versperr hier nicht den gang du penner ich muss dringend zur passkontrolle

kommt arroganz mit erfahrung?
muss man sich den respekt des jetsetters erst verdienen?
hat man überhaupt ein recht auf diese arroganz?
it's not about money or the number of languages you speak fluently
we're all bilingual anyways honey, at least come up with some exotic or extinct language, like swahili or canyubaba
it's about being cosmopolitan, a distinct attitude, diesen letzen feinschliff
shiny people
everything looks more beautiful when you're ten thousand metres high above the ground
there are no ugly people in the big city
only lonely hipsters
vor dem gesetz der straße sind alle gleich
it's brutal
it takes courage to stand naked in front of the crowd saying those few lines you've been rehearsing all your life
one minute of fame
you will be forgotten
most people have already lost themselves when they arrive
they come for inspiration, for their new identities
you might turn into a piece in the jigsaw puzzle of their creations
everyone becomes everyone else
you measure your worth by how many people want to be you
you will reflect on this for hours and not even find it peculiar
all drink an smoke yourselves to death, then detox for a day or two
because sophistication is being in control
we won't shut up about gentrification and the most recent gig
that we didn't go to because we boycott the venue
the past year has been the best year of my life.

i digress

for weeks now i've only been writing captions
no body, no font, no style at all
only massive black capitals on lined paper
and there is no such thing as the story continues
the headings are all i have to say
within a matter of seconds i lose interest
and even though that does not bother my apathy
i sometimes give it a thought or two or three
and then i start counting backwards to minus 273
where it is absolute zero, everything freezes

kellergewölbe

i used to go out without a safety pin in my pocket
(and one on the inside of my overcoat, in case the other one gets lost)
can you imagine what it's like to be safe at all times?
imagine it painful,
say farewell to excitement and pleasure
to all highs and lows, feelings in general cannot be tolerated.
because what is safe about them, see?
my world's as small as a pinhole, my mind is narrow

opacity

sie ist schön, weil sie interessant aussieht
weil sie undenkbar viel verspricht
ihre rüschen, ihre fransigen schlecht geschnittenen haare
die zerrissenen strümpfe und ihr schmaler nacken
erzählen von einem charakter, der sich so weit erstreckt wie das universum (in unseren gedanken)
trübt sich ihr klarer blick gelegentlich
so verraten doch ihre gestik und haltung die unendlichkeit ihrer sinne
kann sie ihre unmenschliche wortwahl nicht verbergen
so heiligen doch ihre sanften bewegungen und berührungen alle mittel
ihre vorlaute schwermütigkeit ist die uhrahnin aller meiner wünsche
und der zauberstaub der sie ständig umgibt
die asche aller ihrer vorfahren
versetzt in einen rausch von sehnsüchten und träumen
ergibt was sie sagt keinen sinn
ist es doch in sich schlüssig
und ich sterbe für jeden ihrer gedanken.

i used to go out without a safety pin

back then in the heavy days
when i used to be unconscious
when i was still in denial
i could at least feel the numbness
and how overwhelming it was to make the first freeing step
to become one girl with a conscience
it was a lot to bare though, i was constantly under the watch of myself and i became very controlling
and now - some time has passed - i do not know (but would appreciate to have a feeling for)
how to move freely, how to make decisions
based on my very own and inner will
and back then in the heavy days
i could at least feel the numbness
but now i believe i cannot feel anything at all
not even the obnoxious, crawling pain
that should be there at all times.

what i found at the train station

asian girls who dance at the baker shops when they place the order
soul mates who just walk by
dogs that look like racing horses, brawny and fierce, wrapped in blankets like newborn babies
cookies that cost a fortune
sweetly smiling ladies squished in elevators, they know more than you think
each person you see could tell you their whole lives
if you were the centre of attention
you are glad you are not, but you like the idea

all we have is now

curious whiskers in my throat
fascinating rhythms in my stomach
poor splinters of thoughts in my head
your hand on my arm
your eyes sunken into mine
you occupy my soul