He stands awake. A foxlike figure ventures into the woods. Voluptuous fears. His only chance To speak half-truths. He steps away, The river dries out. He does not know How to swim. He falls asleep, dreaming of broken windows, blue-tinted grass And old-fashioned toys. A tiny merry-go-round running out of battery. Voluptuous fears. His only chance To speak half-truths.
Stepping aside, And mending steps, And working two jobs, And renewing her magic. Like the black magic That comes and goes. Like the black magic That comes and goes. Silent wishes, Dreading fun, Founding fathers Of fear and dust. Feeling lonely, Stomping feet, Crafting stitches, and black crows. Like black magic That comes and goes. Dream and hide Her feet deep In the sand. Her troubles diluted With sips of bitter […]
Stepping stone, Wonderful ears They hear the music While I swing along. Back and forth, Like a little child That sleeps And does not want To get woken. Like a song That does not end In innuendo. Wonderful years They go away Like a sad song, Like the slipping rain. Stupid fears, Those hectic lives, The bells go wild.
I wish I'd told you earlierHow much I likeWalking over thin ice. I feel the thrill to open up pandora’s box, the one holding the key to your desires. I just want to carry on walking,Feeling the sun on my back,Stepping over the edge. Just. I wish I’d put on better shoes,Since the edge is long and slipperyAnd I keep looking down the abyss. And while I stay still,A fly sits on the tightrope.Suddenly I start sneezingAnd lose my balance. I […]
Hop on, story master, The one that would not let Her fears run awayThrough the back door. Unrelenting strideGets nearAnd gets catapultedTowards the crying treeThe willowThat my dad pruned.It had to dieAnd with one last cryIt got swallowed up by the earth. Rest in peace majestic willowThe one beautiful backdrop Of my endless summer holidays.When I was a childAnd then you dieWith your unrelenting stride.Story master leaves.
Apocalyptic fearsThat come and go,Marvelous weatherThat gives me solace.I feel slightly thirsty.The housecleaner is goneAnd the floors are wet,Ready for my indoor skating.Dying habitsAnd freckled skin,The dog approachesAnd wets my kneeWith his muzzle. Acerbic love. I take a sip Of my wine.I call a truce,She leaves an open door.The wooden panel creaks,I get flusteredAnd my cheeks reddenWhen I imagine myselfWriting this.
Venomous snakeThat bites my ankle.Slimy markImprinted on my skin.I did not even noticeI was trespassingYour green garden.The one thatI used to step upon With naked feet.I distance myself,Dancing,Dangling my legsUnder my polka-dotted skirt.All I neededWas to doodleSmall figurinesOn your blank notebook.Doodle away,And take a sip of coffee.Famine aboundsAnd you needTo stop wasting away.Willingness is the wonderfulGift of the soul bearers.They instillFanciful thoughtsAnd set them alight.Open sky,A broken key,Bringing downThe merry outskirts.They do not wantTo kneel […]
Sailing solo,Sand and songs,One wet page,All sweet and dour.I feel the soothing caressOf the steaming bath.I smear the mirrorWith wet tenderness.Cold water,Lashes at my back.I lash out,As if your long handsWere graspingGolden ringsThat my fingers Will never wear. Sad song, Blinking boat Sailing solo.
Stretch out your hands,Caress the book covers,Savor their titles,Enjoy their pensive skin.Don’t fear funEmbrace the wonderOf those sad stories thatYou almost dreamed.Yellowed pages,Dog-eared chapters.The wordsYou didn’t writeAre truly yours.Like black magicInk disappears.With empty lungs, I bark,And I bow to the writerFrom the resolute wisdomOf the starry desert.Like black magicInk disappears.These are the booksyou should have written.Your travel companionsTo the afterlife.This very barking night.
Humanistic woman,Yet not humane,Fat with ideasBursting off the seams. Can’t keep Probing her thoughtsIn a world thatLaughs at its own jokes. She tightens her beltBut fragmented sentencesKeep rumblingInside her belly.She can hear themRevolting in her guts. She is hungry,She doesn’t even knowHow to keep her diet in check,How to digest all those stewed letters. Fat with ideasBursting off the seams. She is hungry,Yet she doesn’t even knowHow to concoctSome random verses.There is not even rhymeAnd even in freestyleThat is a recipe […]