i was sitting in the green chair, across the room from you.
you, on the violet white blanket with flower print. your sister gave it to me.
our bed.
the window, and soft, the green behind the screens.
cloudy, your hair, and soft your playing, sitting there, but gone with the wind.
i watched the light around us and the warmth.
stark and clear a thought grew inside: this is the good old time. now. and i will remember this forever. this moment of you, and me, and the beauty, so pervasive.
it was a moment made for eternity and doomed to fleet and whither then. dissolving in the salty streams of life.
it was the beginning of the end. like bells ringing beautifully the night to sleep.

excorcisms

his insecurities made me ache. the self conscious nervous laughter at all the wrong moments dooming the situation to feel uneasy and secretly I cringed inside.
only when pretending to be asleep I could let my guard down a little and just enjoy the closeness. daylight made it impossible however. his close drawing in, his inability to listen and wait and sit back to watch things grow left me deserted in my own confusion. already as we drove down the autobahn i felt it wasn't LA and it wasn't PCH or 101. A weird kaleidoscope of things had swirled me around. A weekend with the quality of the eye of a storm, sweeping my away into the big stream of life, rushing me to the seas.
But he was the X. The unknown. The incomprehensible. His interpretations sucked the reel away. My mind formed around the feelings, leaving my wounds and love and attachments wash away as the music got pushed against the four corners of the room and through the locked door. Only for a few moments my ghosts and demons lingered, getting all tangled up trying to manifest just to get sucked away in the very next instance, dissolving in the wild.
his insecurities, his wounds, his broke.
too much to care for. too much talking. too much reflection. too much light. too much of everything.
i just had to hide. i can't break through this one. it only works when it's meant to be. and torn walls can build up in disguise, within the protected.

priorities gone astray

it´s,. at times, the comic amusement that triggers me to do that. all day i don´t feel like it and then at night, i do one mouse click, get on that site and amuse myself in strange manners. almost feeling like staring at an accident when obviously that´s the last thing one ought to do.
sometimes i think, you better know real well, what you wish for.
if, what you want, is really what you ´d want, if you could get it for real.
so late, i sit, and spend my time. i´m so incredibly far away.

later

sometimes
I realize how much I still look
to see if I can find your face in the crowd, the edge of the picture, the reflections in windows in videos far away.
then I receive a message and I scan the letters meticulously, re-read it, re-think it. Read it again.
Surprised I cock my head as if to listen to a faint voice, echoing somewhere in the vastness of my heart. If there is. There still is. Something.
Later I notice how I kick the fallen leaves like a kiddo and think much love.
It is weird, isn't it.
Nashville, you sound, and, I blank everything out. Everything that could disturb this warm feeling that is etching my armor away, minute by minute, letter for note.

good to see you
see you progress
do, what you love
so hard, not to be your mother
not to be your lover
not to be your girl.

things have changed here
and I grow even stronger
I never wanted to
I was so strong already

it's so good to see your face
your hair
and your body

sometimes it is so hard
not to think
who you touch these days
and who takes part in all
these steps you take
i plowed the ground
with my bare hands
it hurts

I am so happy these days
only occasionally caving in to this
and
I am so

I am wondering
what all this means
still,
ain't that funny
wondering, if you ever waste a thought
or feeling
and if
if it's really just
a love gone wrong
a youthful excursion
adventure
they say
and if
it's really just okay
to let go
and keep going

implications

implications
fears
pushed away
shoved away
don't think about it
be sad later
don't deal with it
pretend otherwise

really
what are the implications
honestly?
without fearing to
lose myself in this jungle
of complications

what are the implied negatives
that i try not to assume
that my dreams gather and keep record off
meticulously
lousy cold the weather
and smiles
pass unaccounted for

what is the biggest fear
connected to this
utter rejection
betrayal
denial
gone wrong
done wrong
did wrong
so long?

things about
who I am
and what I mean to somebody
and what I believe, hiddenly, that I deserve
derived from who I consider myself to be
and what I consider to have done

like...it's okay to make grave mistakes
on either side
and hence
we
move on?

the howling of the wolves
from deep down
emerging unbeknownst
ever again

I sleep like a child, waking up to my own voice
sobbing, trying to trace the floating fragile images of a dream that is quickly escaping my consciousness. i calm down and listen to the cold outside, rehearsing to creep through the cracks in my windows and walls, like ivy crawling up the walls of time.
I can hear her breathe I can touch her back she is real and she is there so I can go back to sleep.
Outside the wolves are howling
and the wind is whisteling
and the thoughts are tormenting
and the feelings are invading
and everything is in shambles and shatters and fragments
the whole of the story has slipped and broke
in thousand renditions it harms my soul
with every howl it comes closer
brings that dark moon ever so close
shivering cries in the dark
echoing in the light of it´s frowning grin
fowl scents of rotten flesh wounds
catering to their needs
hurt, hurt, hurt they scream
Johnny Cash sings hurt
I cuddle deeper into the blanket
mingle my feet with hers
think of the refuge to come
of painting to be painted
of stories to be written
of nights to be spent
alone

i hold the coin in my hands
it's burning into my skin
the odor of burnt flesh makes me gag
i can't believe either of the sides
neither head nor tail
i think i just gotta flip the coin
and never pick it up again

bad

this is bad
i am that close
hovering right on the verge
above the verge
at the verge
merging
but i draw back
fight
don't know anything
but
that maybe now i just gotta
cut
wait
withdraw
stop
concentrate on what's up
not on what's been
fucking beens

lisa
strange it seemed to me then
didn't wanna return to Borl
although, I thought to myself,
it had been the most amazing, miraculous summer ever been
she knew
and i didn't
but she also suffered
when heart strings
popped
and she had to sew
and cut

theory of relativity

sunken beneath the shadows of a love bigger than life
images unreal, descendants of imaginations of false illusions
false security
the sin of looking back
turning into a pillar of salt
returning ever again
to the well of pain
absentmindedly, like a passer by looking on
as if unconcerned
and as if it really didn't mean me
i know that she is out there
trying to make me hurt
to redeem her insecurities
that inevitably befall every one fallen on his way
freeing myself from these images of the past
i try to conquer my way
write her
try to state how i moved on
claim a piece of independence fuck you attitude
that is not mine

the only pain killer for such numb unreal pain really
is creativity
transformity
not pity
?

fiction

it's distant now. i am okay. when i am drunk i do stupid things. but i am okay. even songs are okay. actually, a lot is okay.
i'm glad you are okay
and i have so much fun. i really do. you know what is funny?
what
when we had that dinner at the thai place. that one already tainted with injustice - i saw the inside of your wallet when you searched for your card.
so
i saw that damn paper.
i know we had a fight about it
the funny thing about it is that this was the worst moment of betrayal to me. that you'd carry this paper around with you

struck

the perfectly
wide
scenery
destroyed
no looking farther than the horizons no more
one bolt
struck
lights
in the wrong place
lightning the damage
way too obvious
clearly stating
what had been carved into the bloody ground:
UTTER BETRAYAL
it was

truths

half.

lies

see, if you guys just have fun
i'll be happy

at home

she doesn't leave and i almost feel guilty for the tide of annoyance and frustration that starts to rise within.
it s time to go now.

dark

i wonder if i will become
like her
and what could be done
to bring peace to
her mind
i find it hard to bare
unhappiness trickling into dry ground
it is
chappy
chinky
cracky
gaping
it is pulling me into its chasms
its clefts
its
great divide

oh Mother, blessed are thou
blessed be thou

look

look
there is a new side to this
a dark side of your moon
a new window
another perspective
another way of seeing things
dark glasses to shade me from this sun

look
your yelp for my pretending
the need for forgiveness
your pleas and your asking how I am
is tiring by now
i don't want to make you feel good
nor should you try to make me smile

who the fuck do you think you are
to want to make me smile
after you ripped out my heart,
ate it raw
just to spit it out like a coward

who the fuck do you think you are
to ask me how I am and to let you know
how things are going
it is none of your business no more
there is a reason i don't ask you anymore

i don't want to know

yes i do

yes i do
the whole masochist thing
but maybe it is just something else
therapy
go back, go back, go back

look at the picture, carefully. try to take it all in, miss no detail. imagine the rest, fill in the gaps. think of what it could all mean, be, if that's what..
he needs.
wants.
indeed.

so you go back, just to feel your heart racing one more time.
pack your stuff, hit the road, do the whole thing
work, make money, pay your debts, listen to that song
it's shitty anyways.

your right leg is shivering ever so slightly
slowly the heart rate goes down
you think of that movie barefoot and smile
the moon has turned its light on.

yes i do, i do!
that therapy thing
now go and blow some smoke rings
maybe somebody hears
maybe you ll come to your senses
maybe you won't fear.

this is it
it s okay
this is it man
you are dead for me

or so it feels
keep on going your ways
they are yours
they won't cross mine
i belong to the living

and trust me that's just a weak solace

sometimes

sometimes
we have to.
get the act together and not indulge
not buy ice cream but keep on walking
sometimes
it helps when there is no money
sometimes
you have to be a big girl now

CV no more
it is night and dark and i should write
write about my life, who i am and why i am so great
it´s weird
and i walked so many miles today, tired in the subway
sitting, watching, waiting
enrolling
going through some growing pains
is it right, is it right, is it right?
maybe i should have..? no?

but no, now everything is done
only the hunt for money now
some cute pies drifting by in the dark
like fishes in a fishtank

in that kitchen that felt like home
full of turks, italians and us
with laughter, good food and beverage
with warmth, light and love
i caught myself getting caught sometimes
like in a spiderweb
thin, filigran
so fragil
yet so sticky and so powerful
memories, details that you should have never let me know
and it hurts and it shows
but then i can let go

and when she says, but it´s over now, no? i mean, in your head
i nod
distantly
decline to get into anything
just sketch figures
mysteries untold

and when i get on the net
there is a small hello
and almost no emotional response
on this side of the screen