I am trapped inside a garden. The roses have withered and died, yet the thorns still prick me. I still bend the twigs into a whip and then they hit me. The thoughts. All the institutionalized patterns of guilt, humility and hubris. Weird cocktail? That may be, but it’s laced with so much sugar it […]Read more "(Over-)thinking is lethal"
Objects are closer than they appear. A rearview mirror is a funny thing. Blinding when the sunlight hits the glass just so. A shadow of what you have left behind and a warning of what is yet to come, also. The angle depends on your setting. Your setting depends on your general situation. As does […]Read more "Rearview"
Why do I wear my heart on my sleeve for daws to peck at, you ask? Well, there’s no room in my chest, for there is the crows’ nest. To feed the young ones, how about nerves and and the occasional tendon? My eyes are so glassy, they’d be a window to – yes, what? […]Read more "Macabre"
Macht und Unterwerfung, Rechts und Links, Schwarz und Weiß, Oben und Unten. Ich: irgendwo dazwischen. Die Blätter der Birke vor meinem Balkon rascheln im Winde, sie lassen sich einfach tragen. Die Äste halten den Wind aus, weil sie sich verbiegen können, nicht rigide versuchen um jeden Preis am gleichen Platz zu bleiben. So baut man […]Read more "Weiß"
I had a million reasons to feel down. I had a million reasons to want to drown. But then there was that one reason to resurface and breathe air. You were standing there! I can’t take my mind off you. Try as I may, nothing can keep me from my hands drawing your silhouette. I […]Read more "I draw your silhouette"
I saw her standing there. Where? In front of the library. A packet of Marlboro Gold in her hand. She was struggling to get the plastic off. Did somebody help her? Is it really help if you enable a person to smoke? But yes, a tall man in his late 20’s with curly brown hair […]Read more "Mundane things"
I’ve read somewhere that the Japanese fix bowls with gold, resulting in the imperfection being seen as a unique part of the charm and history of the object. I find this quite the beautiful sentiment. Yet it is one which I am incapable of entertaining as pertains to myself. Long sleepless nights have etched away […]Read more "Gold"