I make eggs in the morning. I listen to this music. I think of my love and admiration for S.

Then I sit down and eat my eggs. The world is grey outside. And a wave crushes over me. A crying that comes over me and I just let it come. It feels like this is my last meal it feels as if death is inevitable. A strange sensation. What a strange feeling that is. Maybe I have to go through this one more time. Fully aware. I am so confused. I really don´t know. I was so scared of dying these last past weeks. As if it was bound to happen. And of course it is bound to happen, at some point. But the idea of it happening soon is a completely different mind game. Why is this happening? I am afraid that I am merely over dramatizing things. Or not getting at the root of something. Or maybe I am just plain scared and that´s okay. Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just fear. I wonder what Max and Uli must have gone through.

it´s bitter sweet pity - to feel the stir of genuinity beneath it all. as if there is something waiting. and it´s been waiting for so long. it´s been waiting because you took other roads, deluded yourself and missed your twenties.
the only salvation lies in the consoling thought, that maybe perhaps all these experiences will be worth something one day. maybe i can melt them one day into some grande finale. or some grande something. or nothing. who cares.
it is the point beyond doubts. when doubts occur but do not matter in the same way because you are finding your way down the stairs in the dark, carefully putting one foot after the other, trembling and daring.
that´s the way to go.
to follow your heart.

so i go out, out, out, something is a'callin me. i meander from place to person to place to phone to beer and smokes. i find, on my way out, a person to talk to, another one to fight off. gazes thrown into the room like fragile glass bulbs crashing on the floor.
and then i come home. i take the night bus. i take the night bus to the hotel. i open the book and i read. i read of her loss. how her child was kidnapped and killed. i read about her reasons of publishing her diary and the correspondence relating to the case. and as i read i calm down. i come to the place that was calling in the first place. a strange clarity fills my mind and my heart.
i bow to you anne lindbergh. these are the little seedlings of truth you were hoping would reach hearts to shine a light in the dark.
it is quiet. it is quiet now here. it is okay to be quiet.
it is okay.

sometimes i get the feeling that i have been running, even though there are moments and moments of peace. but sometimes i get the feeling that i have been running. restlessly. away and back and fro. to touch upon this fragile deep memory. to get back in touch with you. to get back in touch with me. to truly feel that what has happened and who i have become now.

maybe it isn´t awkward to go back to this place. maybe it is okay. maybe it is the only saving grace i have to pick up myself where i have let off.

oh god. mazzy star. drawing me into a time vortex that spits me out somewhere on Sunset Blvd in the Holiday Inn (or something like that). The cockroaches on the street, big like lampposts. The dim lights and the Pay4Less in which I hurried barefoot to dry my tears and my fears. Walking around the building multiple times talking to a good friend far away who on the other side of this time vortex has left his place and vanished into obscurity.
who would understand?

and such is it. music that heals. music that breaks walls made of glass separating decades. broken glass. sharp. sharp enough to tear a hole into melancholy blue.
see, maybe it isn´t even that i really care or dare call this feeling love. i once spelled these four letters with awe. they have spilled and left a pool of arbitrary feelings - and an abyss filled with lusting snakes that want to rip me apart and tell me that i am not good enough. it is even pathetic when i write it. because i know it is not true. but what do they care for truth? all they care for is fodder to make them grow and lust more: more guilt! more drama! more this! more that.

growing up has become a lot easier and a lot harder in the same time. things that have taken me years take me only days now. but the canyons have grown wider and the abyss much deeper and the bells keep ringing the name of love.

it´s not all that bad

now that i look back

i can feel the magic

i can sense the spectacularity of it all

and the dancing feet

oh what a great summer

oh what a great summer to be had

the bad news are, that the more I READ about social projects (worldwide) the more I grow impatient and annoyed by that scene. it´s quite the disappointment in many ways, because indeed, the question remains where my passion has gone regarding these issues.

i reckon that it is a simple equation - the more i read the less i am inspired and the more i actually DO the more passion i will feel.

i guess there is no way around doing then. i hope it doesn´t involve so much reading.

not everything is okay
but some things are
i try to put my feet on this ground
so many things that call for fixing
i hope i will manage
i hope i will cope
i hope i can make this
a good road.

selten hat mich jemand so gesehen wie du es beschrieben hast
deine worte trafen genau ins herz
manchmal wünschte ich, dir könnte ich so begegnen
genau so tief

dann sind es aber doch nur vorboten von möglichkeiten die verborgen sind
bis sich jemand verdammt noch mal die mühe macht, sie zu sehen

ich vermisse jemand anderen
aber ich denke an dich
pako ich denke an dich.

sinking

Ich sinke. Sinke. Sinke.
In meiner Brust flattert es und ich verberge.
Verberge deine Augen und dein Lächeln um sie nicht mehr zu sehen.
Darf es nicht sein?
Ich spreche mit ihr und bin verwirrt über die Gründe meines Handelns und Seins.
Den Berg erklimmen wollte ich, doch jetzt sinke ich nur hinein.
Tiefer und Tiefer, Tropfsteinhöhlen, Unterirdische Seen.
Die Kälte lässt mich schrumpfen
Ich bin schon ganz klein.

rage unknown

dear dad

it is not okay that you weren´t there. even when you were there it was rare that you actually were there.
where were wear ware
now it is okay. now I understand. now I can muster the strength.
then it was not okay. the ways that I developed to cope have become patterns. now I am only mad at the patterns. at myself. not at you. I missed the moment to be mad at you. I missed the opportunity to muster all my rage and express it. from me to you.
but rage demands direction. that is why it went somewhere. there was no where so it went to the only one available: towards myself.

dear dad.

it was not okay that you were sick. dealing with pain instead of dealing with me. i am small. i am dependent. i am dependent on you. i had to get sick for you to be there.
first i get sad. then i get pouty. then i resignate. rage never appears. not in my memory anyways.

dear dad,

just three days ago someone led me to this place of rage. i was barely able to touch upon it. i was fucking scared out of my mind. when i felt it, it wasn´t pure. it was mixed with despair and grief and abysmal sobbing. i wanted to rip her face off like a mask. or smash her against the wall. roar in anger like a dragon threatening to destroy her. gobble her up. rip her head off the shoulders and make her appear. make her present. make her mine. make her stay there. make her come to me. make her a real person.

the voices saying it wasn´t all that bad are my rage´s biggest enemies. they handcuff, silence, gag and mask my rage. pull a veil across it and muffle it. suffocate it.
my rage is like a dangerous animal that is said not to exist. it eats my cells and mutes my life force. and because i don´t know it i can´t use it. it uses me.

noch wichtiger, als wer du mir sein kannst, sein wirst oder bist, ist die frage wer ich mir selber sein kann, sein werde, bin, war.
noch wichtiger, als wie tief deine küsse gehen, wie weit du meinen seelengrund berührst oder ihn jemals sehen wirst oder gesehen hast, ist die frage, ob ich mich selber berühren kann so tief.
die träume, wie sie in mir schlummern. wie sie geduldig schlummern. willst du sie nicht? willst du sie nicht spüren? sie werden lassen? dir zeigen lassen, wie und wer du bist und wer du wirst?

noch wichtiger als deine zuneigung, deine anerkennung und dein sehen ist mein sehen, meine zuneigung, meine anerkennung.

warte nicht.

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.