20201031

sad girls unite

i wish this was better than playing video games, but it is not
so i roam the internet for new beginnings and 
wait for messages to never arrive
you know who you are
(two-faced signs gestured in your direction)
some needed the space
others took it for granted
in my little box
in awe of a thousand snippets
filling the function with heart-felt forecasts
but hopefully none of it is true
none of which
but then again
hopefully it is
however
still wishing, but it is not


mymy

for holding that little fist of smoke
in your arms
lock-jared
locked for good
locked for better times
for yesterday 
your tongue in my ear
your hand around my neck
please tell me
anything really
slipshot wrapped packages
kept on a lead
how cruel of you 
sending such neglect

20201029


 

20200930

Still

Events keep happening
Strange times, in which,
there
I see, open windows
Closing windows right after,
like touching your face 
cotton-wrapped
The realization, that nothing ever changes.
Well
In the sulky silence of so-called thoughts running the events,
that just keep on happening.
But the expectancy of
no visions, it is basic physics,
for what it is,
I hear, perfect teeth blinking
in unheard calculations of algorithms
Anyway
better to close the window, I think
in nipple-long messages, striving lickpots
merging into the deepest of banalities.
Already an accomplishment when staying
with one idea longer than
minutes really, not a lot of them
just a few
maybe two hands full. Maybe not even.
Well
Sleep is another event
of the days, always day
that keeps on happening
but less
Long necks growing downward like
navigational lights
shooting panels into the sky
strings of pearls are circling the earth
marching for better connection
hiding away the bones of the senseless attempts
for
connection.
Still
Single-handedly, it feels,
holding vague structures as high as
the spheres of above-mentioned pearls
building the biggest death house
a wondrous place
not heavier than a strawberry if measured
pressing
brains into diamond-shaped
explanations of 
well
nothing

20200818

Zwitschern

Die Kritikfähigkeit hält sich in Grenzen.

Alles für die Geschichte

Ich trage
den Biss in meine Wade.

Die Beschriftung der zu sortierenden Akten
Lade auf, Braten rein,
Flamme an, Lade zu,
Wasser in den Topf.
Langsam saugt die Wärme an den Speisen.

Stinkend nach Formaldehyd
die Schlange in meiner Hand.
In ihrem Glas
nach unten gedreht
in einer Spirale.

Alle Tage wieder ließ sie aufheulen.
Man muss forschen,
ja, aber ich weiß,
dass die Aufgabe die Wärme ist.

Bewusst, dass es keine Zeit
und keine Möglichkeit auf Heilung geben würde,
legte ich ihn in sein Terrarium.
Aus gegebenem Anlass beschäftige ich mich
mit gewissen Themen.
Mit sehr vielen Themen,
unglaublich vielen.

Am Anfang warst du noch so lieb zu mir.