Treibsand

Je mehr ich laufe,
desto tiefer sinke ich.
Stehen bleiben geht nicht.
Weitermachen ist das Ende.

Kartenhaus

Du rennst und rennst
und baust und planst
da ist ein Bild in deinem Kopf
so soll es sein
und nicht anders.

Du rennst und rennst
und baust und planst
eine Karriere
ein Mann
ein Haus
ein Kind
so soll es sein
und nicht anders.

Du hälst an
und siehst das Bild vor dir
ein Mann
ein Haus
ein Kind
so sollte es sein.
Und du wünschst dir, es wäre anders.

Flügelmensch

Er steht immer ein bisschen schief im Weg rum,

mit überdimensionalen Kopfhörern und

'nem versteckten Grinsen in den Augenwinkeln.

Er riecht nach Boticario und Nikotin

und oft nach Kaffee und Deo,

wenn er so gerade vorm Computer sitzt und was bastelt.

Er schafft immer

und schafft es immer

witzige weise Wörter in den Raum zu werfen

die inspirieren und schikanieren

weil sie dir ins Ohr flüstern,

wie wenig du doch weißt

von der Welt

und deiner Arbeit

und deiner Sprache

und überhaupt und sowieso.

Und wenn du meinst, du kennst ihn,

zeigt er dir was,

was dich umhaut

und dich inspiriert

und dir Flügel verleiht

wie in der Red-Bull-Werbung.

Und du fliegst ein bisschen mit

und wünschst dir

noch ein bisschen weiter fliegen zu können.

So ein Flügelmensch ist doch was Besonderes.

Waiting

Bubbles and stars
barbies and scars
vanilla ice cream and chocolate pudding
and mom hugs
and dad's stories
and granny's cakes
climbing trees
bloody knees
and singing and smiling and crying and
colours and smells and the whole world just waiting for us.
And now it's us
waiting for the world.

Already?

So many things I had planned
and pictures I had in my mind of
a house
and a car
and a cool job
and children
and me walking around having it all and knowing it all
and I still feel like that little girl dreaming
but my time is gone.
When did that happen?

This little spring

This little butterfly sitting on this little flower
The little girl walking the little dog

This blue sky reflecting on the blue window
The blue car parking in front of the blue house

This pretty yellow flower on the yellow wall
The yellow mailbox on the yellow door

And you walking
smiling
feeling the sunshine on your cheeks
hearing laughter and
smelling spring in the air.

Spring spreading smiles.

Mrs. Else

I
miss
art that makes my thoughts fly
I
miss
silence
that makes me hear by heart beat
I
miss
nice words that warm my soul
I
miss
smiling when the sun shines
I
miss
being someone else.

please

deathandaccidentsandstupidpeoplewarandaggressionsandcorruptpoliticiansandnoiseandbubblesburstingandthisfuckingheadacheiwanttodissapearplease

Midday

Heat the bottle.
Change diapers.
Put clothes on.
Eat a slice of bread while she clings to my left leg.
Vacuum the house.
Do the laundry.
Heat the bottle.
Change diapers.
Hang clothes to dry.
Heat the babyfood.
Feed her.
Clean the table.
Clean the floor.
Clean her clothes.
Change diapers.
Play with her for one hour.
Go to pee.
Listen to a glass breaking.
Run to the baby, who is sitting in a pile of shards.
Put her in her room. Close the door. Vacuum again.
Mop the floor while she screams and beats her tiny hands against the closed door.
Open the door. Calm her down. Sing a song to her and dance around.
Put her to crawl around.
Try to shower in five minutes while stopping her from entering the shower.
Try not to listen to her screams.
Try to dress while she is clinging on my right leg.
Dry my hair while she plays with the cable of the hair dryer.
Put her into the stroller. Carry the stroller and the dog three floors downstairs.
Try to push the stroller on Brazilian sidewalks.
Collect the dogs poop. Try to find a garbage bin.
Get home. Try to open three doors with the stroller and the dog in the way.
Carry the stroller with the baby three floors upstairs.
Put her in bed for the nap.
Exhale slowly and hope to have 20 minutes for lunch.
Heat lunch.
Dogs bark.
Baby cries.
Food gets cold.
Calm down baby. Put her in bed again.
Heat lunch for a second time.
Eat.
Close eyes for five minutes.
Open your eyes. It's midday.

Sure thing

Disappearing
slowly.
I look into the mirror and can't see me.
The dark circles around my eyes hide my endless sadness.
Days and days and days start and end the same
and I wonder what happened.
I wonder where I've gone
I wonder if I'll ever wake up again
from this numbness
this silence
this slow agony.

I can see the end
I know where this goes
I see the cliff
and I know I'm drifting towards it.
I know I'll fall deeper than deep.
And nothing will be left.