The Three Ts

1)

Talk – 

is the rustling leaves in the soft wind,

in the whisper of sheets in the nooks of blue

is the nightly cricket’s song for fireflies,

numb

is a hotel room I have no memory of

is a layer of discarded skin and dust

is a patched-up-river of cut movement

is my daydream sewed together into

something comprehensible and real

more genuine and true than the actual day

in times like these

I see my world in a different light

by the flash of a blade’s bright

new eyes to look at my old bruises’n scars

assembled in new constellations and stars

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

 

Many Names

The Hunt rises, shy at first, she flashes a smile

bright and milky above the star light’s exile

shapes grow solid, fog turns to trees and hills

Isn’t this how the world gets its thrills?

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 –

I dare not look

*

I’ve put myself together,

too many times…

*

my jagged edges protect me no more

from examining eyes,

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,