She's still running, she's still going strong,
I'll always know what I did wrong
but I'll never get another shot.
That's just not the ending for my plot.

Are we different, are we playing,
are we seriously saying
we are meant to be
apart.

My breath visibly escaped my nose
my next question promptly arose.
Am I just like one of those,
Am I one without the need to close
the closest of agreements.

Another one has left,
the elusive deed of theft,
Inconsistently planned,
a workplace left unmanned.

All ******* in ropes and knots,
strapped to gifts and lots
of feelings, peeling further beyond
tolerable pain to be this eagerly fond
of what our images are giving us.

You parked your bus,
put up your shields,
I have no idea what your intention yields
yet I miss you
and security.

I wish things were certain or at least the next step,
You know yours but I'm unclear about my rep.

Vaguely I remember how and when
she got infected. She was sleeping,
disconnected from the world, heaping
inconsistencies onto a pile and then
breathing softly, laid to rest beside me.
Her chest was acting like the tides, see
how easily she fell into security.

In trust we slept,
though I could not help but stare.
Her nose kept
me infatuated, as if she didn't even care.

She's like a sheep in wolves clothing.
A lobster in lukewarm water,
the footprint of her father.

I wouldn't mind losing space and sleep in bed
if it would mean she meant the words she never said.

His cough encouraged him to stay inside
persuaded him to spend the night
in soft and safer beds.
Where his scarf is less of use
and two pillows mean abuse.
Where cotton without candy
feels like a contraction of sugar mixed with brandy
and he thinks more like the man he
wished he wasn't too afraid to be
less cowardly
he dozed
he snoozed
and snored
and freed his mind of every thing, so utterly vague
five plagues of insight would not have sufficed
to make him see the light inside.

I've gotten worse at drawing.
Just the side-carried feeling
of knowing, gnawing
my insides, stealing
my focus on the better of it all,
numbs me enough to make me stay
down after the fall.

I drew her face in a clean and realistic way.
My pencil made her pure in shades of grey.
My eraser helped her see the light of day.

Still the rest of her is hidden.
I'd wish my existence was ridden
of this flawing
hypothesis.

Ik heb mezelf met pijn moed
Ingeschreeuwd, in 't oor, gefluisterd.
Alsook wanneer de zon de maan verduistert.
Zo ken ik mijn bereik maar al te goed.

Beperkingen in grond en hitte,
Waar een steen zo gloeit
Dat men met moeite zitten
Kan en het gewas maar amper groeit

Ik heb een glas ingeschonken
Paars, rood, wit en sterke geur
Uit diens droogte word ik waterig

Over doorzichtige vormen zie ik haar lonken.
Op haar gezicht de tweede kleur.
Ik herinner me die avond. Al is het katerig.