March 19, 2009 at 7:48 pm (poem)

cold
pressing in from outside
taunts me relentlessly
biting with satisfaction
penetrates
all the extra skins I got
I put around me
keep up for everything to meet
except for you
the one solely touching
my real skin

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March 4, 2009 at 6:55 pm (music)

signs of spring

purposeful down the steps
deep breaths for the tight chest
nightfall takes its time
flying creatures greet
plants reach out for life
signs of spring

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March 3, 2009 at 7:09 pm (poem)

Wusch, begraben
Sehnsucht zu gehen
Wärme zwischen den Wänden
zu Hause sein
was ist hier
wo ist es sonst
Zukunft als Streckbank
Kälte als Decke
einsam.

—-

an oppression
with hands tied and face down
just visible
as shadows under my eyes
nightly visits
silent chaos
hands clenched
wings restricted
behind inner walls.

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March 2, 2009 at 6:23 pm (poem)

it’s good that a face
is not like glass
that cracks and marks and holes
become memories
stored, saved, forgotten and buried

it’s bad that a face
is not like glass
broken it would serve as a warning
showing that some things
will remain

it’s good that life
is not like a poem
always more complex
more bitter, more happy
darker and brighter
with all the shades of grey.
history shall remain in the past
and a cut on a cracked face of glass
is unfortunate but no huge deal
realize there’s cracks
and then go on
because the sun is up today.

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