don’t visit my garden

-zero draft-

Several weeks ago I moved to my new apartment.

It was the first of September, and it was an unusually hot day. The first thing I did, was to water my new garden. I went out barefooted, straightened out the hose, and opened the water tap. The yellow grass smelled like hay, and the anthills I wetted dissolved under the water jet. Little white eggs were swept away, swimming towards my patio. The soil under my feet still radiated with the heat of the day.

I went back to the deck and took a cigarette and pulled the lighter out of my pocket. The sound the lighter made, seemed alien. I thought of the dry grass and told myself not to torch the place. I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, especially when exhausted on hot evenings… You have a running hose in the other hand, dumbass! Sometimes I told myself, I deserved a huge face palm, an unbelievably gigantic one. What could I do? Should I start slapping myself? I decided to sigh instead and proceed with the watering.

“So stupid”, I told myself with Paul’s voice. Paul’s voice.

That was the only thing left; the only thing he left me with… It remained the only thing that had found its way under my skin. His voice nested in my head, and told me things he used to say to me, used to whisper. It teased me, snorted and laughed at me… I nearly felt his fingertips on my scalp to ruffle my hair. It was very convincing.

No.

I was convincing, I corrected myself instantly.

I was convincing myself, that he liked to be with me. And that he would have stayed with me, that his parents made him go back and marry that woman.

My reflection in the window was clear, and lonely. Above me, the sky turned slowly violett with orange on the western edge. No wind, no stars. Yet, I sighed smoke escaping through my nostrils.

For a moment, I saw stars I seemed to exhale with the smoke. I stared at the window, observing the movements of my own reflection. Nothing unusual.  Was I so exhausted, that I was seeing things? Obviously.

How strange… My watch showed 7:30 pm.

I loved evenings. I loved gardens. To be accurate, it was why I took this place. The garden.

I loved Paul.

Between my toes, the yellow grass flossed among the attacking ants. It burned somewhat. The violet faded to a blue-black. It burned under my skin, in my lungs and head. My eyes kept stinging. Smoke got into them. Burning… Stupid…

The smoke corroded its way to my bones, blurring my vision, blackening my skin from the fingertips and nails. My chest felt tied up, so tightly, that I couldn’t breathe. Something moved. Suffocating. It jumped, and spun and jerked deep inside. Felt like crumpling me up from the inside. It kicked. I tried to cough it up. It felt like ants crawling inside of my airways.

Stupid! Why was it so hard to breathe?

The something hammered on my ribcage. Breathe, dumbass! Crushing me from the inside. It banged against my thorax, it threw itself against my lungs. So desperate to get out. Smoke billowed out of my mouth. Ash and a tiny star fell to the ground. It rolled around in the wet yellow grass. An ant crawled in the hollow of my right knee. Above me the sky was black.

No moon. I stood in a puddle and my feet felt like ice. The star still rolled around in little circles like a too big marble. It glowed. Funny. Huh… I let the hose fall down.

Something dripped down, something warm. The tip of my fingers went dark, wet and warm.  Nosebleed, huh… I threw my stub into the puddle, it fizzled out.

The little gleaming star in the marble was still there. It looked so natural, as if it always had been there, between drowned ants and brown grass. Stupid…

It was my own voice that echoed in my head. I remembered, I said it to Paul. I… I spat it to his feet.

It was a really cold day last November, and it just started snowing. He stood stiffly by that opened living room window expectantly, or angrily. I couldn’t read his facial expression, maybe I didn’t wanted to. His eyes glowed with… anger, or fear.

“I jump, if you go!” His words slithered across the carpet and the snowflakes.

“If you go now, we’ll meet downstairs. Look at me now, and remember my face, cause in one minute its going to be pulp.”

Stupid.

That November day I passed my last examen. I could call myself a doctor. He hated me for it.

“If you leave me, I’ll jump.”

I hit him. And went.

I slammed the door behind me, as hard as I could, so I wouldn’t hear, if he really did it. Stupid! On floor level I held my breath and peaked around the corner. Nothing on the pavement. It snowed. A car was passing by.

As I looked up the house front, all windows were closed. Stupid.

I told you, I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. I believed a coward.

Between my naked cold feet a glowing marble was lying in a puddle.

her wonderland

She was waterbound

The mistress of mist ‘n clouds

ripping on the clock

tick tock in her wonderland

just imagine burning eyes ‘n lips

Hey lil’ rugged woman

one of a kind

just imagine us strangers

carrying on without a clue

my pocket watch speeding on

every time I look

lost between flowers

lil’ rugged woman

stolen by her silent world

but you’re not listening

kissing lips, she slips away

but you’re not interested

thoughts on shuffle

IMG_3447There are places, which make me stop and think for a while. 

I’ll be more precise.

The feeling they give me, makes me stop. Suddenly I have not enough breath in my lungs and my feet stretch to touch the core of the planet. A weird kind of buzzing fills the space between my ears…

I’ve been here before, haven’t I?

And then I’m empty. It is some kind of blankness. A cold sensation in my stomach. I start to doubt that I’m hermetically locked into my skin. For a moment I’m sure there is a hole somewhere. Something ripped through me, and I didn’t notice. I’m leaking. Or maybe the world is seeping into me. I know it will squeeze me into my every pore, into every wrinkle of my being, pushing me to the outer rim of what uses to me be…

Movement stops.

I fall.

At least, I think it is some kind of falling sensation. A random plummeting to the ground. Downward sucking notion, but without the wet kissing thud at the end. Without hitting any surfaces, without the crashing and breaking, without the impact… Just falling. 

In those moment – I have hope. Hope to find my purpose, my place in the world I inhabit. The hunch I need to grasp the meaning behind all this…being-human thing. It is almost a fully formed thought, a nearly recognized feeling.

I have been here before, haven’t I? 

Isn’t it ironic? I can’t seem to realize it…

by night

I’ve always been afraid of the dark.

My whole life I was scared when the lights went out. When the day dissolved into the night, I crawled, as fast as I could, under my blankets, leaving my reading lamp on. Often the whole night.

But things change…

There is no reading lamp – not anymore. No blankets. I sit in my chair, smoke and wait for the dusk to come. The grayness descends so slowly, carefully, not to scare anyone away.

Emerging from the business of midday, from the productivity others use to care for, the twilight spawns. Slowly unfolding, growing… As if breaking up the surface of  reality, the fuzziness within and around things reveals itself.

In those moments I feel my heart beating stronger, louder, faster… As if it would  respond to a call, I did not hear in the first place. Ill-defines movements under a dust layer. Left alone, for so many centuries. Left to feel despair, to feel quilt, to feel … myself, my flaws.

I felt the wet splosh on the back of my head. A tomato – I hope. The juice ran down my neck. My palm was red, and warm with the liquid.

„Think fast!“

Something hit me hard, smashed into my jaw. Dizziness washed over me, like a thick snow blanket over Moscow in February. Fuck. I held my ears, to stop it. Felt like a whirligig in my skull. Dammit.

The truck keeps moving forward. I’m gonna descend here so ungracefully… I’m gonna be an absolute joke, the only guy who gets knocked out by a tomato. Wait… Or was that a bottle? Who threw that fucking bottle at me?

food for fire

Somewhere between now and fifteen years ago, I lost my fire.

I didn’t even notice… It is one of those things, which disappear without traces.

Fifteen years ago, I was stubborn and defiant. Resilient to the hostile impulses from outside. Resilient to everything. I clung to life and my goals, with teeth and claws. I was desperate. I showed everyone what I was capable of, when they laughed at me. It seemed, I had important goals to reach. 

But nowadays…

I’m older. And tired. The goals faded, their importance vanished. I do not cling anymore. Today exhaustion rests on my eyelids, my back. It is the dust on my shoulders, the weakness of my hands… Still I’m desperate. Silently thrusting my claws into the fabric of my dreams, ripping them apart. I sleep a lot, than I can’t sleep a bit. Something tells me, that I should be angry… 

One thing changed in those fifteen year. There is no one  left to laugh at me now… No one to compare myself too… I’m alone now. Isolated  from hostility and contempt. 

Is this why I rip myself apart? 

Is the missing other component the friction to light a spark?

Why can’t I find my own motor? Why do I need others?

Why is there no strength left in me, only the stiffness of my joints? The rigidity of my mind, the rigidity of my body. I’m slowly turning into stone without that fire.

What should I do?