"liege" poems
Sure, the Huns may be stronger, faster,
But I’ll tell you first, it’s not disaster.
They may be fearless, vice-less,
And the stakes this day are priceless.
That must weigh heavy on your mind,
And it might away at your spirits grind.
It makes your heart burn, your blood race,
But on this day, they will be erased.
They come, by day, by night,
To conquer us and flex their might.
Tonight, we’ll break their endless siege,
Perhaps we’ll **** their liege!
Let the sun blot with countless arrow,
They fly like the chattering sparrow.
Perhaps most will simply miss,
And you shall brave the wooden blitz.
That one, slash his head from his shoulder!
Watch it fall off like a fleshed-out boulder;
That’s it, keep riding, they’re already breaking!
Your wives will, on your return, be waiting.
Go back to hell from whence you came!
Of the besiegers, we’ve killed and maimed!
Haha, look at them run, back to their mothers;
Keep them running for a hundred summers!
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
My friend Amelia (real name, of course, redacted)
is something of a pained Ophelia.
The play's the thing, the part brilliantly acted;
She stands alone by Hamlet's side,
She sighs and moans and pouts and pines,
and waits for him to be attracted.
But Hamlet I know; He's a friend of mine,
and for her heart, he doesn't pine. He's out to solve his father's ******
Let him go, Ophelia. It's all right. He won't be dissuaded by your ardour;
your love won't keep him long distracted.
Senpai; My Liege; it all rings far more familiar than it aught.
"Notice me!"
"Notice me!"
or then again...
not.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
Upper East Side
The Hamptons
Aspen, Colorado
The plastic people
Follow each other
Moving in herds
Like cattle to the
Slaughter
Drifting
Floating
Shifting focus
From one charity event
To another
Whatever’s trendy
Whatever’s fashionable
Whatever’s happ’ning
Whatever’s the need
Tainted new artists
Society’s rejects
The film-maker who fits in with
The flavor of the month
The disease or the cause
That captures the moment
Stigmas overlooked
Deformities relieved
By one hyper exertion
By one pseudo good deed
Changing bedrooms
Changing partners
New alliances
Noblesse oblige
Mrs. Astor’s
Four hundred
Reinvented forever
Reinvented with fervor
On the edge
Of hypocrisy
Keeping up with the Jones’s
Maintaining the houses
Paris, Rome, Cote du Jura
Malibu, Palm Beach
Couture fashion
Madison, Rodeo
Worth avenues united
Avenues of the liege
Location, location, location
The right address unspoken
Dinner in the right places
Sporting events to be seen
Three martini luncheons
Halcion evenings
Business is business
Where money’s retrieved
Look to plastic people
For fashionable guidance
No matter the moment
No matter the need
Remember to catch them
While jetting to Santa Barbara
Saint Maarten, San Troupe
San Marco, warp speed
They live in their milieu
Can’t function outside it
Can’t follow a shadow
That others believe
It’s easy to find them
They leave behind footprints
But barely a mem’ry
Or singular creed
Other than finding
The latest in fashion
The latest persona
Or new plastic breed
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
My sweetest soldier left me and was dragged across the sea
My nights are now silent and my heart is drowned with fear
So, here I cannot stand to be
Through weary nights I held my guard
'till the stars came out to torment me
For, all the beauty of the night was now forever marred
My heart trembled with the candlelight
So I went to seek her chambers,but all was locked and barred
Even whispered words from my dear soldiers could do little to ease my fright
I wrote letters to my sweetest knight with sparkling, savage fury
I fought sleep away with every ounce of my might
Too soon, my hands and eyes grew weary
I filled my pages with stories of beasts we would nevermore fight
my eyes where too full of tears so I could not see clearly
I've lost my dearest companion and the bringer of my light
She sent letters back,of course, and they were wept over with many a tear
For a day, sprigs of goldenrod adorned my collar bright
for a day, at least, I forgot to think of fear
Then I had dreams of feathered serpents wrapped around her throat
her eyes were scratched out by hoary hell-kites and her heart was pierced with a spear
All my daylight hours, and all my nighttime too, to my knight I did devote
We continued writing letters and I lead my soldiers too
no one ever asked of what this did denote
'till fever caught me by my throat and threw my mind askew
My hands shook too violently and ink had streaked my page
In my letters, I tried so hard to have my pain seem subdued
My dear light-bringer needn't fear a fever's shallow rage
She saw through my ruse too quickly and I think she panicked more
I tried to calm her with winged words and locks of sage
I promised her there was a cure
My dreams were fueled by fire and the darkness lurking there
when I woke I fell sobbing to the freezing floor
She would have gathered me in her arms and kept me in her care
Beasts and berserkers set my night under siege
I could only see my sweetest knight scarred by bloodless warfare
Her spirit fell to the mercy of my new-found, thankless liege
My throat was streaked with clawing pain
cups of water I did beseech
bitter liquid assailed my body and bound my fate with chains
I saw my sweetest soldier and her hands skimmed through my hair
Her eyes shined like pearls which I hoped she would retain
Her kisses on my cheeks were so radiant and rare
I knew then never would we be apart
and in my chambers with the firelight there
I could rest with the keeper of my heart
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
The rivulet carries your dreams
as will the cherry blossom,
an eddy of hope will serenade
before a certain loss shorns your patience,
of a love lost
and to realise its only channel is a seashell
the sound before the rivulet
where once you were the liege
but the coarse fisherman's daughter
left with the whittle of a voyage
can only laugh at the serenity of your suggestion
the assumption behind your dream
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
(work in progress)
(Our souls are under construction) or
(Our souls are under siege)
There is no bravery
There is no liege
There is a plan
There is a map
But a lot of it is utter crap
Some can see the vision
Some can grasp the mission
Some can only be convinced by collusion
Some only by conditions of sedition
Mind the business
Mind the people
Mind the selling
Mind the buying
But if you mind the cash flow you will know
that that's the only thing to mind when you grow
-- or --
Mind the business and the people
Mind the selling and the buying
Mind the ...
But if you mind the cash flow you will know
that that's the most important thing to mind when you grow
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 10:51 AM UTC
In a frenzy
of exultation,
I found my submissive
prostrating before your
dominance,
considering you a master
entwining under the spirals
of your manliness.
I feel that I should
sing the psalms of
your manhood
to dangle my soul
to your body and
your soul to mine
prairie of captivity
welcoming me via
an orifice of your
supremacy.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Dear, Pa –
it’s your once-son
Danny – or better known
as Sandy, or Annie or;
Ann-Marie and to some
folks on 19th Street,
I’m known as a sinner, a ******
My life is a movie, like
a catwalk model; and
I play a very special person, who’s got
no-one to lean on, no mommy to hold, and;
Wait, I know her. She’s familiar to me like,
I’ve known her since the beginning of time, but
right now, in physical form, she stands
in front of me in the;
mirror, Pa. Yes, I am her reflection, no
I mean she’s my reflection and I realize
that; all along, this whole time, I told myself
a big-fat lie; as a child, hatred and anger
were the tears I cried. So –
this one’s for you, my king,
my liege; this one’s the promise
that we’ll keep; this one’s the bond
between our sheets; but this one’s the
one that’ll point at you; before I lift
the middle one, to say, ***** You!”
But hey, Pa – here I am. A
woman, not a man. A bonafide,
sophisticated lady in minx
with, real diamond earrings and
fierce wings; those nails, my nose
and my lips – make me feel like I’ve
power at my fingertips.
Tonight is my show – it’s my time
to shine. And I’m going to **** it
like I know I can – so thank you Pa,
and thank you, ma’am. For giving
me the strength to be who I am.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 7:13 PM UTC
das helle Licht,
der nahe Sommer
die zarte Fröhlichkeit
blühender ******
das schmeichelnde Lächeln
meiner Wut
die monotone Stille,
der Sehnsucht Glut
zu dir
ich liege
ich stocke
ich stolpere
du sehnst
du redest
du willst
zu mir
das helle Sein,
meiner vollen Seele
deine nahe Stimme
deine Gedanken und Pläne
durch das verstaubte Fenster
hellgrüne, verwirrte Blätter ranken
Licht fällt gebrochen auf meine Hand
du bist so fern, ich sehe dich nicht
wie Gedanken versanken
auf Blättern auf Wiesen
in Wörtern und Träumen
was für ein schlimmes Gedicht
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 1:21 PM UTC
I don’t bow to money,
I don’t bow to fame
I kneel to that one thing,
that time cannot change
I don’t speak for right,
and won’t speak for wrong
My liege is the truth,
all court jesters gone
I don’t hope to be knighted,
my shield more concave
And rejecting all title,
the past still enslaved
My will lay unbroken,
my heart for a throne
A crown jeweled with memory
—all scepters disowned
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
Effaced, with myself removed from yesterday
I can think without unyielding pressures
******* my heels.
"It's always hardest the first time, the first day"
someone said. Maybe it's true?
I think repetition is getting to me,
so I must give liege to liberty.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
Dearest My Lord.
please to read this missive not with haste
but in serious thought.
Come Sire, and view such unholy state
to which thou hast brought me
at being with child and of hearing lately
of thy touring intent mine heart
starteth in great alarm, as I indisposed
must know for sure that thou be
not going away.
Fie upon that scheme mine Liege for
thou hast in me fathered a babe.
Thou shouldest stay, and embrace mine
own confinement to disgrace,
whereby the infant will bear no name
and wouldst thou abandon me to this fate
prithee have pity on offspring shame.
Pray marry me do, thou canst not afford
to blacken my name by
seeing the truth and fleeing abroad
and thus relinquish thy parenthood destiny.
I belong only to thee so do not ill-use me.
Thou sought thy way, now takest thou mine
for without thy support I must surely decline.
Thus thou ought to realize I live in frightful
dread unless on thee I rely.
This heart beateth only for thine say I.
Thou hast undone me so prithee consider
direst consequence, face thy conscience
and beside me do stay.
I remain heavy with anticipation lest thy reply
dashes all trust and quill thee therefore
to think my Lord on resolving such trouble
as of utmost importance.
Sent in the month of September 1709.
From Mary Elizabeth, distraughtly thine.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
When you think the battle's ever won
By hundred spear, sword, or gun
In slashing, pillaged mortal right
Come together, for now we fight
Think not upon your mortal dread
Will fail you even when you're dead
The battle will for ever clatter on
Praised in joyous kinds of song
By gruesome men in drunken seige
The fight for the end is your liege
Not your pitiless sacred stone
Or the loved one left back home
But to fall upon the largest stage
The coming of the end of days
Honor and sacrifice is what will tell
The lasting sequence, the final bell
So stop ye now your idle chatter
Sharpen that what really matters
Try to remember what was done
The Sword, the Spear, or Gun.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
Come to me,
Oh look and see,
Please tell me that I don't belong.
To this place,
O' to this world,
To this situation I hath rote.
But negative,
Nay I say,
Tis a situation so grand,
That it can be only sung out in the tongue of yore,
For it is only the most noble of mantles,
Of Fatherhood's door I adorn.
It shall be I,
I be armed with simple tools,
A fresh ***** or bottle,
To assuage my young liege lord's woes,
For betwixt the soggy ure or rancid scitan,
I dread knowing such knowledge,
But my sacred duties of ****** I shan't ignore.
So for now,
Oh humble bards and wanderers,
Listen to this tale no more,
Create such joy and celebration,
For upon this day,
My Firstborn son is born.
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 2:11 PM UTC
I want someone to help me remember the day again,
I want someone to wake me up with a tickling to the chin, and say, 'get out of bed, lazy head'
and when my son runs in, pulls back the covers and shouts 'next stop, the seaside'
I want someone to make me laugh, and see me when i am not laughing,
when i cannot laugh, for there are tears that need to be bled
from my mind, like blood from a rock.
I want someone to drive with me to the places i love best, and hold my hand because
pieces of me are falling apart, and i am an old weather, rusted, old painted house
waiting to fall down, when someone slams a door.
I want someone to hold me in their arms, hold me so hard, so fast, so ****** hard
that my arms will bruise and i will cry with how my heart beats so scared
with being held, that it wishes to burst open, and free the hurricane inside.
I want someone to help me remember how to smile,
and when i am not smiling i am laughing,
and when i am not laughing, you are filling in the words to the old 80's ballads,
i forget the words to.
I want someone to be here, to be right ****** here,
I want someone to move mountains and sink ships, and drag me back from falling off the edge,
and say 'I love you, I love you, I love you' with tears in their eyes,
that they want to drown in should i not believe them.
I want someone to make sure they know, i know, they know what they are doing,
because when i am so ****** lost and lonely, no-one can tell what i might do,
except i don't because i don't, why would i? But they take me and hold me anyways.
I want someone to whisper in my ear, 'it's ok i got this' when i need a hand to hold me
I want someone to say 'listen the birds are chirping and you may never get another moment in your entire life to hear this sound, like this ever again'
I want someone to ask me what book i am reading, and watch my face as i turn into princesses, and damsels and toads, and stallions on which princes ride, to slay the dragon
and watch me runaway with myself.
I want someone to take my side, and realise i am not what i always think i am,
and sometimes i need a liege to my throne and a circle of knights to swear upon my honour
they will sit and ride at dawn for me.
I want someone to listen to me, and hear what i say, what i really say, which isn't anything at all,
but they will hear me, and the words i am screaming from an earthquake behind my
eyes.
I want someone to hold me by the face whilst i am crying and tell me that their whole world lies within me, and the more i cry, the more i lose a slight part of my heart beat in each tear,
and that everything would be ok, if i just trusted them one last time,
that everything would be ok.
I want someone to take me by the hand and say, you are mine, i am yours, i am yours, you are mine,
and the grip be firm, and the heart beats strong,
and we sit in the car, as it rains, and you hold me, you just hold me,
and remind me to see the day.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 11:57 AM UTC
Eager,
as a young hound
panting at a beloved master's heel,
my black, cruel eyes
shining,
upturned towards his trusting face,
the smiling icon,
religion's celebrity
adored throughout the living world.
Once,
I devoted myself,
soul and flesh combined
to my liege,
following in his sand-prints,
my own feet
almost shrunken in his over-sized steps,
the all-knowing giant,
a teacher
to the feeble being, myself.
Years passed sluggishly,
still treading deserts,
my soles bruised,
bleeding rivers from the arches,
I screamed for us to wait
only for a moment.
He turned,
with an expression of stone,
'You'll be a sinner if you stop,
so keep walking,
become God's serving girl'.
Shaking my head,
slowly,
lashes downcast,
I admitted the truth.
'I'd rather become a sinner
than pound sand
any longer,
call me a quitter
if you please,
but I'm done.'
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
Darkness prevails in a world full of tears
Defeated in battle and vanquished afar
Alone and on board I’ve sailed through the mere
I’ve beckoned her name but sunk only to depths
The steel that once fuelled the soul of my kin
Belongs in the shrine of the hand of my liege
Who’s might I saw crumble as he fell to the ground
But found breathe to summon and ask me this deed
Yet death was a whisper so imminent my friend
As I knelt at the cross of your beloved Sword
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
The king is dead.
We fed him knives and liquor.
Anything to seal his fate.
That much quicker.
The king is rotted in the media.
The fly cored out his body with maggot young.
Bled the liquor out with a funnel and dug in the carcass;
For blood rusted cutlery.
Calm and focused.
I lose my love for his liege.
As he ***** all the women, made our children believe,
He's the answer to questions,
In the ether still linger.
I burn up the vapor, with his name ghostly whispered.
The empires dead, we are red in the face of the answer,
The king wasn't there, now his bodies a phantom.
And I’m not shoulder deep in his blood from shoveling
But shackling myself in a corpse wrapped for posthumous reverie.
The sovereign lives!
He is you, not me.
A shackled neck for every broken king.
Self ownership ends, with the plows yolked to every sheepish smile, pan the lens.
The brain flows top down in the system of men.
This grey matter cage is forced through the gin.
Our corporeal visage is saliva in the face of the Prometheans before us.
We are the ******** if we don't roll fates stone,
And our eyes aren't picked out.
We should burn in that fire that so melted the wings of Icarus.
I'd rather my entrails eternally settle everyday in the belly of a crow, than be a stone with rested moss shaping the kings carved throne.
Encrusted with Slave Carcasses.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
It is generally supposed we come to this place
As a just reward for treachery and traitorousness.
Indeed, nothing could be farther from the truth;
Most of my compatriots her have blindly hitched their fortunes
To some flag, some shining dogma, our fates sealed
Through an unwillingness to be sufficiently self-interested,
The refusal to abandon ship once it became apparent
That the experience upon the rocks
Would be neither enabling nor ennobling.
My own case is illustrative of the rule;
My father, noble sovereign ascending to the throne
Via parlor tricks and the rustic embrace of folk legend,
(The fornication resulting in my birth brushed aside
As some accident of mistaken identity or enchantment)
Is celebrated, beatified really, in song and legend,
Yet I, who pulled myself up by my own bootstraps as it were,
Winning his queen’s hand and defeating him on the field,
Am consigned to this unhappy place in perpetuity,
Suffering demons who hiss ******* Usurper!*
As they put me through my paces
(One takes their rebukes with a grain of salt;
They are all mad, the likely result of dealing with this glut of madmen.)
As I noted, the presence of myself and my brethren in this place
Serve as a testament to the merits of fidelity,
Which we commemorate daily, some days several times
(I confess it seems more than a touch silly,
But the necessity of creating distractions
Trumps other concerns in a locale such as this)
By staging caucus races, each participant addressing
The ******* in front of him directly,
Paying it fealty--My liege! My liege!--which is answered in turn
By a cannonade of noxious farting
(We assume the smells to be offensive,
As the atmosphere here is somewhat deleterious at all times)
All to the great amusement of those sprites
Who observe our machinations,
They in turn guffawing madly and urinating downward upon us
While we, as the acidic waste corrodes us, also cackle like lunatics,
Fairly shouting Ah, the gentle rain of Heaven--thank you, Lord!
Though, oddly enough, our laughter at times
(Most likely due to the aridity of the atmosphere around us)
Seems to catch a bit in the throat.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
ich jage meinen gedanken hinterher,
und erkenne mich selbst manchmal nicht mehr.
es scheint so, als würde sich alles um mich drehen,
irgendwie ist es so als würde ich die welt nicht mehr verstehen.
was ich mache scheint falsch zu sein,
innerlich fange ich langsam an zu schreien.
weiß nicht was ich tue und liege im zimmer,
ich fühle mich so als wäre das ein gewitter.
alles scheint so als würde es nicht vergehen,
ich bin in meinem kopf angelangt und merke ich bleibe stehen.
alles um mich verändert sich,
und alle anderen lassen mich plötzlich im stich.
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
Dear Life,
I know you will never be easy, and I know that perfection is far from your nature, and most of all I know my path with you will be anything but easy, but I know you will be worth it in the end. My Lady, I will walk beside you learning from the paths you choose until the moment my legs give out and you must leave me behind. For you stop for no man. Yet.. I honestly feel sorry for you. You are forced to leave so many good friends behind, but maybe we will meet again.
Dear Death,
You are inevitable yet many run from you. I’m sure you often feel all alone, but, my Lord, need I remind you some run to you with arms wide open saying, “Please.. Take me away from this place.” Does taking an innocent soul from this world before it’s time, no matter how broken, feel any better than solitude..? I won’t run from you, but I also won’t run to you any longer. When our time comes to meet, I will greet you as a good friend, as a lover, as someone I haven’t seen in ages and have been waiting for. I know this meeting will come, but maybe we have met before.
Dear Love,
You span both your siblings: both Life and Death. And you sometimes tie two people together so tightly with your little red cord that even one lifetime, two lifetimes, ten lifetimes later they can still look at one another, being strangers in that moment, and feel a strange tug of comforting familiarity. Yes. Sometimes no matter how loud you shout that they are meant to be they will be deaf to you passing like ships in the night never again to see the one they once called by your name. I’m not sure if we have met before, if I’ve passed by you not recognizing your beautiful eyes, or if our meeting is yet or never to come. But, my Liege, I pray it comes or comes again.
Dear Somebody,
I’ve begun to learn my lessons. I intend to enjoy Life’s company to the fullest, and will wait to commune with Death; I will embrace Love when they come to me without judgement merely opening my arms welcoming Love as if they were always a part of me. As if you.. Whoever you are… Were always a part of me. I’ll say, “Thank you for finding me. You are special beyond belief, and I hope that spark you hold never fades. So please take a seat. Let your wandering feet rest and make yourself at home in my life.” If Love must take their leave, and we become a mere pair in space I’ll remind you one last time that you are and always will be cared for. So please, Dear One, I beg of you don’t do anything rash. Don’t run to Death or from his twin sister Life, but most of all if love doesn’t stay with us. Find someone who Love will stay with, forever. Because that will make both Life and Death seem meaningless. That will make days fade into years, and that, Beautiful One, is what makes our existence worthwhile.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
You & I
can be royalty.
A king & a queen
building castles,
tearing down walls,
bringing peace,
feasting on each other.
I can comfort you
in the finest array of dress,
caress your mind
with the things you adore,
show you more
than just one kiss.
And most certainly,
I'd be remiss
if I left out love
in our world of wars.
O, your Royal Highness,
my liege, my huckleberry,
please pen me something
full of sweetness,
laden with tenderness,
spilling gentleness
about
you & I.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
What does it mean to be truly free? /
Walk unafraid through the turbulence /
Of a world with so much unknown. /
Know that the principalities in power /
Do not quell, do not pacify the Holy Dove. /
The heartless, the lost, the wayworn, /
We pray they'll find their way /
We beseech divine Aether that all pain be undone. /
A miasma lingers in the atmosphere: /
The sting of death & of mourning. /
Wandering in loss, fugitive these words lay /
In my subconscious; therefore, I look within /
For the sinew, the strength to carry on. /
Life continues for so long as we pilgrimage, we roam, /
The Land of The Living. /
3 "With that I heard a loud voice from the throne say: /
'Look! The tent of God is with mankind, and he will reside with them /
And they will be his people. And God himself will be with them. /
4 And he will wipe out every tear from their eyes and death will /
Be no more, neither will mourning, nor outcry nor pain be anymore. The former things have passed away.'"—Revelation 21: 3, 4 (NWTSE)
What limitless heights we could achieve /
Without the kiss of death, /
Yet a life eternal awaits those who are liege & faithful /
Yes, one without suffering & one without loss; /
Moreover, cause for rejoicing! /
Should I awake upon the morrow /
I will not fear my departure /
For I know that something illimitable, something aeonic, something sempiternal, /
& something far grander awaits: /
—Life eternal. /
Mar 22, 2024
Mar 22, 2024 at 3:44 PM UTC
Everything is lying in me
Decays between twilight and being dead
All that can not be true
But it damages my head
With plausibility and anger
I don't let myself loose
Being free is insanity
Here, on this earth,
I lie alone at the moment and forever
Strengthen myself
To come clear
with myself
My consciousness lies
On a pillow nearby in the shadow
Without passion I shiver
and freeze
Past
Past
PAST
blows the wind in my eyes
and I look past
Well, a tear whispers
or do I only ask myself why not?
The most miserable contentment
Everything hangs near and is missed by me
Equally
Obfuscated
[Verwischt--
Alles lügnet in mir
verfällt zwischen Zwielicht und Totsein
Das alles kann nicht wahr sein
Aber schädet mein Kopf
Mit Plausibilität und Ärger
ich lass mich selber nicht los
Freisein ist Wahnsinn
Hier, auf dieser Erde,
Liege ich plötzlich allein und für immer
Bekräftige mich
Um klar zu kommen
Mit mir
Selbst
Liegt mir das Bewusstsein
Am Kissen nebenbei im Schatten
Ohne Wollust zittere ich
Und friere
Vorbei
Vorbei
VORBEI
blässt der Wind in meinen Augen
Und schau' ich vorbei
Na, flüstert eine Träne
Oder frage ich mir nur wieso sonst?
Erbärmlichsten Behagen
Alles hängt nah und fehlt mir
gleicherweise
Verwischt]
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 1:35 AM UTC