ich radelte
und die musik in der nacht brachte bilder
janis joplin
santa monica blvd at night. envisioning you in your car, coming to a halt. asking me to get in. i felt like your bride. my heart was pounding. heavy. quivering.
but no tears yet no well.
dry.
other images in layers
i am sitting at the tree in berlin
at the spree
i see you walk in with your wife your girl on your arm
and you would walk by and we would
never meet
because it was a short time window that had opened
for us to meet
usually i was aware of the fact
that i would still pulsate
in excitement upon
seeing you
entering a room or a party
but that night
was different.
i knew, simply knew,
that we would have never talked.

time differences and spaces
making bubbles and protecting what is
it s good that way
it s just that i am watching
from the outside
i never had the chance to access
that well
of forgetting.

listen as the wind blows
crows disappear at night into the black
black in black
like my hopes.

i have the strong feeling of being a stranger in my own life.
my room feels good and homey and home, but i am a stranger in my own life. i am only visiting.

spa e

the vastness of the other world is consuming my music
or is it just one point, containing it all
the seed to let it grow
the tree into the spiritual world
a ladder to the heavens
a ladder to sweat and hard work
every day
a little bit of will

forget about discipline
it is in the steps
the getting up after falling down
like children
when they learn how to walk they say.

miles davis reveals in a silent way
i am a bit pouty
something my dad said upsetting me

the world has many more problems other than just that
you know it makes me think
the vastness
and the things we do

do they have any value
at all? when they feel good....
i mean, that doesnt' say anything after all.

it s not really a problem. it just stirs.
i cannot say anything about it.
the rain said it all.
early morning murmuring outside my balcony.