Kategorie: Autor:innen
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guestlist
there is a book I do not want to read, but have to, and another one I need to write, but can’t feeling bad is always an option, but instead of crying, I could read poetry to you you’re so much more in charge of your life than I am two years ago in front…
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xoxo
ich sollte schreiben, ich sollte irgendetwas schreiben ich sollte wissen was 1 elegie ist, ich sollte wissen, wie man 1 klagelied schreibt, ich sollte 1 hexameter und 1 pentameter abwecheselnd schreiben oder so J schreibt– u – u u – / u – u – u u – u– u – u u – /…
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schwarmbeben
ich bekomme jeden tag 5 push-nachrichten zum thema erdbeben, habe einmal nach santorin gegoogled und jetzt weiß ich alles zu vulkanen, schwarmbeben und den phlegräischen feldern, aber ich weiß immer noch nicht, wie ich mit meiner erdrückenden traurigkeit umgehen soll würde gerne eine nacht ganz alleine im castel dell’ovo übernachten, den geist von vergil treffen…
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Crysis
& ich will den Tag einatmenund nie wieder nur einen Teil davon verschwendenGegenwart verstehe ich nur mehr als Elegieverstehst du, mich durchsickern lassenbis in jede deiner viel zu großen Porenich will dich als Ozean mich auflösen darinin deinen Zwischenhäutenund nicht die fünfte Crysis das Jahroder den Blackflash des Jahrhundertseinmal positiv eskalieren, in alle Richtungendas wäre…
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Leopard Print Skulls
I wish I could see the world in the way I write about it I wish I believed in my description of people I wish I was the person behind the poem I wish you would take off both your necklaces and let me lick you underneath the scarier it gets the fiercer I want…
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this has nothing to do with Runyon Canyon Park
do you wanna know why I never run? I simply don’t feel like it. It’s not that I hate it, the way I hate calling a woman „a lady“ – like the person who lives next door, who talks to her cat at 5 in the morning; by her voice I imagined her having a…
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for a short time, the world was just
fingers must not stop their stubborn work of getting rid of layers – if I am not peeling anything off surfaces, I am not satisfied the white blood of the potato in my fingers’ ridges should remind me of survival, that it might seem worth it for a short time I walk past a demo…
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schreib endlich mit deinesgleichen
pink like a spot of creamy toothpaste this week’s discharge on the paper in my hands in my hands, in my hands – a week ago my thoughts were spun of the same silk each – runny syllable extensions beady threads of prefix, precum ovulation ruckus milky way a pink weak and soft spot on…
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can’t hear you calling, Marian
all I hear is you typing <3 <3 <3 are these the cravings they told us about, is that your naked ass next to the dog in the picture Marian, I am back with a van and a vengeance, driving you out to the sea to destroy your pussy for dinner we were both busy…
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did I say sorry
he’s forcing me to write love poems for him again like he’s forcing everything on me dagger against my throat or cuffing me to a desk with a quill and a bottle of ink over empty pages – I would like to think so would like to imagine my rain- stained clothes and dripping wet…
Die gelbe Tapete 