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