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

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

spread out your mouth
spit the streets
the tongue a tracking device
carry me now bed-like
four legged somewhere in a
corner and your entire
body weight planted over me
and do not heat spinach in the microwave
the iron will grow eyes
my back has grown at least three
eyes and my thighs are a compliment
i slit myself no mercy
novelty for free
paper of five and half a kilometer
i sleep near sudoku
while you learn foreign affairs by heart
and i am not choosing a theme and i
am still a thief stole your inner knee
am somewhere ******* myself
paint my face
paint my face
paint my face an axe at my ears
my blood a poem
hello who is this i cannot hear you
i cannot comprehend you too well
i fold dead corners like Frankenstein
it is October and five and twenty degrees and
the summer love still not over
and i wind down the wind it will be alright
turn away lurid child the things around here
they just are and
no one that pays attention to them

but i love that drowning
i step out of the shower and feel as if
i could never be absolutely clean
complete skin removal might do me justice
i would have to become a shade of myself
as would be the ashes of a fire
swatched on my upper arm that i will
always burn some way or other
that i am marked but my whole life is
grey and i choose high and low so often
that i feel like i am venturing on a median wave
never knowing what my destiny is

soon i will be nineteen and
we will celebrate my slow decay and everyone
will laugh at me but to me it is all very real
that it is a criminal offence the amount
of times i say goodbye and hello again
that my hair loops but never when i want it to
always when i want it to be downwards
that i sell conversations and flats on sundays
and my nails on every other day
i try to scratch every vulture i meet
breadth of two meters it is stretched from pillow on my bed to beak in my appendix
breath of ten seconds and then i shed my skin
completely take possession of the vulture’s body
it is me who is flying

vision serpent
i might be liquid now and frozen tomorrow or
that might never happen global warming
curdles in my stomach i tried to throw up
but my body does not trust me like it used to
i am glue now somewhere
in between Sisyphus’ rock and Narcissus’ puddle
neither solid and sweeping
nor soft standing still
i look into a crystal ball and see myself
i drink loose tea and the leaves are like my limbs always sinking
i read my tarot and keep a careful eye on the stars and avoid dark nights and being alone and it is always me like a little lucifer carrying inferno online like an application
******* obligation
only some god shoots the food right
in front of his eyes

do not forget me
as i trickle into your skin
funnel babe
trying to slightly breathe again darkwards we move

(undercover king
under covers will be paradise and
inferno
a wasteland of blankets and spit)

cut off my fingertips and i'll remain Other
and i'll somehow Stain you

and i hold on to the tension
spread it out butter on bread
strange breed that is all there is to say about it

the amount of people who
walk on bare feet i
cannot believe the
fragility in the streets

me: with nausea and extra cover
you: starting and pinning and purring and running
we: twosome group of always more cannibalism

animals and cages we
change constantly

a maybe-core

how have there been nights creating space
a vault of valued silver neck---lace play button play to me
toy tutorial: how to choke me and it is hours after midnight
i am alone in my room uncloaked my pictures upon tiny tiny windows i like to lick the blood out of the slits
grow slimes after midnight like a snail click click the right things and sadden

can i sink my fangs and hydrated as it is
a wet house all of the wallpaper ruined of bottles and of men
i hate that feeling when i put my head down and that is the last thing there is nothing nothing no struggle no bodies and legs
all anger aside i must admit
me all nails and fury me all small fit below the waist die gaily then

has anyone read anything on free will or has anyone stayed or left or has anyone survived can i lend out my own copy of free will two pages high look up the line across my back have you tried to follow me before foresting in motion
**** me in my feelings i have been begging the new moon for a new moon but IT HAS NEVER APPEARED BEFORE ME

IS THERE ANYONE I CAN HIGHLIGHT IN PURPLE AND OR IS THERE ANYONE I CAN PUT MY BACK AGAINST WHO IS WILLING TO LAY A FINGER ON ME

AND I FEEL BETRAYED should i always be banned
me me in shadows i am aware i have gotten dark i have not given permission for deep-rope-denied-roulette-gratuit-whir-phantasma

EVERYONE ON THIS SLUMP STAGE IS HIDING THEIR FINGERS IN MY MOUTH ONE TO ONE TO ONE I CAN NEVER SEE THE FACE THE FACE HURTS TOO MUCH IT IS THE RED FILTER THE EXPENSIVE ONE AND I CANNOT USE TOO MUCH OF IT IT FALLS BEFORE ME I BREAK MY KNEE-CAPS THANK YOU THANK YOU IT WAS WONDERFUL

my name is ssssss-sweetness all of a sudden
i stand before you and i am so mad i want to break your face-jaw neck-jaw your everything-jaw my name is pinky pinky and mutilation is satiric and narcissistic GO BECOME SICK OF IT AND I WILL SICK AND **** YOU AND THE HINT IS IT WILL CHANGE NOW THE SMELL IS AWAITED and the blood will be beautiful

and will be replenishing i give me another three months do you like my invention please jealous you until you open again
the demon does not possess me and does not wish to thus i received
in a letter from hell thank you thank you it was miserably ethereal

longing for pink

My mind is a bathtub
Quickly fill up
Momentarily do not look
then clean up the Chaos
she has spilled herself Again
a pity that her surroundings
were Completely unadjusted and
She does not think anymore before doing
she Surrenders

your thought

Now the sea is deepening
so Are my thoughts
i was hoping for a quick recovery but
have to accept
i cannot cope with this

some wound

Please let the neighbourhood know
Again what kind of child
lives among Shells and skeletons
near an imaginary Beach
where another sea waves to itself
and calls For her mother

excusez-moi and we will talk soon
you need not slice through the jelly ***** of
reality in search of understanding
you need not destroy since everything is
see-through slice your own eyelids start there

you need not break the clouds there
are too many things above the clouds
even when you cannot see them
pulling you towards one direction or another

do you understand that our bodies
are made up of water
bodies of water under directorial reign of the moon

is it really that difficult then to understand the rope you are
holding at full moon? the red paint?
the bare bodies at full rotation
passionately trying to match the speed of the moon
at complete curve
arching backs to receive some more warmth and
the summer is only now coming to an end

can you feel the sharpness of our
breaths that the earth is a ****** globe every
crack inviting to twirl every
cliff asking to get fingered when
storms collide do you not feel heartbroken something
has collapsed within the brain do
you understand you must decide on these things

and the belly stretches out for miles
for you a living bed, organism, blanket
come, sleep in me
come, lay your head down in me

save the anonymous

everything pink forever please
put your hat on it will make no
difference in me that is now
unsigned of long fingernails and
curly shawl driving through the axis
of your eyes in a sixties suburbia

in me that is now uncoloured curly
smile i twist my thoughts in
paraphernalia that they might fit a
life fathomable by authority i sit
knee deep between surfacing
sheets i want erasure posture
means darkness my spleen
disagrees each morning
body-thoughts and you-suit

i sat on the edge of a rectangular
ear my feet the teeth to bite white
nights to whisper how self-lies and
love hands me nothing but life and
a weak notion that nothing of more
than a bleak scarcity is coming
written on my skinny toes

how do i walk laterally
you raise your head and tail
coincidentally like a skunk is always
perhaps faded like you are always
howling for yourself pitiable
madman how the world is a tragedy
unlike thee how do i stop thinking i
am going to die

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 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

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

i hope i will bang my head
on that ******* stone at least
four more times

i hope i will hit my head very hard and will have to endure a lot
and be in pain and bleed from at least four different hotels
i meant to write homes but it corrected itself
because i have turned my homes into hotels
making memories to never tell
but whisper them please

you are not waiting for me and this life is ungrateful
but let me hit my head again
on blue barks and tree branches
of oiled backs well wetted and
move backwards get easy

untangle myself
cross my legs and put another slab
of tongue on my chin
eat me
laminate my body and freeze my soul
there is only one way of having me

even you are aware
i step out of my bed
as if i do not have anything to fall for anymore
as if i am descending
stairs of bubble rooms, clay masques, sundown, saliva, ultra violence

lies there
procrastinates outside
and (as in a dream) no one that was affected by anything other than
the wind

Goodbye!
wrapping around it
that it should be by now
naturally another joke
yesterday's failed. Let's look
one more time

crawl

off to the garden
and peaking through the window to
see the Little
Pieces

resignation "It's working"
we can be the entire day

patience is stranger and cautions goodbyes and none of it
in me we must conservative what is left and make
the best only the best
i believe in you non-fictionally like a
radar you are here you are somewhere
i am a girl with very fast heartbeats and when i
crawl from under i am energised i have tried all the
nothings and they all worked

we are in on all the trouble and we walk forward never swaying
always swaying i cannot digest meals because
there is too much sand on my sill and too
much stress in my pockets and too many coats i
hang in here with my legs close together and they touch nothing i
hang in here with my legs close together and smell lavender and
hope i end up like my parents

i will just do my evening walk
it has become kind of a routine
every time something releases itself
from my city-clogged skin
it wants to be free
and is soluble i can see
it drifting in the air
i wonder what i am losing

THERE STILL IS NOTHING GUILTY
TO BE SAID ABOUT YOU
BITE ME HARDER THEN
THERE ARE TWO MOONS TUMBLING
I AM ALWAYS TOO MUCH
I RETURN TO THE FROZEN LAKE
BEFORE WHICH I LEARNT TO BE LIKE A PAINTING
AND EVERYTHING IS QUIET
HERE IT IS AGAIN
THE NIGHT IS OVERWHELMING
LET US TEAR IT APART IN UNISON
OTHERWISE WE WILL DROWN

i just saw a feather fall from out of nowhere but i
cannot be deceived anymore
i take in everything through salt circles
i always let my sentiments float
open the box at the wrong end i want to
grab a hold of them and
smash them against the wall i do not like
Pandora anymore

my limbs blank limbs blank
i cannot feel how i am leaning over
dotted lines i am consumerism
scared eagerly not falling but simply icing another
dimension having dinner regularly
doing everything completely right
helpfully fully conscious rambling of the wall
black flies fingernail tinted dumb
at the height of a crap-seated liquorice fashion

and Thom Yorke politely knocks on my ribcage
Are You Okay: No
then he sings I will eat you alive I will eat you alive I will eat you alive I will eat you alive
when you sigh again i can see your breath like an ice cloud it's
because you are cold from the inside it's
because some radiator is stuck in there obviously
even when i see you walking
your limbs are somehow frozen

thank you for the soap on my plates
thank you for the soap on my plates
i am retracing my origins
no one
please follow me

i imagine a soft picture
and lay down on that sweet pillow
this could be a woman and this could be a man
or this could be a woman and a woman
or this could be a man and man
or they could be nothing
keep walking further from home
with the city resounding in their ears

they might be nearly untouching
not knowing what lies ahead of their feet
in the winter eve and at the halt of nature

or they might be one person
that does not know how completeness manifests itself
instead looks for muchness

thank you for the stumbling in my living room
thank you for the stumbling in my living room
next time i will travel a lot further
cold water the feelings warm on my wrist

it was partly due to a period of rainy
weather and partly due to a sudden longing for
the older one
of those two
gripped by that sudden longing
the houses
were stuffed
no period of rain
could have been read

on the first beautiful day
together and comfortable
done
convinced, happy if he knew
all that i read truly
that i still have to read more
all those wet days he would really be happy
if he knew

the mystery of a blue
voice raised
i feel the same, rational
altogether too blustering
fór you because
i was wearing it

slowly
bending over again
the owner had just processed
all of that bending (one hinge was already
broken) after that came less words
he filled his syringe with water
pointed this
upwards hurried

in that way you can drown everyone
in their mouths, so that they cannot
breathe and if you cannot breathe you die
no one can live without
though sometimes
they deserve to live without

that
Red is sad and stupid
and probably someone is thinking, obviously thinking
about an ordinary guy that came by
and gave a clue, the way it happens in all these books

do you remember the Mystery
that a man discovered that
he was a dagger and
that he killed the people around him. I think he was well educated
i would have never come up with the idea
of course, now i would: right now
the first thing i look at is the tip of a man's umbrella

then i know all kinds of clever ways

i tried to wash my hands
under this infected tap she is
completely empty
i dream often about pool, grandmother,
extending my hands into nothingness

i will scatter the ashes of a spoiled
we over the city that is already full of
senseless lungs, poured glasses and running
eyes i see your set of eyes you possess
a to me bloodshot wisdom i am floor-bound i will whirl in
an ongoing we

i make an incision around my hairline a
perfect cyclus an aureole
take off my skull softly a hat where i
evaporate see an upward heaviness lying here
long lines a violation
i see black regret like poison me as a think-rider jump over another fence become as a talk-shaman to dissect myself
fits me better than to say i am cutting myself it is more like a construction of soft fingertips that slide and slip into holes and
explore embrace self-respecting arms

there are piles of material in this house
my intuition a healing functionality i follow a
method my skull a hat a backpack a shield with which i depart

believe myself to be complete
a true vision
my cracked one, my beautiful one
never finger-pointing
i am castle-like, architectural
i do not become i am i am i am

"Don't you think so?" he refused to
let go of his griefs

now i understand the multiplicity of people
from now on i am all so present
for distraction
fighting another
"That is the real one" Red Screams
Red Bursts and all the others
excited politeness. This must be the real one. They
all somehow recognised him

"we must condemn Red
we borrowed and re-
turned. We cannot leave him in the forest

"Come"
on his handkerchief
accompanied by
turns on a road to

Defence no longer
people-less. both looked
angry. both pointed their little finger frust-
rated

to their accomplishments with attention
The one man, found
the other guilty. The other
had a hand and blamed
his Visitor.

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

"oh, that's nice" that works better for
you because if you were the first to know
you probably don't know much anymore and now that i am after you
i can probably remember it more clearly than
you
"oh, probably not. who was it then that murdered who?"

a poisoned pen
i remember a myriad of things
even more
the Mystery
"me too"
the mystery of the Lonely
"me too" and the Mystery
"me too" and the Mystery
me too

all those books and does
anyone ever die of a natural cause
they don't there is that mysterious
tone and at least one hundred
thousand murders you see
you can only discover
or rather cut open you simply do not have
the time then everyone might die
in cutting open you discover
a myriad of things

victims, have you ever
thought about that. Everywhere there are people

all my days are laid out in front of me in lines of flight
all my days are lightly dispersed in front of me
i have my time laid out in tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
and where is my time today

i have my time in the ten hours of light in december
i have my time in the sunset of four in the afternoon

there is time in the pages i read printed made physical so i can underline
the time hidden


an organisation of all manifestations of selves
monotonous block of differentiation
all just supply and all relation
princess, subject, mother, daughter, are things forgot
for every woman alone thinks she has got
to be a phoenix, and that then can be
none of that kind, of which she is, but she

what is awake are the children on the streets striking
lightning and smoke
everything exists but consumed by smoke and confusion and
drooping eyes looking futuring

there is no health; physicians say that we
at best enjoy but a neutrality
and can there be worse sickness than to know
that we are never well, nor can be so?
we are born ruinous: poor mothers cry
that children come not right, nor orderly
except they headlong come and fall upon
an ominous precipitation

a simple explanation: i am his friend
i can feel it

helpless

not my fault should he be the wrong one. up to
the Owner to find the right one
I have had enough of today
once again

the branches on the ground and
the ruins of the excited One
tried to fix him
"It will never work," Red said in Melancholy
lost it

a
little bit of understanding: Run With The Dogs!
cavalier. "competitively being
Ridiculous

this attack
his defence
Would you?

too much understanding. That is it.
too much intelligence. That is it.
Intelligence; all dogs are stupid. They Have
to be stupid go after the Mechanical
instead of the real

he: another employment

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

We had eaten to the bone what was the good meat
and were wondering what to do with the leftovers
we had left
the bad pieces; bottles of bad

We
did not want to take the forest
home, no one wants to
"we were happy to be
left sticking to ourselves"
we saw

a mouth of regret
and a willing eye
"Oh!" was all he said
Oh how agreeable you are
going
"I do not know" in the most agreeable
way
we go
we do
than do

while the excitement in his voice
was trying to find
what it already possessed. Now we
have it it lies
in love does it not repeat itself?

Otherness
Ratherness over Otherness
we do really believe in
the thought of it

Isn't that wherein you live?

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 struggle with red we always have
we tap roses
i am dizzy been drinking coffee
their thorns looking down on us always dominant

my little thorns are so razor
that you can cradle me in both hands splash it
and **** the blood right out of my pinky pinky
and stay cornered

i will recede
until me that you can fit in both hands
or bend until futuristic dreams and i am doing my best to stay rooted
but i like the pain in my toes
cut off the daily worn

i cannot make sense ever
because i see the last of the summer smoke not the windows
i never see through only between
that makes me feel good
because i kiss the sun's reflection without daring to look up

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

"You stole him. Of course you have him
otherwise in your garden
never stolen, how I go

I have I say
my own
chain. What I would like to know is
how come

"Filthy dog, yes yes! and you loved to
steal

"I think you never owned a dog."

I will leave you
my dog

a rancid filthy one
"Liar!
Thief!
a thief!
and a liar!"

they turned
helplessly, startled
collar
the Owner screamed

the peaks of my purple life:
i am reading all of my friends
I SCREEN
i need to fall head forwards and
we are never alone anymore

ADDRESS ME
i am half covered like a geiser
fuming but we'll be able to make out

some form or shape
i am very half covered
a careful mix of red and blue

my thighs available
i return my forgivings at night
nothing counts at night the laws
of life tongue my feet and i
do not trust my second language
for a second

i cannot be undrawn to you
very well understand that i am not
enough malleable to qualify as
co-operative

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

na na no
i am NOT walking through emotions
i am simply STROLLING
LIGHTLY treading this path
feet muddy little bit ******

there is this mountain
HUGE pile of these strange feelings
how am i
how am i miles away all suddenly all now?

i am combustible
i am HIGHLY flammable
do not light me
do NOT light me
i will make you SICK

i have shown you where i am torn
do you believe me are you opened yet because i want
to look at you even when you are not here
are you opened yet because i realm to you
have fallen in you it sounds like an ode but it is not

inside is cold when you live together
nothing misses the house seems overflowing inside
is cold the temperature does not know
where to go what
is right now

i take this seriously like a sugar cane it is
always about the same stuff we take this seriously like sugar canes
spoons over our eyes you taste sweet and we put fat lines and
dots on the walls of the house the lines on my arms are
filled with sugar paste

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

thrill against him He was a
dog with a wide heart.
The enchantment
as good as
gone

surrounded by fit tantrum scene even conniption
understood

when they were at the end of the road
sitting still

"there is
nothing now that I want. I am becoming ill
I do not understand why

"But why The
difficulty about you is that you suffer of an excess
of
small pieces
At least you are keeping yourself busy
your energy-a little
pale thing fearing "Me! On my
Own!"

but still

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

and she is skinny like a deer so she can find the holes in my heart and set foot in them it is winter again
and you bend forward so much more from where i can see you
it is the slowest kind of pain
that you clean your blackest dishes with

THE WHOLE HOUSE OF THE AIR AND THE WATER IS FILTHY
I WILL TAKE THE ROOF AND SPLIT YOU THROUGH IT YOU JUST WATCH OUT YOU JUST WATCH OUT

i mean i HAVE TO GET DESTROYED SOMEHOW i will never have been happier then
me eating your teeth in bed (i will **** you in bed)
you being a mirror towards eternity (in a film that cools down)
you cool down towards the end it is winter again

Marai whispered that towards the end I will remember the beginning powerfully and clearly again
right now i am puzzling the stars pulling energetic lemons into my mouth so i can make strange faces and slap and laugh

mankind in sleeves so atypical it is winter again
it is too cold to be honest to myself
not cold enough to drag myself through that death-chamber
i am crawling towards something else
something so completely devoid of coming home and dinner i
will only have to stretch one finger-punch to touch ice

i have never heard of morals give me more autumn chill me
shiver my shins sleep in my flesh keep warm with bled blanket that only just fits we sit herded on sofas bigger than psychiatry though it holds us barely
our minds a millennium freestyle
i feel revivable, immortal, extorted
went under in a fortnight
now i feel reborn like Zephyrus
i stride westwards never slowly i am storming on
what were strong teeth and pearl mask
this venus retrograde i am unmasking you
my mouth is a telephone spit line and i will call you tomorrow

my memory is split twice and i will never forget how
we sank deeper into my mattress
lowered into the foam
two froth corpses one bite out of my each of my feet
bottled up scabs to heal something else maybe later i am saving on everything now just in case ploughed down my
plan b capitalism saxophonist co-producer nudess star

reverse of i am ways revisited
sent some string quartets to my past self some poems some antlers and me in a black-and-white dream again reliving the uncontrollable
taste the soap lips eyes inwards finger gun pointed
focussed on myself
my essence is wild picking
flowers off of your back a stroll
a toll on my muscles

i crawl
lift my left leg slightly
bend my fronton backwards

i drink more air craft
restricted
gulping
death metal

i want you to
go inside my room
outlive yourself then go
outside amid plains and forget all of the limb peaks and die then rebirth yourself in the morning climb yourself mount yourself
causal cliff
and in front of me
you are hanging by a thread

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"

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

you lick the inside of your cheek
it is warmer in there and
softer and pink secretly
without you having to admit to anyone
which wound you have picked at again

that you do not want to listen to acoustic anymore because
that too is too sweet
you understand the sign of the times
clocked in the ears until
they bleed

and letting go of hands does not hurt
it is cold this time of
year that is why you lick the inside of your
cheek
only the
stretching of the muscles

it is normal to
cool off your head
in the freezing northern breeze
a brisk walk or it is normal
to warm up your red ears
on the stove

like a flavourful dish
and never talk in any case
during family diner
fists hooked behind the back
about what is banging inside

it took me over a month to
crack the puzzle
now i am rolling backwards i am
stone dead flung over you

things are just as they always were

i try to crack my teeth on frozen fruit
strawberries cranberries raspberry the red juices flowing
into my neck cold and numb i want to be
bitten
i used to put my head into the freezer
power food
i cannot keep myself from flowing

I HELD MY BREATH UNTIL I WAS IN
AN EXCRUTIATING PAIN AND I
REALIZED I COULD NEVER
SUFFOCATE MYSELF
THE WAY I SUFFOCATE OTHERS

then i went to our place
screamed my lungs out
then i went home
and that was death

i think the first step will be to realise
that i will never understand myself among others

then i went to our place
smashed all the plates i could find
then i woke up
i was in my own kitchen

I WILL BE LEFT WITH SINGLE WORDS ONLY:

funky
mistress
petulant
asylum

in exactly two days i will have an aneurysm
for now i have taken flight in
between the wall and my wooden bedframe
if i squeeze myself a little
deeper it almost feels like an embrace
i am in too terribly deep
a full moon
everything has come full moon
it is the addiction talking
about this great concern for me
how i kind of still fit in another life
if someone would build a wall between my house and their
backyard then buried
me in the cellar at the neighbours
how i kind of still fit in another life
this great concern for me
if i am coping
if i am over it because it is
over and that needs to be repeated for educational purposes
IT IS OVER
for educational purposes scientific studies perhaps
stop massaging my brain it feels
relaxing but afterwards i cannot tell where i stand
what i want if left is a
nice colour and if i should go
outside tomorrow buy razors or
bottled water or branches stained with blood if i should use real or
fake blood if i should take pictures
am i a colony or a crown
dependency i wish i was queen
WHEN I LOOK DOWN I CANNOT
SEE MY OWN FACE
i carry gemstones in my pockets always
to compensate

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

you are my
poison my
little poison
i gave myself
an amputated
lover
for christmas
unleash me
into a hell where
i am all alone and
cold all my limbs
cracked and crumbling
a withered little
animal
unable to speak or stand
up or even open my
eyes murmuring
that the black at the
back of
my eyelids is just
as unrecognisable as
everything beyond

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 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)