Will

And then I opened my eyes

that had been closed for such a long time

and I took a deep breath

inhaling the whole world

and everything that exists in it

and suddenly my will

didn't want anything anymore.

Because I Can

I will kill you. 

You didn't do anything wrong, I know that. 

But I will kill you, because I can. 

I'm not sure yet, how it'll happen. Maybe a car accident. Maybe a robbery. Maybe suicide? No, that wouldn't make sense. 

Anyway, I'll let the others suffer. All the other characters that have been your companions along this novel. 

They'll attend your funeral and it'll be a dark scene. 

Maybe there will be rain. 

It always rains, when sad things happen in books. 

I'm sorry, but there is no happy end for you.

I am the author and the things is: 

I can do whatever I want. 

Never forget:

I created everything!

Throwing Stones

You run around searching 

for people who throw stones in your way. 

Once they do,

you shout: It's his fault! 

I could have succeeded, 

but he wouldn't let me! 

Pathetic little loser you are.

Warning

Reading your name still hurts me

hearing someone pronounce it

is like a slap in my face,

like the one you gave me. 

Since I've known you

suddenly
your name appears

everywhere

suddenly 

everyone 

has your name.

It's like a hidden warning.

I feel like this is specially for me

to never ever forget

my mistake.

I won't.

Julio

It’s a very cold day in July and his name is Julio. He’s got beautiful greenish- blue eyes and a shy smile. A smile that tells you he is a lost soul in a weird world. What has happened to him? Unjustice? Was this live he was living his fault? Was he living on the street due to mistakes he had committed? Was he a fugitive? A criminal? A murderer? 

I saw a young man walking down the street pulling a shopping cart full of papers and cans. Homeless people collect these things to sell it to recycling factories. Or they sleep on the pieces of cardboard, which gets wet over night and starts to crumble away like the lives of those who are trying to sleep on them.  

Julio was early strolling down the street. Today was the recycling stuff day. In front of every building piles of material lay waiting to be collected from the dustmen. I saw Julio emptying a trash bin, he collected everything he needed, newspapers, cans, plastic bottles. Half of the stuff fell on the floor. I was walking my dog and saw how Julio stopped and cleaned the sidewalk. He put the trash back into the bin and walked away. 

He kept on walking, crossed the street. Under a small tree five cardboard boxes full of things were waiting for Julio. He slowly walked towards it. Suddenly: the noise of the dustcard. Three orange-dressed young men running down the street, shouting orders to each other. Julio bending down to get the cardboard. Three men running around him getting the cardboard boxes and throwing them into the duscart. Julio stops. The dustcart drives away. Julio just stands there empty-handed. He’s not even worth the trash others throw away. He stands there for a while, then he turns around and walks away.

Julio enters my street. I meet him next to a little grocery shop. Hi! He doesn’t react. Oi! Have you eaten already? He looks up. Sad greenish-blue eyes and a smile that could have been a happy smile a while ago, now it’s a rare, wistful one. He shakes his head. Ok, then. Wait for me. Would you care for sandwiches? In a low voice: Yes. Wistful smile looking down. I enter the shop and order. What’s your name? My name? As if for a long time nobody had asked him for his name. Julio. Alright Julio, what do you want to drink?     Hesitantly: whatever you want to give me. Well, there are soft drinks, milk, yogurt, water...When he hears “yogurt” his eyes lighten. Yogurt is great! I buy two big sandwiches and one liter of yogurt, cross the street and hand it to him. He holds the food with his dirty hands (they are pretty small! How old might he be?). Thank you! Holding the food like a precious treasure, Julio on this cold day in July walks away with a wistful smile on his face. 

Überphilosoph

Once in a million years
someone is born
who makes a difference.

Doomed

And then hope was released

and humans were doomed

to everlasting hope 

for something better. 

Britney, or: The day I met John

I

I enter the classroom in the beginning of the new semester. New students looking at me. Kind of tense, eleven strangers inside a classroom, trying to figure out who's cool and who's not. As always there are some older men, lawyers or business man, fever women. I greet everyone, introduce myself and start calling the roll. Patricia. Hi. Nelson. Good evening. So I go on. In the end there is only one name left: John. There is only one person left in the classroom: a woman wearing a short skirt and black boots. Long blonde hair, pink lipstick. 

I read: John? I look around. She stands up: Yes. That's me. 

Silence. 

I am puzzled.  

I look at John and his long blonde hair, short skirt and black boots. 

I don't know what to say. Neither do the others. 

John smiles. 

Well...hi everyone. My name is John, but I'd prefer if you called me Britney, if you don't mind.

The older lady in the backround looks over her glasses: 

Call you what? 

Britney. 

Why the hell Britney? 

Because of my hair. 

Ah, I see. 

John smiles and sits down again. 

Silence.

Alright, welcome everybody! Let's start class. Have you all got your books?

EN VIE, or: The day the battle started

Portia had worked so hard for everything. Studied nonstop to get her degree. She went to gym, to keep her tommy flat and spent hours straightening her hair and waxing her legs. She was determined to succeed, as nobody else in her family had succeeded in anything. Her family was a disaster and she had suffered a lot trying to escape from the mess. Smart and pretty she was engaged to an upper class guy, who was calm and so predictable. With him, nothing could ever go wrong. She knew exactly what he would do next. Everything was fine. Almost.

Portia saw her friend Cailyn and got upset. Her friend was short and not very smart. Not as pretty as she was. Not hardworking and hot. And Cailyn got money and a husband who was fun and smart and gave her expensive jewelry and bought her a huge house. Cailyn's husband loved reading and travelling around and their live just seemed so unbearable perfect! Cailyn's family was impeccable and she never had seen any trouble in live.  Portia liked Cailyn, but her friend had done nothing to deserve this! She got everything and had not done anything to get it! 

Portia suddenly hated her friend. Deep anger and envy consumed her. She could not stop to compare their lives. Portia thought she was so much better and life had given her less than she deserved. She could not bear this unrighteousness!  

And then her tongue became poisonous and her heart became stone. Her smile froze cynically and a dangerous sparkle arose in the corner of her dark brown eyes. 

The battle had begun. 

Cailyn had no idea.  

Spaceless

Some people's ego

is so large

in their bodies

is no space left

for a soul. 

Masterpiece

She had given birth to him.

She fed him. 

Took care of him. 

Encouraged him. 

Gave him the best treatment. 

She was always there when he needed her. 

She made him strong and healthy and felt so proud. 

He was her masterpiece and he knew that very well.

And when he felt he was ready, he killed her.

As long as his creator was alive

he would never be special.

Born Again

There is this man who is born again 

every time he dies,

as cow

as worm

as bird

and he knows he will eternally be born again.

He remembers everything he has lived before

and he knows for sure, this life will end and

he will be reborn as something else,

somewhere else.

The question is:

Does it change anything?

Hi

And then your heart stops

for one second

that feels like eternity

and you feel like running

and running

until the end of the world

and then you would jump

to escape.

You're shaking

and feeling pain

in every cell of your body.

You're melting from the inside

and hardening from the outside. 

And your body just freezes,

so you smile

and say

"hi".

Your Majesty

Curves like 

a charming 

young 

woman

the cello 

stands on 

the ground 

you hold it tight

and touch it gently.

Like a charming young woman

it will not hang around your neck

it will not be enchained like a 

submissive guitar.

It stands on the ground

with its soft curves

and velvet sound.

It sounds like a loving hug

and makes your soul vibrate

and you feel like walking on soft sand underneath 

a dark blue sky. It tastes like melting chocolate 

on your favourite brownie, smooth and powerful. 

It makes you travel in time and 

meet a French King in his beautiful gardens

smelling of purple flowers in spring

with a mild summer breeze touching

the green leaves of a very old tree 

with large branches touching the clouds.

The cello is majestic.

I bow when I hear one.

Mirror

You are my mirror

I look at you

searching myself

but the image is always wrong.

My eyes are too dark

my nose too short.

I try hard to be like the image I see in the mirror

but I never get there.

I'm never good enough.

I'm always wrong.

I can't stop looking at the mirror

and I hate it.

Dame, Bube, König

Wie eine Droge, eine verdammte Droge. Verzweifelt. Er durfte nicht, aber er brauchte es. Mit ist furchtbar, ohne schlimmer. Verdammnis. Es schmerzt. Ein ständiger Kampf gegen sich selbst. Ich will! Ich brauche es! Es wird schon nichts passieren! NEIN! Du darfst nicht! Das ist dein Verderben! Es ist schlecht für dich, wie eine Hexe bezirzt sie dich! Sie ist schuld. Nein, du bist schuld. Du bist schwach! Du bist ein Weichei! Ich will sie haben, alles andere ist mir egal! Na dann, nimm sie dir! Nimm sie dir. Hol dir was du brauchst. Und sieh zu, wie alles, was du hast deswegen auseinander fällt. Alles. Wie ein Kartenhaus. 

Ana. Sie war wie eine Hexe. Sie hatte eine schwarze Katze und war ständig am Kaffee brauen. Vielleicht war es gar kein Kaffee? Vielleicht hatte sie absichtlich begonnen, bei ihm gegenüber zu arbeiten? Vielleicht war es ein Test gewesen und Gustavo hatte nicht bestanden. Er liebte sie nicht. Er liebte es, wie er sich fühlte, wenn er bei ihr war. Aber vielleicht war auch das nicht echt. Was war schon echt? Die Karten lagen zerstreut auf dem Tisch. Dame, Bube, König. Er musste sie neu ordnen. Was jetzt?

Scale

And the shadow always looks bigger than the real thing

and the fear is always so much worse than the danger.

Juliane, or: The day I woke up too early

I was sitting in a train going somewhere. When the train arrived I stood up and walked to the door to get out. It was a very normal situation, like going to work every day.  Before I reached the door, there was a little bed instead of the regular seats, on the left side of the corridor. Inside this bed lay a little girl with long hair and a perfectly combed fringe. Her name was Juliane and I remembered her from my artistic gymnastics classes. Juliane and I used to have the same coach, but she was so much better than me. Why was she lying in a bed inside the waggon?
The other passengers just kept on leaving the waggon (as if there was nothing to wonder about a bed inside a train with a little girl in it) but I halted to speak to Juliane. She was covered with a white blanket and her mother was sitting next to her. Somehow Juliane looked so much younger than I remembered. Her mom told me Juliane was sick and they were heading to a special clinic to release her from her disease. Juliane was so tiny and pale. (She had always been tiny and the others had made fun of her calling her dwarf lady.) 


Her huge eyes looked at me with the fear of a scared baby and disheartenment of someone who had already seen enough. She seemed to shrink while I was looking at her. Juliane and her mom had to get out, she crawled onto me and I held her tight in my arms. She was as light as a feather, as if she could be carried away by the slightest breeze at any moment. We left the waggon and started to walk to the exit of the train station, that seemed to be huge and kind of empty. I don't know why, but I just went with them, holding the scared little girl in my arms. During my conversation with her mom I found out that Juliane wouldn't get treatment to get better. Her disease had no cure. Releasing meant she would get an injection and her short life would find an end. She was only eight years old. I didn't know people did something like that. Juliane seemed pale, but perfectly ok. She asked me: What will happen to me, once I am dead? I could not believe that this sweet little girl should be erased from this planet. I looked at the large clock hanging in the middle of the train station. 2pm. One shot and she would never ever wake up anymore. Like pressing a delete button. In a couple of hours this little girl, who was hugging me, would not exist anymore. And her mom seemed to be sad, but so apathetic. What kind of mother took her child to be killed? Who was the heartless monster who'd inject deadly venom in these tiny blueish veins of hers?  I answered Juliane about heaven and God and energy and how cool it was to be up there. Tears covered her delicate face. She didn't believe anything I said. Neither did I. 


We were getting to the exit. Everything was so wrong! So unjust! This child should be taken home and taken care of. She hadn't done anything wrong. Why the hell did people believe, that "ending the suffering" was a good thing to do? Who had the right to decide who lived and who died? Who sold the venom? Who scheduled the time of her death? Who said it was better this way? I was angry and confused and started to look around. I had to do something! I could taste the salt in Juliane's  bitter crystal tears as I was holding her. Her mom was apathetically following me as if she were delivering a package to the post office. What should I do? Think! Think! There has to be a way out of this! Stop this cruel plan! 

A dog barked.

A dog? I can't see the dog.

What?

I wake up.

No! She’s still there! She’ll die if I don’t take her!

I press my eyes together fiercely. I need to get back to the train station! I need to take Juliane with me. She was in my arms! She doesn’t want to die! 

I can't. I can't go back. It's too late. The dog woke me up.

She’s lost.

I am here. 
She’s there. 

Her mom is taking her to the clinic. 
I still taste the salt of her bitter crystal tears.

Meaning: Heroic, Martyr

Sunshine on his shoulders

smile on his face

vacation!

Sweat on his back

sand under his nails

fun!


Hole on the beach
digging deep
falling in.


Wind and darkness
doing the rest.
Rest in peace.

The Sun

She was in my cousin’s class. Short and shy, as I was. I saw her in the backyard and I knew she had a weird name. After the fourth grade I went to another school in another village, as now I had to attend what they call “Gymnasium”. There, we were classmates. I was sitting next to my best friend Sarah and pretty scared with this bunch of strangers in the classroom. I admired Sarah a lot. We had known each other since we were six. She lived 30m from my house and we spent all afternoons together. Sarah was so outgoing and pretty. I felt like her shadow. She nursed my personality somehow and took me with her to cool places. She talked to everyone and I was always around her. After some time I got used to the new school. Sarah and me had horrible grades in the fifth grade, but didn’t care too much about it. 

After long summer vacation of a very short German summer, I went to sixth grade. When I entered the classroom, Sarah was already sitting at our table. Next to her. Pale and blond, looking like a porcelain doll, she was sitting on my place. My chair. Next to my best friend. How did she get there? Had I missed something? I should have hated her, but I couldn't. She was too friendly. I realised things had changed. I sat next to whomever and spent the whole school year trying to figure out what to do without having Sarah leading me. I did good, actually. 

After a while I made new friends and Sarah was not my sun anymore. I got some other people on my sky now. Some moons and stars. Sarah’s sunshine was not that important anymore. One more year passed and Sarah switched again. She gave up on her and started to hang out with Ann, from the classroom next door. Ann was nice and shy. As all of Sarah’s friends were. Left aside, me and the girl who used to be my rival became friends. Both of us had grown in Sarah’s shadow. Both of us had found our own light. 

And what light she had found! Her laughter was the nicest thing ever and her friendly blueish eyes had the colour of a sunny winter morning. She had not only found her own light, but she had become the sun herself. As if she were covered in shining gold and all others around her were grey. Where she went, things were nice and friendly and fun. She was a magnet. More and more people gathered around her. Her house was always crowded with friends. She was the sun and all the others orbited around her. This short porcelain doll had become the most powerful planet in our galaxy. She has grown up and become a charming young woman. A tough woman. I have moved away. The atlantic ocean separates us, but I can still feel her strength. Like the sun, that has seen dinosaurs die out, kingdoms rise and fall, humans spread around the earth- like the sun- she will never stop shining. 

Rubbing

There was this large window

I could see the whole street from there

the trees and people walking on the sidewalk.

It was kind of boring

same trees

same dogs

same people 

on the street. 

One day I found a stain on the window glass,

in the middle of the large window!

I had no idea how it had gotten there

but it upset me

so much

it destroyed my boring view

I couldn't look at the

same trees

same dogs

same people 

on the street

without focusing on this stain in the middle of everything!

So I spat on it

and rubbed with the leaves of my pullover

until the stain was gone.

Fate

Even if you were God I would gather all daemons to fight you.

Daemons from every Mythology from every corner of the planet

daemons so strong and horrible you have never heard of.

I would call the four elements to the battle.

The wind would blow you around

hitting you on the rocks who would make you crumble into pieces

and  the fire would burn the crumbles who would fall into the sea 

and the deep cold water of the sea would make you drown.

I would mix all poisons of the earth and bathe the rest of you in it.

I would dig the deepest hole

and build the highest tower to throw you down.

And even if you were God, 

there wouldn't be any escape.

Because fate can't be that cruel

and let you live.

Monkshood

So pretty. So intense. This colour! 

Look at that! I can't stop looking at it. 

It's so beautiful. The most adorable flower ever. 

It's called monkshood. 

I love this flower.

So dangerous. So tricky. This venom!

Smell on it! I can't stop wondering.

It's so conflicting. The most dangerous flower in the garden.

It's called monkshood.

I'm afraid of its power.

Plant

There, where fire has consumed everything

and destruction ruled,

where lava drowned every single blade of grass

and despair spread cold smoke,

there, where death came alive and raged.

There, where's nothing left but ashes,

there is the most fertile ground!

Become Stone

A stinky molded cage

overcrowded with stinky moldy people

being treated like stinky rotten shit

surrounded by clean guards smelling cynically.

Fighting for toilet paper

no night of sleep

no place to shit

being eaten alive by moskitos

and sworn to die by other inmates.

Weird tasting food that makes your stomach burn

burn like your soul will burn in hell

for you have done wrong

for you have been bad

for society sent you here to regret!

And you do regret

regret being alive

you wish you were there.

In hell.

This here is so much worse.

And then you decide to become stone.

Not Worth

I know you're sick.

There is no cure.

You'll carry this burden every single day of your life.

You'll be on medication.

You'll be different.

You'll be looking at your watch,

checking the time for your next shot.

I know it makes you sad and upset.

I know it shouldn't be like that.

It's unfair.

It sucks. 

So many healthy people all around.

But you're sick.

And you always will be.

There is only one way to beat fate.

Survive.

Grow old. 

Laugh at destiny's face.

It's not worth 

dying for rebellion.