the art of self-taming

I was a stone, hurtling through a shopwindow

I was the motherly impulse in a black widow

 

darkness whispered in my head, about divine justice

crushing ideas to bits, into dry powdery numbness

 

Familiar Edges

inspired by “Jagged” by Jacob Ibrag

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This common language of pain we both speak

you, and all random folk calling me – freak

This liquid misery, metallic and salty in taste

Look into a mirror- that’s sad crystalized to space

Under The Armor

Once, I saw a man standing by a lake,

Hands by his side, dipped in ache.

His alabaster glass skin glowed blue,

confusion and regret, a heart too true,

The Lunatic And The Moon

I submerge in the silvery flood

of the dark whisper in my blood

past’s poison floats to the surface

full in shape, the moon rises too

midst the sclera of midnight blue –

“Observing, my dear! Observing

your fate and redemption…”

 

All those tiny human things

I wished to lose, not to suffer,

not to hunger, nor to feel pain.

I´d give you my love, my hate,

my body, my pain, my thoughts,

my everything, just to be free.

-Free from my humanity.

 

She quietly observes, maybe pondering.

The enormous eye rests on a rooftop,

blinks eventually. Once… Twice…

“As you wish, my love.”

Night’s cold I don’t feel any more

Power surges through my bones

Rises like water over volcanic stones.

 

Wounds on my skin all healed,

my soul´s grim just a bad dream.

Only hunger keeps me company.

I lick my muzzle starvingly,

scratch my ear, with a paw-

„WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

 

But my scream’s just a howl…

 

 

 

almost remembering

 

Fading to a shadow, husk of the man I used to be

the swirling blackness inside me came to agree,

 

your words are the cold gust I flutter in,

struggling towards you, like a banner for sin –

little red riding hood

*

a drowsy little witch, with eyes like the angry sea

dressed in crimson, mouth shaped like a plea

she walked down the road to the black forest

right into its darkest, to a circle of fairy rocks

What’s a heart for?

*

What’s a heart between beats?

Useless pieces of wind-up mechanics

a still lump of  faulty desire,

shaped by struggle,

bad blood

One cold night the full moon’s blaze burns

The children tremble and pray, taking turns

The sky bursts its heartbeat into buzz’n thunder

Black turning into whistling metal, going under

My sweet baby, there’s only blood for your baptize

ready for bed, after the noise and havoc slowly dies

Stay in your cellars, a howling beast is out tonight

It’s something beautiful, deadly and cruelly bright

The night shivers with autumn stars

Highways packed with abandoned cars

Dark and deep silence solidifies into absence

shifting days and nights back into balance

Wishful thinking, being covered in leafs and  mud

Meat and saliva, sweet baby, this is bad blood

Money and Media

Money is one sinister god I used to pray to

Me, the kid with the broken heart and  faulty hue

Struck by the currency of freedom and power,

It’s not my  conscience, but my hands I scour

Poem by my weird grandma

WHERE

(this is a part of an ongoing project, inspired by the dementia of my grandma)

Where were you, when I turned to stone?

when I froze, white and empty to the bone

No angel led me on my path to the throne

Now I’m queen of  pain, so leave me alone

 

Where were you, when I burned to ash?

I couldn’t stop, bleeding out in a flash

An angel led me to my bed in the trash

I called it home, my never healing gash

 

Where were you when I changed my hiccuping heart?

scavenging for happy memories, tearing time apart

A word led my blackened wings to an unwanted start

And the angel turned his back, fearing this part

 

Where were you,  when I had nowhere to turn?

when I survived those I trusted, happy to burn

to light the way into the blue, dashed and stern

how to  drown in midnights, I’m about to learn