Kategorie: réverbère
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is your heresy fake
in her blissful entirety I despised her, yet my love for who I was when the cramps had stopped prevailed a rogue supplement I must not speak of bad, rude spine at the root of it all I am that scythe I am that scorn the livid sheet near the stove remains: my virginity was…
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out of sugar
I am invited to stand guard at the edge of the party and I sip the languid clarity / Anubis, I fall for no one, but hard when I’m at home I touch everything in my kitchen, I am iron, and soothed. It is not my language, and I can only not try to connect…
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Die alten weißen Frauen der Kultur
Die alten weißen Frauen der Kultur hassen Männer, sind aber mit welchen verheiratet; diese sind nicht unbedingt weiß, aber immer Patriarchen mit feministischem Anstrich. Der Ehemann der alten weißen Frau der Kultur ist ein großer Emanzipator, er unterstützt seine Frau und betont bei jeder Gelegenheit ihre Unabhängigkeit und sein Sexismus ist so subtil, dass Außenstehende…
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The myth of love, or: Peter Pan on the dole
Merry Christmas, you’re an alcoholic. brag about it, after flirting with all of the female neighbours next door while praising me at the same time you leaned so heavily on me, I half carried you home, brought you to bed, undressed your drunk body and put you in your PJs does that sound like a…
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the damp church of FINALLY
beg me not. I’ll hit you out of the blue. I do like submissive boys, those frail-wristed twenty-somethings I can pin down with just one hand, papercut-thin and full of HELPLESS moans parting their lips, addictive desperation & weakness, letting me touch them wherever I, letting me loose, please, and corrupt the masculine, I would…
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On the other hand
I’ve been thinking of you with my hands, I– ‘ve been thinking so hard I nudged the lower lip of daylight, had no shame when it joined me soft pressure of shadows on skin and my hands with which I did more than imagine you in places I want you to know deeply I want…
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gleichzeitig sein
gigantisches, gewaltiges im-Stich-Gelassen-Sein immer weiter als allein: Himmel, wie kann man hellgrau und gleichzeitig sein? zersprungen, wie kann man gleichzeitig sein? Antworte, jemand, antworte, jetzt. Das Glas nur in Scheiben, hat nichts geholfen. Wie die Fenster gegen Leere: aussichtslos zugleich.
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gnash scoff rattle
der schöne Junge hat mein Herz versaut schiebt es zwischen meinen Lippen hinauf bis an die rechte Stelle ich atme beschwerlich, rühme mich meiner Verletzungen, ich armer Kerl bebe von den Rippen bis zum Venushügel meine Schultern sind schwerer als ich weil jeder weiß was ich sein kann, schleppe ich meine Brust mit mir herum,…
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rough lore
in a thicket of insurmountable haze I am set apart from the funeral taking place around me, relief adds to my face another invisibility – quietly I summarize demons. did any woman ever consciously think: I’d like to be like this, and then grow into features, feminine features, that resembled everything ever offered by the sea?…
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from the fingertip gardens
when I was young I learned to be scared of women, couldn’t trust one another, caution of a surgeon’s glove, and masked I never told anyone that we kissed once, a Kleenex between our mouths not because we were both girls (I was the boy anyway, always the boy) but because we thought that was…
Die gelbe Tapete 