i have been taken ill
skylines and cemeteries fill my thoughts
dead men walk with me in my dreams
inches away from my heart
a stone stopped beating
a girl plucks the heads of the sparrows
that
i live in a room
full of green
exit signs
neon-lit promises
of transcendence
oozing
impatience
as if my life
was
the most insecure
place
in the
universe
and I’d have
to go
no sun rose over the hills this morning
and i was gathering my dog-hands around the keyboard
to let them show you the latest tricks i taught them
i sent you some pictures with cloudless
i ran out of time and i
am cut off from myself
like a soldier from his sword
i have no memories of colors
and things seem to happen and grow around me
without meaning
like grass on
she severed her arteries and fed the peacocks
back then i was driving her everywhere
and people wondered how beautiful her wounds were
how infinitely delicate and sincere
her whole being was some
it’s the mornings when i feel it the most
the heavy shadow of years past
growing threateningly like a deamon’s wing
i feel older than the universe
with every breath of air that forces itself into
it’s plain stupid
it’s blue ‘till it’s dark and too late
you might wanna
look her up on facebook or youtube
there’s plenty of her over there
hours and hours of ravishing meatloaves
hammering
blue like a fog in a childhood story is the summer night
and its shadowy petals are spread everywhere as if
it were some kind of autumn, short-lived and strange
like the sudden spasms of your
sunset
your lips taste like bacon
and cheese
forbidden tastes the sky colored all red
your sparkling saliva
lighting up the lanterns of desire
like cleggs waking up a torpid horse
it was
like animals eating grass like
butterflies spreading wings
like infants crying like
bicycle wheels turning
like rain pouring down like
desert snakes looking for pray
like the silence after a
bits and pieces of me all over the place
like half empty boxes spread everywhere
while the removal man quietly drinks his coffee
and contemplates a quick whacking off
before the cleaning lady
the boy dreamed the blue whale
biggest of all on earth
blue and quiet and pretty much endless
like the dream itself
and fell in love with the
strange, quiet creature
he then thought he will
the boy hitting the wall
with his ragged tennis ball
is the Hero of my afternoons
he has no one to play with
just like me
but unlike me
he gives his very best
day by day
loses and wins and
i’m wasting my time
trying to write down this poem
and i know it
i did it already so many times
listening to cheap music
hoping to somehow be inspired
by vulgarity and stupidity
or to get
one pair of red soft gloves
one silver lighter
three or four feet of cheep wire
two or three gallons of gas
and a quiet place
where I can blow myself up
peacefully
without disturbing the
[...]
and then the air begins coughing out birds and
the trees start shouting their flowers at me
and the morning unleashes upon me
the mujahideens of your presence
it is time.
tomorrow I’ll be dead and dancing
my eyes closed in relief and in anger
my courage waiting for me like a deadskin
just about to be eaten
to ferment and to be born anew
to transform itself
and
now I know a little more than before
i have a couple of extra hours every day
i have the whole night
you can never tell how good your sight is
until you turn off the lights
you can never tell
i
the more I think about it
i imagine you like a white hospital
with clean, fresh sheets and large windows
and bright, airy rooms
and nurses anxiously waiting
for something to go just a little
dich zu gebären
in meinem leeren Mund
in mir deinen dunklen Traum zu spüren
wie einen Keim, der schweigend sucht
sich zu entsamen
und doch sich zu verhüllen
dich zu gebären
in meinem
PS