this stage became yours
and the reality has fallen apart
by the industrial silence
I am but a reflection of your shadow
gaslighted by your key-light
deprived of my enlightenment
there is no yesterday
and tomorrow has never existed
while the stone has its permanent role of aching
my part is the interim of now

He is waiting for someone else
to put the words into his mouth
instead, he would say out loud his own.
And as pretending the singing,
he merges into unpossessed voices
hiding his song in the noise.
I cannot make out his words, though:
I misread his lips - mistaking a pop song for a pray;
a lip-synced psalm,
and believe every word he shares.

And I wore
my mask
for so long
that it quite
burnt onto
my face.

I don't need to know my numbers,
because I am aware of my worth.
But to you, it either doesn't count.

We live in an era
when you confess to someone
that he is the one,
he will just stare blankly at you
and say: Oh, I see.
Well, there are many Ones.

Blind date with a blind map,
oh Lord, where are my fingers running?
Are they again seeking out your heart?
For your body remains invisible
on uncharted lands
as your absence taking shape.
Godspeed with the Hand of Fate,
while mapping on the surface of this paper
for guiding me safe waters,
watching out the tides
while leaving nowhere
I reach you ashore,
"Geborgenheit" is the word;
safe & sound.

I know that is easier for you
to read my astrology
and zodiac forecast every week
just to figure out
how's it going with me
than picking up the phone
and calling me.