he is the sun.
with his bright red hair and his warm hands
freckles all over
he shines
gives warmth and light to people

I am the moon.
a bit cold and a bit sad
with pale white
kinda dusty skin
with scars like craters


the moon can't shine without the sun
but still it is not less important.

sun gives warmth, casts shadows
moon controls the tides,
sees things in a different light

we are the sun and the moon.
like all people are.

crowd of tiny black birds
one of them prettier than the rest
feathers shimmering golden
but when his brothers and sisters fly
it remains below
because you can't fly with wings made of gold

raven picking out
eye and brain of dead pigeon
what an eerie sight

his lips could destroy worlds
I told him.
and he smiled that smile.

oh how welcome is  
warm water slowly dripping
embracing the icyness of my body
with it's vast whiteness

I paint flowers so they
will not die again

my heart is leaking
the people on the street
they smell its strange scent

it's no lie when I said that I felt eternity
but I always did nothing but repeatedly make you sad.

please let me sleep with your name resounding in my head
the passing days
the weeks and months
they drew us apart
your name hurts my mouth when I speak it out loud
the name which i can not call out
it burns my lips when I whisper

we were  looking for the the others faults when
we should have looked at each other

my limbs are trembling to the sound of storm
hitting the glass of my window
the sound of it kills the silence
the tranquility I seek
the repose I need

I don't want you to fade
even though the last memories of you
envenom my insides
like a snakebite

my body is rotting away, returning me to earth
she embraces me like a mother

I want to hear, even a sigh
a small hearbeat that isn't and won't be there
that little rythm

my nightmares are unchanging
the drowning days
their weight piles up on me
a burden.

the spider lily is in bloom
the moon will fall
this second winter is standing still
spring will not come again

it's cold but I won't lock the door.
Maybe you'll come.
Maybe spring will be with you.

a flower for each
time I think of you will make
me a huge garden

seems like I am -
I have disconnected from
every human I've ever met
ever had been bound to

am I a ghost?
am I an angel?

this  is a bad place
either way -

I am in a bad place
anyway

do you realize
there was this moment in your life
when your parents
put you down
and never picked you up?

We will sit in a small room
and I will awkwardly explain to you
the naming system
and why storms and hurricanes
are named after people.


The moment I leave
you will understand
why storms are named after people

i am cottongrass

in a field
so lightheaded

im sleeping alone

and i am alive
            aliv e
                 ali ve
                                                ali vlight
                              al lii gv hte

a i            e

april first is gone
but the world is still full of
lies and deception

I can see the future.
It's not a happy foresight.
Dead.

I dream about it every night.
It's not a nice dream.
A nightmare.


Massive constructions made of concrete and steel.
Grey giants moulding the cities.
No colour, only the cold colours of illuminated signs - eyestabbing sabers of light.
You can't see the naked soil, no plants, no sky.

People have no presence, wandering around spiritless -
Controlled by the artificial intellgence they once created,
People themselves are nothing but copies of their past,
Built-in in this huge system of nothing.

You know too much? You die.

The sky is always crying about the lost planet.
Tears in the form of raindrops fall on the city all the time.


Sometimes in my nightmares
a butterfly appears out of nowhere.
Just a small, white one.
A fragile piece of hope fluttering through the dark future.