We have peaked a long time ago.

You had held me on top of you.

It was on a Sunday night.

The thick air promised summer.

Now rivers flood homes.

Now rains drown shadows.

My hair was long.

I cut it short.

We ride down.

Way too fast.

Please wait.

I’m slow.




I have been there before:


I have let people ride

all over me, breaking

a smile – how could you know

possibly, that this hurts?


I’d repeat in my head:


I’d rather be, always,

a tormented friend than

a rejected lover.

I choose seeing things twice


over never again.

Latent – a letter

I want tell you that it’s over, I want to tell you that it was just right.

I always liked how you kissed my forehead;

How you pinched my cheeks between your thumb and your index finger

– I probably still do.

I want to say these words.

Instead, I become ever more silent: I fade out and fade away.

You will barely notice my vanishing.

I expect you to call me up and I truly hope you don’t.

Speaking up is hard whenever you are near. I haven’t practiced my words.

Do not get me wrong: I want to be around, like a latent energy.

Like a wave in the sea, I might come back.

Probably in a different shape and surely not right now.

I see the tide is low.


you never needed to

promise sweets and kittens,

In order that I would

blindly follow downstairs

I was born a hostage.

you never needed to

lure me with a reward,

in order that I would

compete in this love game.

I was born a hostage.

you never needed to

drive up in a white car,

in order that I would

take a ride in the trunk.

I was born a hostage.

all you ever needed

was my hot and keen mind:

have your pretty lies hatch

in my free obsession.

was I not born a hostage?

you only ever had

to force an open door;

enter and never leave;

let Stockholm’s do its job.

was I not born a hostage?

drive up in a white car!

promise me sweets and kittens!

lure me with a reward!

take a ride in the trunk!

enter and never leave!

blindly follow downstairs!

have your lies hatch!

compete in this love game!

was my hot and keen mind

all you ever needed?

has Stockholm’s done its job,

in my free obsession?

who is the hostage now?


I approach you

the same way

I approach

a rusk dissolving

in my mouth.

once broken

into pieces,

bit by bit,

you are easier

to take in.

pushed slightly

to my palate,

I wait patiently

for you to go

soft and delicate.

right then, I’ll push

a little harder

with my tongue:

firmly determined

I remain like this.

as your brittleness

is mellowed;

I can taste

you everywhere –

and swallow.


I have squeezed out my city

for its mellow sweet waters at dawn

and bitter fluorescent juices at dusk.

I drank from ever-interrupted flows,

took in the whole load: gagged, swallowed.

I have squeezed out my city

for rivers to entrench themselves

for rivers not to feed, but to become the sea.

I liked to call its waves coincidence,

although I, the moon, had summoned the tide.

I have squeezed out my city,

over and over with my bare hands.

that means: wrung out, pressed, extracted

until the last drop died;

cried, as I myself ran dry – and away. 

bleeding, three times

I even carried my blood home with me last night. leaving

behind no stain on your too soft bed, despite the slaughter

you had done to my heart and parchment paper uterus.

now watch me as I creep beneath your house premenstrual,

staring at your windowsill: Come see me again, wide open.

Prolifically enlightened, I am only yours to kill.


and then the details

come back to me:

like boomerang-shaped needles.

the farther I throw them away,

the harder they pierce my chest

and my weakened stomach wall

to scar me with the stories

about the shape of your upper ear

the one I could have been

or could still be – roaming.

flattering effects

don’t you dare flatter yourself for the reciprocity

I am a Schrödinger’s conundrum

I want you and do not, both at the same time 


don’t you dare flatter yourself for any of my moves 

when I’m telling you that it takes two to Tango

I might know the steps, yet you sure took the lead 


don’t you dare flatter yourself for the fire that I start

I was just about to light another cigarette

to blow some smoke into your face


don’t you dare flatter yourself for the grasp 

by the low-fenced window side

it was wide open and I was close to fall


don’t you dare flatter yourself for the song we sing 

as close as we were that night, you’re not the one 

running in my head, nor breaking my chest 


don’t you dare flatter yourself for my boldness and my courage 

they’re my possessive claims’ only disguise 

washing off beneath your tongue 


and don’t you dare try me again –

instead, pretend as if this never was

and we, in fact, did not exist.

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