ink, that's it, that's wrong about your pen
more severe: he seems to not know about
writing at all. he seems to think ink is
only meant to make a few stains. ending

"it's a nice pen" red in disbelief
"a great pen"
Yes, it is a nice pen to make a few stains with

myself completely in doubt

getting a shock, his eyes (possibly) on me "if he'd see
his victim came to life again"
it went the same way in the Mystery
humble
again braiding over his ears "i would't have
come up with it myself. it is very cleverly invented". All these stories
clever writers. i will write these kind of stories
when i don't have anything to catch anymore

yes in Red "but what will we do now?"
we almost Are

both of the gardens empty
farther afield
greenhouse
walk over to the other side
it would not be
the Good. it might be better to
wait until he works in the garden:
Scrag probably
one with the door

Tell me! do you even have

no clue cheerless
"i had one when i started but it
broke"

aware; he thought he looked exactly like the Inhabitant

you don't like me, the people
stung. if they see me, they'll only
think that Scrag returned. now
that I think about it, i believe it would be nice

just so they would think i am real
this Plan
what happened
too far
like this
mustered a deep hate
regularly, illegitimate

better a pity
because his proud nature did not allow him to slip
"i'm not sure whether those pants still fit
me" Do you remember, the last time
after us
so now we must be a little more careful

those two houses

aside. their doubts about the
authenticity grew by the minute
dissimilar, irrefutable meant
to frame a larger face
oblique. Moreover
much too young

old shed
beard bare
head old pants
overcoat tie and dark
glasses he must attach them with a rope
to his neck
strict
precise
red being Solidarity

you try to look like Him but your face is too much
yours, your hair hovering above your pants
looking a little strange
it is a good kind of
resentment
a whole kind of
new. anyway others will not see my neck because of
myself: that i thought about that

"i think you might be special
if you meet him in the gloom of the night and he can't
even see you well"
"well" red being Impatience "let us look when he
gets

both sides
his own way through the fields
curiously enough
Himself"

you can find anyone and
emigrate
an essay and put
your hands deep in your pockets; do you remember in the
Mystery he dressed up
as the killed one, went to the killer what I mean
is if you can hide yourself
Mask; write everything down You
will be well

"but who could dress up like Scrag?"

i have a home and a  
head actually i lost them
wish i had them to make mental notes of everything
full of doubt, even
difficult
to see anyone else
became used to

"very well" red Plans "we should go to tomorrow
right now
if he saw me he'd bring out his syringe!" like Lightning

they got together again

tomorrow i should go
inside
dive in the ditch
"there it is"
the absolute evidence all the way from Scrag's
fortress

and he could
not keep his eyes from the bed of roses, did
you see that? just like the man in the Mystery
Scrag must have been buried
in there like a policeman

like it says in the
books: firm "They will never go to the
books" they will first discover and then send away

"haven't we already discovered everything that is red?"
"we haven't found enough"
honest, it is not enough
and will still somehow escape. We're going to have
to talk
so much

"how then shall we get what we already have?"

we have to Be
no pistols
"then what shall we do?" red being increasingly anxious