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They're always so quick to judge

Half an hour later we got on. A smell of mud in the back of the throat. A smiling woman in front of me. And an eerie face on the other side. Sudden hint of soap on my tongue. The smiling woman wasn't really smiling. Her expression was stuck. Dirty hands, heavy hands. I only hurt with my hands.
Cramming my mouth with mud,

I'm preparing myself for the month of the cracked.

Fanfare for the common man

Nothing makes me alive, you say.
I've left my life.

I can hear your heart
beat

I can hear your heartbeat

I will thank the rest, thank the others;
that's how you leave your life.

That's how (I suppose)
I'm leaving mine
for yours

-the great fanfaron
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Neugeborene Bekanntschaft

Alles ist Lärm.
Die Ruhe die wir lieben
in der wir leben
ist der Lärm der anderen


Worte, worte
Wir verstehen uns.
Kein Wunder!

Angst

I bash the wall and the wall stays the same. I bash the wall and my hands bruise.
All I am is now!
I resent at things set and accept things changeable
I cannot come to agreements
they're out of reach.
My hands slap, strangle, rise, move, drop, rise, strangle, hit
My hands slap, strangle, rise, move, drop, rise, strangle, coy
I create and recreate
and never let you speak and never listen and never understand and never unwind
I jerk off in your living room.

So you think you can stop me and spit in my eyes?

Der Morast

Du fällst in ihm
so herzig
daß es als ob du immer dort warst fühlt.
Alles wird dunkler und dir ist es kalt
Momente vor deiner Ohnmacht. Und Verlust.
Dann guckst du an deine Tage von unter
dich egal überzubrücken.
So schöne Farben, so großartige Worte
geh aus! steig auf! du willst.
Aber der Morast saugt dich in.


Sleeping through the endtimes



Goodnight, he said. Soon we'll set.
And he drove straight to the morning mist.

Some of these days, you'll miss me honey

Τώρα δε σκέφτομαι πια για κανένα, μήτε νοιάζομαι πια ν'αναζητώ τις λέξεις. Κάτι κυλάει μέσα μου, λιγότερο ή πιότερο γρήγορα, δεν προσκολλιέμαι σε τίποτα, αφήνομαι έτσι. Τον περισσότερο καιρό, με το να μη προσηλώνομαι στις λέξεις, οι σκέψεις μου γίνονται ομίχλες.

J. P. S.