Thursday, September 11, 2014

a tide rolling in

i’ve lined myself
up, far back in hiding

behind walls
loopholes:

there’s a digital edition of every
thing

deciphering
messages, yours
always come in lyrics

from now on let's try
out colours

storylines
you want to be your own

i agreed with everything

except revealing the secret
of sad moments

i know i am not
a fortuneteller, still

i knew you would come
a tide rolling in

there is a sadness to everything
beautiful

in the woods
we get lost when we forget

wandering alone
can be a crossroad on its own

when your hands were tender
I felt close

when we were closer, your hands had
already shed skin




It's the fault of the coin

It’s the fault of the coin
I do not bet
I only barter

And still I lose
Myself in your charms
No thing lasts, every thing is
Replaceable

But the look in your eyes

And this song, again and again
I talked
Myself out of the deal
Can only imagine that she is beautiful
Skin on skin
I do not dare to come closer

You look me up
In a random telephone book
And walk into my neighbourhood
Was that an ego thing or did you
Truly want to stand there

In your hair the morning sun
I wished you would crash into that wall
To make things less numb
To feel the world undone
You
Bewildered and loved
Every fucking
Single day through



Friday, September 05, 2014

Tuesday, September 02, 2014

They sink into me

Suddenly I’m all talkative and apologetic.
I’m not used to seeing myself like this.
From ping to ping my thoughts sound more pathetic …
You say it’s ok, after all we are human.
What on earth do you know of that? and of
madness and inferences and going berserk?

I watch a giant ant crawl into my closet,
followed by a second one, now it is a street,
sitting in the middle of the crossroad
between dusty shelves and cleared out pockets
I’m waiting for something to jump
-         -  nothing jumps.

But I cannot say this to you. So many things I cannot say.
For instance that
soon we will all turn into silver.

Then I am back to the books, and this guy
sorts magazines on my desk, MIT and Harvard out of the blue
only the best of the best. You start talking about business.
All I can hear is tired dreams and numbness. Your words are heavy.
They sink into me and stay for days.
You never tell me how to get rid of them.
All I can do is going numb and forgetting about you.