it´s hard to breathe.
i didn´t expect but certainly hoped for this
just not... this uncertainty.

there is no beginning nor ending to this kiss. your lips pressed against my fingers while i watch pillars of air hosting stars way up at the end of the skies. there is no closing movement of lips or the sound of kiss as we know it. it´s just this: an eternity that burns deep and can never be forgotten.
i look at your hands and they speak of a different lover, of a boy who lives in the body of a man who lives in the confinements and the safety of an institution. artist hands these are and i watch them as they flutter and wing through the evening air as you speak, like little birds drawing cryptic patterns into the horizons. there are moments of hesitation when our faces are so easily accessable to each other. it takes nothing but one little intent to make these lips meet. your eyes are full of questions but i prefer your shoulder and my hand on your heart and the gaze into the stars.
you leave me with so many riddles that my heart wants to burst into a wild blossoming.

sometimes I miss you more than anyone
just because i know that talking to you would accelerate this process immensely.
because my questions can´t be naked around other people
because i don´t dare to
because with you i always had the courage to just be
how we explored this world
and this life
and how you, like a bigger brother, would generously tell me about the things you had learned way ahead
i am so scared sometimes and i know i don´t have to be
but it would be easier to just call you and ask you and see

maybe it is true what they say
that you are still around
somewhere, in the clouds
or in the trees that whisper with the wind
or maybe in the water - appu!!! - that is caressing my skin
maybe you are inbetween heart folds or souls
i miss you bro
i miss you.

exploration

gefangen in gedanken, verhangen, gequält im verlangen.
es geht nur mit neugierde. dann ruhe. dann exploration.
es geht nur, mit darunter schauen. suchen. grenzen anfassen. angst rauslassen.
wer ist mir mein gegenüber?
wer ist mir die welt?

this room is finally opening up
i want to crawl deeper into it and lick my wounds
broken everything broken
and it is good to be alone.

yellow moon

it´s only a flimsy, a tiny little repercussion of tremors that quickly subside...
I feel disconnected from this heat
no need

My heart cracks and tears start rolling. Like the pouring rain outside, and it escapes my rationality as to why. It´s just a flight. In the worst case you´ll have to pay a little more... Who cares? Little sobs start bubbling up from underneath the wall.

How can such a small incidence make me so weak inside?

The lady at the check-in point is much nicer than the check-in computer. Instead of paying a change-fee now I am on standby for the next flight. She understands the stress of coming late and traffic due to rain in a city in which rain is rare.

- Will I fail myself again? Fail all deadlines, all things I wanted to do? What is that thing in my head that makes me feel so empty and mushy and muddled? I was supposed to be brilliant.
What is it that I truly love?
What have I done with my precious time?
What am I doing with my days?
Where is my tribe?

I don´t know where this fear comes from
How I became so afraid of losing everyone
Never been afraid of being lonely
Now I am becoming I´m most scared of being

Can´t I just gather all pieces and bits and concentrate for once in my lifetime?
 I am not getting the work done I said I was going to do. Where is the solution? Say no to things I don´t love? Or break through that wall?


I don´t know where this fear comes from
This fear from failing
This fear from letting everyone and myself 
down


It´s growing deep into my soul, making me paralyzed and cold
It´s two steps forwards three steps again.

It feels ridiculous to feel so lost and like such a loser when factually I know that I have a family of friends and that I have created beauty and balance, again and again.
It´s not enough it seems. I am dying inside, just now, in this moment, it seems.

I´ll turn my face against it I won´t run
Courage and belief are my redeems
No man can rescue me it seems.
Because if I don´t follow my heart this time
I´m gonna forget what this life is all about
I´m gonna take that path I´m going in on my own
I´m gonna take that fear and wear it like a crown

it´s funny how in my inward struggles i tend to come to a point in which i look outward and feel this urge to kick into action on a worldly level. is it running away? i feel tired from my own struggles. it feels more right and justifiable to spend time involved with the outer struggles of human and non-human life.
i know that it doesn´t have to be a contradiction.
concentration
dedication.

oh when i hear these songs, i think of you veronica.

there is something about not knowing what the other is going through, that constitutes real drift sand. your thoughts are the sand the undercurrent fears and hopes and trembles are the drift. you feel as if you want to fly away and just drink from the well of forgetting but really you hope for your manifest destiny. unfolding leaves. endless dreams. breathing, breathing, breathe!
nothing will ever be the same again. such is the nature of everything. essentially we remain the same, but the wheel turns and the winds blow and ever new aspects of ourselves show, are revealed, concealed - i long for these lips to be kissed and worshipped and covered with your warmth and care. but i don´t know, i don´t know, i don´t know if they still will be there when i return, if i will still be there, or lost somewhere in the maze of my wondering and search for healing.
i really want to open up like a flower in spring time. let those old leafs of fear drop and nourish the ground. i can´t wait to rise up and use those wings. and once i fly i will know that the drifting sands are nothing but a mirage and the truth will be my way.

the dim hopes revolving around mystical matters are nothing but the shallow peel bound to wither and die as soon as it comes off. this island is magical. i wake from the birds in the early morning hours to a silver white flag dancing in the wind. it is eerily quiet in terms of civilization made noise, i can hear myself breathing.

the volcanic stones ashes speak in the womb of this earth: of olden times, of wrath and love.

lush is the valley.

i am not healed yet.

like water slowly trickeling through cracks in the ceiling, finding its way down to the shore.
I am awakening.
not everything goes the way i wish it would
but: i am here
first things first
and breathing

get a grip

so i write again and ask you if you can help me. but you have so many excuses and in the end you are too busy and you are sorry and thank me for the consideration. i say: it´s all good and may God bless and keep you always. and I feel: I will never see you again.

I am running down on the sand along the beach towards the Pier. The sun is shining on my bare back and I see the mountains carry their secrets and burdens solemnly. I know: I will never see you again and in a way that makes me feel calm and peaceful. It was our time, a long time ago, and now it has gone. We have trespassed into new eons and universes. We will never meet again.

And I remember how I told you once about that song we sang in school and how i was secretly worried that this would become true for us one day as well:

O ye'll tak' the high road, and Ah'll tak' the low (road)

And Ah'll be in Scotlan' afore ye

Fir me an' my true love will ne-er meet again

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.

 

 

And I think it has come to pass and I know it is good.

 

i want to destroy things. sometimes i start with myself.

i love the silence. i love the fucking silence.

there is no reason to be so wasteful with my time. no reason. but i am in the waiting you know. not in the now. so very rarely only so. i am talking way too much. i am puking words. i hate your fucking words. i hate your guts. i hate to puke. i hate... well, nothing really.
juggling nothingness in my right hand while i flip you off with the left hand: i wish i was a bitch.
i wish i was: meaner. you are mean. what do you mean? is that meaningful?

i discover somewhere in my mind a room: you are in it! with someone else. that´s so intriguing. i can´t go there. but i am so intrigued that i know you are in there. that i just know it.

i think i should go dancing now.

and i am not sure if i like niceness at all.

at all

repost from a long time ago

my inner child is coffee

just hit things!

some people are born again, like not only once or twice but really 8 times in a row!
it's not like i want to make fun of them!
but my aunt lived on the streets for about 20 years!
and my grand father was a nazi!
he beat her up once so hard, she was unconscious!
she had to publicly apologize and take back what she said about him in an interview that was taken as a contribution to the documentary and book that was published in Germany about my ex-terrorist uncle!
he is the one of the only ones who got rehabilitated into society. or is that re-integrated? i don't know. he is a good example!
what nobody knows is, that he chews marihuana and robs the worldbank in his mind! it's the last project he has to do to save the world from poverty! he is maybe schizophrenic, maybe it's self therapeutic, who knows! i mean, with marihuana a lot of things seem to be possible!
my other grandfather was an idealist! he died on his way to the outhouse at the age of 85 somewhere in Alaska!
he slipped on the ice that covered the path to the outhouse. it was dark and night and winter. he cuaght a lung infection.
he died in the the hospital and allegedly the last words he uttered were 'just love each other' and 'sophie goes to my second daughter'
his second daughter is my mother and sophie is an old horse.
she got fucked . wait, she got let me look this up, so this old mare was covered by a blind beat up stallion who was with her just for one afternoon. i tell you! a real stallion's penis finds it's way in the dark! it's a truly one eyed monster, in the very sense of the word.
and their offspring was fittingly called 'Miracle' and my aunt, who had a house near the cliffs behind the forest and who walked around naked all day, letting the sesam oil penetrate her skin to make it close to perfect, she showed me a song by Whitney Houston that was called 'Miracle'. She took care of the horses, until her close to perfect self-sufficient loghouse burnt down.
she is part of the flying meditators! a millionaire pays a bunch of TM people every month money (one million every month distributed fairly) to meditate (and hover in the air) for certain philanthropic issues!
another aunt moved to England, leaving the house that my Nazi Grandfather left her, behind. she is taken off the papers now! damnit!
one of my sisters is a scam queen!
the other is in Africa and believes that this family 'adopted' her because she is herself not because of her connections!
it could be true!
oh it better should!
another aunt is a Corporal in the US Army! Her daughter studies at Harvard!
I am a Nanny!


and sometimes I feel I need a dick so you can all suck it

and swallow

ps wouldn't it be nice sometimes to be reborn? with another name, that is

it´s not so much the defiance of stereotypes and the ensuing realms of tenderness speaking to my skin in secrecy, making every cell burst like Japanese cherry blossoms in spring. no, it was much more that moment when your words and eyes told a story of transformation and continuation, of your dealing with your dad´s death, which burst my shell into a thousand pieces: waterfall. because: i saw him dancing. i could feel him dancing. like in that painting. i could feel he was there. i was never alone. and as i was sitting under that ridiculous flower bouquet at the bar smoking your healthy cigarettes, i finally started raining from my eyes. unstoppable. desert rain.

this is a brutal collision between fantasy and reality. sometimes i think i have been like this already as a child. your eyes scrutinizing and gauging: you understand. sometimes paths diverge but then they merge again and i feel safe in the space you stake out for me. when you stake it out for me. sometimes i fall apart, my mind takes a life of its own and i have to submerge and recreate the situation: you understand. your gaze is haunting my waking memories. the way you carefully pronounced these words, giving your insights shape and form. do you hear me? or are you caught entirely in your web of sensations? sometimes we break through and there we are, flaming into the sky.

now the words tumble out of my fingers, leaking from my shattered brain

do i regret? they will never come back. transformed and lost in translation.
lonely we are, wandering across space and time unaware of the circles most of the time
you better be truthfully at peace with your loneliness my friend
you better don´t splinter and crack under the pressure of new encounter
everything is fleeting and everything: always, already here.