A dream. A romance. A love. In Words. I think you prefer when the world "together" means not "a million," but just two.

  Poems to Louis


I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.


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The change

And then you know suddenly
that everything changed by the blink of an eye

You feel in that very moment you are losing someone
you always loved and thought you are gonna love forever

But then he is gone and suddenly you don't mind at all
and you can't understand how he ever caused you so much pain

And then there is someone new and you know right from the start
that it all will be the repitition of the repitition and you will exactly feel the same way about him as you felt about all the others

You know exactly that it is not true, was never true and will never be true and it makes you so damn sad because

you suddenly realise that your life and what you think love meant to you is only a silly, childish illusion and you talked yourself into believing it so hard that you finally believed it

And then you feel terrilby ashamed of yourself and so goddamn sad
that you are not far away from

killing yourself!
15.7.06 04:34


Red Wine and Red ...

It's worse tonight.
Was so strong all the time.
Until now.

I allow myself to be weak
because I can't push me to be strong.
I'm not strong. Not now. Not tonight.

Thinking about ending it all the time.
Admire the people who did it.
Feel lost. And not home.

Red wine. Red.
16.7.06 00:44


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