he just blurted out some things of course that
Scrag is alive and must be in a room somewhere. no one cherishes
being on vacation eternally, They
just stay for a while
so that they cannot be
caught

"he looked different"
doubter "new suit or new
curtains maybe"

some time ago
do you remember
well, being red just like in the Mystery
i bet you, right now he can't find Scrag
within. he buried Scrag in his garden and now he strolls about

in the middle of the road
to go back and be able to see what (s)he is doing
new adventures

very carefully two young people
by accident
the owner outside her door of Plants
eating, as promised

unfamiliar through the same Fence
just a moment in Their garden
with His bed of roses in her mind
that wasn't great. that was very sad.

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

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

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"

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

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"

"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

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

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"

And there is no one to discover them.
if i simply existed i would
fit nowhere, in all the books I
have read
they just don't know what to do
tell me, do you remember the Mystery
of rummaging through the room
and not even finding
the person
that opened it

well, that just shows, look what
i actually mean is that people are too careful
with all kinds of things
but when it comes down to it: dissolving
or unmasking, a decision cannot be found. these
are regular people, like you and me that try to pick up
their common sense

some just cannot see it because they are too dumbfounded
and that is that
however interested you may be
there is nothing you can do to set yourself in motion

at that time two small
names
both were stirring in me

"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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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

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"

the old man only just moved in
his name
Scrag, and everyone making an effort
to remember new humans
the humans named themselves
after their appearance or character

the owner in trouble because the man's name
was longer than usual and looked kind of
wrinkly he had dark glasses
by the fence and his job was to
produce a Great Curiosity
for everyday things

for anyone that even remotely feels anything it would have been
clear that the owner was in trouble if interest and
activity collided in
his head; heated even then
there was more than a
look at last
he stood up after bowing down and looked, said

"nothing" being all happy
"then why?"
"to look at you"

still happy, but without
moving
"go away! do you hear me? go
away"

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"

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

at that moment skipping in
between the Trees. grabbed
and tied the collar.
full of disgust.

why all on him
what he said
impatient. They got out of the forest,
a road home
Red being a dog, in doubt

be careful be open
got inside tied again to the
chain
Red in silence

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the woods, I left the ruins
there. I bet I can
fix him

it was
only because he did not understand:
the Optimism knows no limits.

slowly, in thought, was Red "it is
the wrong dog
he is the wrong dog impatient
not the same one
he was before

was not entirely Red anymore
was not
entirely. Do you know

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

"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.

"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

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

take down"
the news
tireless
After the fiasco

that could not go wrong.
"And what is infuriating in reds is that -
thought that the others ate
everything that we built around ourselves
and above all
the Help and - and - it would
not be so dark

buffering over face
"Let's go"
take down"
those opportunities
take down" took him down in the street
near his own house - a punishment on
his face fearing pale conversations
nearing him and
expectations

a little pale thing
beside him

"To be honest", shamelessly
we were those things that disappear
we were wondering

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?

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

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

after reading all those books i believe i
i would find out pretty soon
there always is that one person and you think that
he would never be able to do it
it would be stupid to read
all those books, they would soon enough

be too big

it is much more fun to be the man
that discovers everything
that is the one i want to be. i keep on reading
until i am too big and i bet you there will be
not a single way then to unmask
people
and after i die i will be famous and the people
will put up a statue for me

"i don't think they will" red being Abetment
"you will probably be murdered
before you even discover anything"

"and then it will be us who will be famous"
is that what you really think, offended

i would leave me
alone and not worry too much about finding
out. by the way, i will not be
killed. i would always have a bottle with me
i would drink
a little bit after all

if anyone tries to shoot me i will shoot
first
"you are very clever, are you not?" red being Sarcasm
it's simple: i may
not be very clever and so on
i'm not as dumb as they say in the reports
above all i am clever about discovering

"well, name us then"
red
if you would be so kind to unmask
if you had the chance you would find a skeleton by chance
very soon, not clear who
"i have so many
ways to **** people and i
also know which kind of people do it"
"get out" that was all Red

by that time we had already reached the old shed where people
often meet and play their games

the kind of red that really did it
is guilty it is me that by chance
did it

could've been some kind of vainglory. in the end we played the game
till we had to go to bed

then there came a long period of passion
enticing stories
the books were given away and
the interest slowly
melted too, just like the owner dreamt
every day
about the two of them, they would hang over the fence
until he sent them away. after that they left

it is possible that the owner in the
past had had much to do with
age and nature. the moment they were hanging over the fence
she would wave fiercely and imminently with the
syringe. at once
these events kept the interest
alive
"i would want to buy everything
he puts his syringe in"

killer? he looks exactly like those kind of people, who
spray venom on others
do you remember the man in the
Mystery, whose rake
was poisoned? i think he is exactly someone like that
it's probably best we ran away so much. i bet you
if we hadn't
we wouldn't be alive right now

"why not?" a murderer must ****
someone, otherwise he wouldn't be a murderer
there are those who are crazy like you or anyone
crazy about collecting. there might
be a good reason for it though. he might
know that one of us
knows
nothing

because we all
drowned when our ship sank
that's how it went with the Mystery
not one of us has a
shipwreck to show
for everything i say

tired

there is not at all
pressure to tell us
wat happened
tonight i'll ask if maybe she
drowned

and probably they will say
they've forgotten about him long ago but i bet one of you
wanted to ****** him

unmentionable
don't even bother
for some time there was no reason to be suspicious
maybe it wouldn't even have come up, but then
on a certain day they found the two
completely empty

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

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

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?

i want to let my eyes fall down
till i see red veils i stand often in dim light chin up
with my legs small and kneeled
oedipal slits never eroding
a little sage across my bed solely an ode to cleansing

serpent valentine
forever blinded and biting its way through
two layers of black cotton
venomous overtime king with scepter
my neck ornamented almost a warning for casualties

a mindless centenary every second written down on paper
falling notes a rhythm difficult to follow
a corner unfolding metaphysically
toothless symbolism softly smelling of super mist

grey magic
conch shell
chest floored
binary pair of hands collapsing ten seconds at a time
pentacles carved into city-clogged skin
reconnecting to fire almost within reach of
combustion

februaric sun is an excuse
unfaithful quadruped is an excuse
Lappish light is an excuse
two arms i lie on maybe
downward dog hard hand everything under agoraphobia
and then march and then march and then march
two arms i lie on maybe

i am completely stretched out in my premisse and
abdominal is panicked in my oppositeness and then
some things bang in short moment calling walking past like
almost happened language like bangs and cyclical leaning

i believe you in dutch my head spins in angels and some times
i speak in mother tongues like six in the morning happiness

hip-snake i am mad about yourself there me cut you
fly me through italic parental dutch angles we look through shoulders
do i want to scratch your shoulders faithful quadruped

i do know either
i do know either
like an unruly suppressed strolling goosing noise missing like MIST
you read me

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