i tried to wash my hands
under this infected tap she is
completely empty
i dream often about pool, grandmother,
extending my hands into nothingness

i will scatter the ashes of a spoiled
we over the city that is already full of
senseless lungs, poured glasses and running
eyes i see your set of eyes you possess
a to me bloodshot wisdom i am floor-bound i will whirl in
an ongoing we

i make an incision around my hairline a
perfect cyclus an aureole
take off my skull softly a hat where i
evaporate see an upward heaviness lying here
long lines a violation
i see black regret like poison me as a think-rider jump over another fence become as a talk-shaman to dissect myself
fits me better than to say i am cutting myself it is more like a construction of soft fingertips that slide and slip into holes and
explore embrace self-respecting arms

there are piles of material in this house
my intuition a healing functionality i follow a
method my skull a hat a backpack a shield with which i depart

believe myself to be complete
a true vision
my cracked one, my beautiful one
never finger-pointing
i am castle-like, architectural
i do not become i am i am i am