like you have now idea, yes, that's how it is, that's the intensity of what I consist of and what I perceive, like the sparrows at Mariensztat, the face of that woman, the nightmares I have and everything I want to be but I'll never become. and I just wish I could stop smiling to make it easier for them to speak, smiling as if I were always sorry, I wish I could hear that deep hoarse voice, I wish it was mine and I wish it spoke my mind, my love, my passion, and then my fear and yearning, too, so, yes, everything that once questioned my right to pursue happiness, now I want to acknowledge it, declare independence and go, yes, feel the movement, because I don't think it can last any longer, it seems to me the time is now, and if it doesn't come, if it can't be, because it is possible that the universe won't have it for me, well, if these ways won't stop squeezing, if it has to be, then I might just give up, because I feel, like I once felt, that it is not for me, so, have the courage, step down, leave. sometimes you can't wait any longer for the universe to happen.

the time to be a ghost

so when I die I'll go to Heaven to live in the world of photography

carnival

rope around my neck blade against my wrist gas into my nostrils 'cause this is love parade

honey

chewing milky words to calm down

border

hands and feet tied with fear and then an outburst of crying and yearning again. monthly blood, too much food, broken sleep and my make-up, which I put on and wash off, and put on, and wash off. tension in my temple. my body. a cramp. and then yearning again. and starting once more with a new paragraph, take a breath and do it, don't look too far 'cause it will make you frightened, only a bit ahead, just not to panic. fever and everything I don't know. lack of help as a fact. and those people, so frightening. so frightening. a feeling that if I wake up once again in the same way, go through the gate once again and get into the tram and then sort those little activities like beans in a bottomless bowl -- I'll explode. yes. I'm off my nut. Mother, come and get me out of here.

loss

great bits of sun and the carpet of snow as I walk through the March city. beautiful emptiness. sadness.