LIKE A SUNLESS GARDEN WHEN THE FLOWERS ARE DEAD.

     LET´S PRETEND WE´RE LOST.

it
seems
that
I´m
just
telling
you
what
I
think
you
want
to
hear-

"A love like that was a serious illness, an illness, from which you never entirely recover."
(charles bukowski)

I don´t mind you under 
my skin. I´ll let the bad 
parts in, the bad parts 
in. Right against the 
wall, take apart your
head, right against the wall.

kiss(kill) me today and tomorrow

CAN
YOU
HEAR
THOSE
EPIPHANIC
REALIZATIONS?

everything is beautiful because everything is dying /
there is hope but not for us

WE ARE MEANT TO FADE.

WE CAN MAKE OUT WITH THE MOON

(header geändert; klarheit braucht ihren platz)

//here is where indigo thunder split a seam in the horizon

and out of the black-and-blue abyss, our bodies tumble down

"woke up this morning; thought, gotta change my life. but i´m like a ship in the sand just waiting for the tide, i´ve got a lot of reasons glad to be alive but always waking up alone just makes me wanna die. woke up this morning, the chirping birds couldn´t modify anything."

()

Remembering
that is
perhaps
the most painful way
of forgetting
and perhaps
the kindest way
of easing
this pain

I think I saw you in my sleep;

I think I smelled your skin the night before.

Maybe
because I am
what I am
but surely
because you are
what you are

my hands are usually cold/


i wish for summer;
i wish for somebody.

like a feathery seahorse

(I wonder about us sometimes - we know we would suffocate)