these good people II
these good people II
another blow
I can’t believe it
how dare you
how can you
when you see us
why can’t you trust
we never did wrong
never disobeyed
always parted in the dark
because you said so
she has always been good
and by other standarts
so have I
why can’t you trust
and leave us alone
accept the change
do you understand
how much all this hurts
can you comprehend
how much it takes
to smile at the table
how can I be friendly
when all you do is build
walls and fences
she’s not your property
and I’m not the enemy
why is it so hard
why does this have to be
again
and again..
overload
(various influences)
welcome in the plaza of glass
where nothing can ever be reached
yet oh so splendid seen.
fall, as the rain begins to sting
sink on the broken knees
slump down like being kicked
and fail to see a thing
because no one is there.
roll over, burn in vellum
scream and drown in ink
clockwork ticking
endless repetition
fixed yet ever changing
another incarnation
willing to bargain for the end
yet the future is deemed
to a written past
roll over, burn in vellum
scream and drown in ink
during history exam..
.. I got really bored.
Ein Gesetz
und noch ein Gesetz
und noch ein Gesetz
und noch ein Gesetz
und noch ein Gesetz
doch hat sich zwischen all den Gesetzen
in diesen Köpfen
irgendetwas festgesetz?
—–
Ein kleines Rad
dreht ein anderes Rad
und noch ein Rad
dreht das nächste Rad
und du drehst dich mit
doch lächelst und sagt
was für ein Glück
ich bin kein Rad.
a visit from the past
24.04.06
isolated
darkness in my mind
throughs dragged down
where’s the point-stage
confusedalone, but in a
flock of friends
isolated
—-
interesting what lies between unrelated stuff from schooldays. this was.. earlier than most stuff.
thoughts occuring
wishes forming
fragments of imagination
slowly biting
always twisting
never leaving
never breaking
silence
between the two
what remains unsaid
is it necessary
or harmful
or nothing at all
anyone here without a trail
of glass behind the eyes
salty and only recently
ceased to be a liquid?
we talk to bricks
we stick in fences
rattle at the bars
but it all comes down to us
and the silence
we can’t break.
different eyes
things do not make sense
he doesn’t look at me
not sure what’s wrong
might be just attention whoring
might be just a phantom disease
nothing wrong with all the blood
he doesn’t look at me
let things be alright
don’t want to see
he doesn’t even look at me.
dissociation
lack of sensation
the feeling of not being
left alone and always seeing
familiar faces on the eyelid screen
inner TV giving scene
lover, friend it surely has to be
a joke that I am cut away
from both and that I’m just repeating
things I do not even need to say.
