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