Saturday, August 30, 2014

Act for no reason

__I am waiting – no_thing decays
Not 1 molecule^changes its position
Rack NO – 21 (A & B)
The “””halbwertszeit””” is flawed
I switch seats < only in my MIND -
Only in MY mind >> u kiss me >
I could complain - About some *(thing)
Rack NO – 22(A & B)
A typo before the(bracket
There’s always something ~to complain
, - Or I could read > Act on impulse <>
^reload --> act for no reason
It never works out 
The way it was planned ...

Friday, August 29, 2014

Burn it

Ccut the wire, be hurtfully bblunt
Sset it on ffire, jumpp, jumpp!
Somethhing always hhinges
Something’s alwayys loudd
Imagine the aftergloww
Burn it, burn, bblow it all out!

From the skywalk

Then we reached the state of interior paintings
This is a view from the skywalk, this a view from the kitchen ceiling
There is always something crumpled or ajar
The impression of a spontaneous time slot
The glimpse of a spot, just now it was still in use
There is no still life here, everything digests everything
There is only a hint and - signals and misreadings

End summer season

I sent u this do I wanna know song
U pretended not to have seen 
Now I’m one of your unseens
It’s the only status I ever had, and still
I would have taken it, one day
They will find me out, you said
It’s not even important, it’s just
Signaling and signaling
Selling things - too serious
Taking things under value
I’m unfair, u r nothing
Like that, only pretext now
A stir of memory without promises
You wanted it that way
On the run to have reasons
To turn back into a hive of
Busy and sweet 
End summer seasons

In the centre of things

In this place we conceptualise things
Blood of several thousand warriors
Between days and dust of seasons
Pulsated from elbows into wood
Ebony and arches, relentless bullseye
A clock in the centre of things, awkward things
Two horses carrying newly weds
Filtered air and second floor stacks
Bats looking down on us, no change in scenery
Glitter brained swarm of would like to be
I place my diamonds in the middle of the table
Spasmodic interception, they don’t say binoculars
They say glasses here – he wasn’t looking
For diamonds, he was looking for pearls
In a horse’s nostrils - no promises lost
No promises found

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Thursday, August 14, 2014

close to the dead animal

the movie was so dark
I could almost watch my reflection
in every scene

chasing sweet days of innocence
a mouse in a space suit
floating around my feet

biting the peach
the fruit i relished
has never been fair

i apologize from distance
my thoughts have gone numb
drawing circles into a square

there is a new scenery
i want to watch it 
holding tea - only its steam

everything is pretentious
suddenly the russian accent is sexy
i never liked it before

i’m going transparent
watch my heart beat into my wrists
my lung breathe into my womb

he lives behind the gate
knows how to prick needles
through my left ear

i grow suspicious
of people acting serious
nothing is vital in here

an opera is drained
they say it’s relieving
minds and hearts from fear

all is more than a year
behind the calendar
nobody seems to care

i walked up to the bus
to find it deserted
only one boy sitting at the end

he did not take my hand
my thoughts are in the harbour
close to the dead animal

we migrate
creatures of sand
the grave you dug up and mine

escaped an ending
sky takes over infinity
is a game of despair

it’s all cracks - the radio
doesn’t contain 
any thing

i hear voices
taped a hundred years
into the future

trying to begin a happy ending
my frequency
strangely out of sync

the packages are lost
you never received them
maybe she didn’t give them up

everything is wrong
about needing someone
look away – then i am gone

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

to say

i walked out
on you. 
nothing more 
to say.


Wir machen jetzt Photos mit im Nachhinein hinein kaschierten Lichteffekten, ein goldener Streifen hier, ein paar Lichtpunkte dort, ist das nicht romantisch, absichtlich, sieht doch ganz träumerisch aus. 


There is this book on the shelve, it is called SIMULATION, I can clearly read it and still my brain adds a T, every time I look at it. Fourth Edition.

Deep enough

Someone died, someone famous, and the entire world seems to outcry But-We-Loved-Him-So-Much--How-Could-This-Happen? Well, maybe this love was not deep enough. Do you know what it means - to love? next week you'll fill that space in your heart with something random, something new. How much effort do we take to know someone - deep enough?

Keep away

This silence in me, it yearns to keep away - away from all. And when I comply, it yearns to get closer. Maybe I can count on this Wechselspiel as the only consistency to count on. Maybe.