When going out he would wear handcuffs
in case he committed a crime. A mistake,
or rather, a misunderstanding. In rusty
vintage handcuffs, in an age of Unschuld,
his hunger for the white statue lies bleeding.

The dingy leather jacket still smells like his
old basement, and reminds him of every
whisper at those hurtful, mindless
nights - you cannot wash out the blood. It ends
with a diminutive scream.


                                                              ­                               An angry old man with a Walther pistol, going nowhere,
                                                                ­                                   going everywhere, breathes out Visage-Beatha, a box
                                                                ­                                                 full of Ashes, snores when the bullets run out.


Chin up, chest out, do what a soldier do the best,
would you?    Look ahead, turn left -
               Wait, wait, please!
    …                       Give ‘em a mask,
                                       they’ll tell you anything.

The last piece of skin fell off his back when he
heard his bones crashed. An empty sleeve too.
Open his mouth, look for a rightful darkness -
but hey, who said that ****** never hurts?

They remember, you know, remember dying,
remember being dead, and die again.

There’s no _ left in her eyes,
(you can’t tell just by
    lookin’ at them anymore),
only the star on her left shoulder
Still remains the frame.
A cold laugh.

The orange juice spilts.

Outside the purple chapel, he smiles into the local
dirt, like a cupcake, looks for a vermin of walking to beat.
To him, after all, Jesus means no more than a name either.

…
Yet his heart still pumps with Ecstasy at every April, and when
he scratches the tattoo on his chest, (which looks no
less than an idea),
he looks for the handcuffs.

And those hair never grow back.

It has nothing to do with the manipulation,
she said. I don’t mind living under a
Shadow, by a thread, or a loaded gun.
It’s the openness that angers me, you
know, they seize every secret inside
my most intimate idea, and scoff at it.
Even something covert like missing you.

Up and down
No more spinning
Like a perfect crime
Around the corner
Mud on his shirt
Staying with the
Reeds flowing back
the Prettiest thing in the world
He’s a thinker

So I ran to him the other day
He was looking up the Milky Way
He said It’s precious
But what can you see
Or hear or smell or feel it’s real

He’s a thinker on my way
He’s a thinker of our day
He’s a thinker don’t be surprised
He’s a thinker of our life
He’s a thinker

Quite small
Jump into me
A little bit dry
So let me milk you
Well I gotta admit
the ******* of it is
As simple as we used to be
I am a thinker
You don’t know me

A drunk silly little Irish cat
He’s gay and he used to be my pet
Listen, one day he told me
He’s gonna walk away
From my broken roof that he can’t stay

I’m a thinker on your way
I’m a thinker of your day
I’m a thinker don’t be surprised
I’m a thinker of your life
I’m a thinker

Straight up
Here come the dreamers
Colour their insanity
Behind your paradise
Well in this filthy world you live
No-one really gives a ****
They won’t listen until you died
Wasted in Black and White
You’re the thinker

You let them kiss your pretty face
And ***** you with their ***** says
You’re naked and you started to smile
With tears fallin’ from your eyes

You’re a thinker on my way
You’re a thinker of our day
You’re a thinker don’t be surprised
You’re a thinker of our life
You’re a thinker

It’s the middle of the day,
and I am drunk. Without a
drop of Alcohol, not a smell
of any Wine. The sense of
being sober completely give
in once I have him in mind.

I’ve found myself miss you a lot today.

I thought I heard the gunfire,
the deep crack on his smile, I
thought I saw it, when the
bullet took the temperature
away from him, I can feel,
my earth is crashing down.

You’re the best dream I’ve ever had.

Be not afraid of the Death, he
said, we’re born to be ruined.
They would curse you for the
leaving, but what can they do
– to **** you again after you died?
He grined, with tears in his eyes.

Contagious, contagious, contagious…

You walk in,
  laughing like
melting cheese.
  Blossoming the
air, red as a
  sinner’s dying
will. I would want
  to kiss the naughtiness
on your lips.
  I start gigeling,
even though it’s
  bitter inside.
You know I’ll always
  happy your happiness.
Just so we can
  smile together.

Nothing really happened in my life,
never a kiss in the rain, a starless night
by the lake, nor a farewell note under
my pillow. Even so, I got paper flowers for
getting out of the way in Valentine's Day.  

I don't know you, but you've never been a Stranger to me.

You weren't him, were you? You don't
know nothing about me, do you? You
don't even care, you don't have to.
But you break into my life anyway, and
keeping a Smile on my face ever since.

How could you know me so well without knowing me for real?

And I wish you were here with me,
Holding sweetly together, you could
kiss my tears aside. Yet there you
are, not knowing anything, eating
your breakfast with my Goodnights.

Now that poetry has found me at last,
it feels like I can die any minute without it being in vain.

A poem is a poet's way to be a rebel,
to write is to live forever when nothing else matters.

How fragile is a poet's inner soul -
the one you condemn, rip out, and abandon to the sea.

I used to think I was dead already, someone without a voice
and then you came to me like love, without me even choosing

These words that fall from my pen each day
connect me to more than who I am, more than I could ever be.

And now I wonder, when I write my final word
take my final breathe, will you truly know me for who I really was?

I**

Does reality scare you somehow?
  I know what it does to me.
Dreamless, braindead,
  mocking me like a Prophet to the past.
And I ****** up.

You said -
When you don’t see me,
you were thinking about me,
but I don’t seem to care,
when you are away.
I only think of you when I am
looking into your eyes.
And asked,
where the hell are you?

Noticed when -
A piece of sunrise from the other
side of the earth, shining upon your
mid-night window.
Light up your depressing eyes,
your pale face, broken smile.
And my dear,
if you ever found yourself
wearing a smile out from nowhere –
it would be me,
missing you from the distance,
and smiling.

I said -
What you are not seeing
is what’s happening now,
genau hier.

Way down in the Water, I
   stand still.
As you want me to,
   as Always.
Hide, and Survive.

Tired, so exhausted I
   am now.
Don’t mess it up, just no,
   would you?
Slip, keep silent.

He ain’t got no good,
  he ain’t got no right,
he ain’t got no chance,
  to pick on my Brother.
Make it easier.

Take a good, nice sip
   of you.
It will never, in a long time,
   be enough.
Slowly, be aware.

You just can’t see it,
   can you?
He just wouldn’t listen,
   would he?
You need no to ruin.

Dream it Beautifully, with
   no sense of dread.
Tend a Rabbit, get a
   Garden full with pretty
softy things and,
   you’re with me.

Have it come true, please,
   in a world like this,
with a guy like you,
   in so many ways, I
somehow speechless.

Help, live it out loud
   please help.
I want this I want this,
   life could be so cruel
Still, with you I am
   safe, as a sleeping
Child in a cave.
   You’ve found me.

Because I got you and,
   you got me.
We got each other.

As Innocence fade away, all
   you have left, son,
is guilt, and there’s no
   turning back.
Unsavable, this time.

The very Scent of her
   takes away the
Smell of the Bunk House.

Shut it, don't ever,
   you can never lay a
sight on her.
   Take it in, for it’s
Not just another hell
   I’ve given you.

Mean to be lost, him,
   alone from the beginning.
Can’t deny so,
   you choose to destroy.
Loudly, **** him.

I think I knowed from
   the very First.
Thought I could stop, but
   it happens anyway.
Run, not again.

Love me, if you’re still
   capable to do it.
As all these time, you
   know what is the
Best for me,
   don’t you?

What’s now, I’ll listen,
   I really will, and
have them Remember
   like I never have.
Leave, let’s not.

As you want to,
   As you want me to,
As you want me to want us to,
   Choose, to see
the Truth in you.

You hear it, can
   you see? Just, close
Your eyes and imagine.
   Bang.

Smoking a cigarette, she slowly opens her eyes. I wish not to see, if here's what it must be presented to me. The bathroom is steamy and warm, but the water is running cold in the hot tub. She doesn't remember how long she has been here, she doesn't remember what had happened before, she doesn't remember to remember. As she murmurs to herself -
  I hate God.

  The wonder of life could be faded so easily, the
scent of her skin, the touch of her smile, the loss of
  one family's forever beloved, our family.

  A daughter, a sister, a piece of out heart.

  It's what you live on, you know, mother can't stop
crying, the agony, the emptiness, father hardly speaks,
  life goes on, I still feel her, after she's gone.

  A tragedy, a mistake, a hole in our soul.

  No, it has nothing to do with bad luck, it's just death,
you know. She stops breathing, her body gives in, and she
  watches herself leaving the room, the world -

  as she's sailing to the other side of her eternity.

  It all began with a piece of bread, she never lates for
school, a beautiful morning, and the radio was playing,
  we never heard her, she loves music.

  **** this, now what about the livings?

  Now, what about the livings? We moved, not necessary
delightfully, from the home of our heart. It would be easier
  for mom and dad anyway, I've never meant to leave.

  "Don't be afraid, be free, you're now our only."

  I was sent away, along with a part of my sister, who was
supposed to be a part of me too, and started a new life.
  That's how they call it anyway, it's really cold -

  in this side of the country, this side of my life.

  It doesn't bother me a bit, I wouldn't let it, I have my way
to remember my sister. I've talked her back to life, she's just as real
  as she used to be, in school, at home, anywhere.

  In life, in death, in the coldness and the stillness.

Look, it's snowing! Yet my heart has never been so warm, maybe, I
  pray, we can seek back our happiness after all. Maybe it has never
left, just like Martha, as I am watching my parents skating through
  the ice, and remembering -

  *She's gone, but not forgotten, she's only one breath away.

It takes a pencil to write a poem,
  a piece of white paper, a leaking
mind, a cup of tea, to hold.
  And a poem is what makes a poet.

You wish not to take my heart
  when you die –
Lying on a hospital bed, you pray
  while holding my hand.
You wouldn’t take my heart, you
  can’t, I’ve lost it long before I
knew I am going to lose you.
   I didn’t say anything.

Death is hard, saying Goodbye is
  harder, but Letting go,
it is the hardest.
  I don’t see how I can.

They said there’s nothing left
  for me to do but pray.
Except I don’t believe in God,
  yet I hope you enter Heaven.
You told me it’s a place of lonely
  peace, and you will love
me again upon my shoulders.
  I didn’t feel anything.

You’re not an angel, but you’re
  the Closest thing to Heaven
I’ve ever touched.
  I wish I believed.

You really believe –
If you don’t love me back, I would stop caring.
  Caring for not to care anymore.
If you told me to stop loving you, I would walk away.
  And I’ll still be loving you secretly from distance.
If you disappear, I would be better off without you.
  I shall have no life to live, all broken.
If I forgot you, I would stop thinking about you.
  You’ll always be my every Sweetest nightmare.
If we never met, I would see through happiness.
  Hell, what’s the point of it then?

I.
In my hand, a
boreal owl has died -
Waiting for the spirit to
pass.

The softness of her feathers,
the beauty of this other form
of life. I look
closely.

White and perfect.


II.
Shelter. It sounds so handsome.
Comforting, (real), true -
and yet it is a little wall between a
person and all the rest.
So little there.

The fragility of crystal after crystal can
be my killer.

One small thing plus another equals
a power greater than any shelter humans can
build.


III.
Without electricity.
I am surrounded

by comfort. All of a piece -
myself and the world. Close to
one another.

Boundaries are gone.
Distance has changed.
The rock above are closer

than before. The trees in the
moonlight, the horses so close
I can see the ghost of

their breath.