window therapy

February 26, 2009

window therapy when im drunk, twentyseven, fifteen and village window therapy when i’m end and beginning window therapy when i’m a dreaming child window therapy when will she be a widow window therapy when she will be alone when she will create as she did in her 10th month window therapy when i’m a singer window therapy beyond my wedding window therapy when i think of franconia, dartmoor, cherokee and algonquin window therapy when i’m core.

swim and ride

February 22, 2009

im riding, riding, riding

the cat’s hair in my mouth

bend over, secretary

my lips are dry because he likes it dry

 

 

im riding, riding, riding

still waiting to sell good

only hypocrits deny

the material and the product

 

build a lifestyle now

i am commerce and use it

i am wired and prove it

i am photo and ponder

 

and swim on the surface, in the stream

 

im wondering, wondering

are all my roommates confused

or is it only me

trying to hide for a jerk,a cry, a smile, a dive

 

build a lifestyle now

i am getting some for free

i am wired and prove it

i am photo and ponder

 

and swim on the surface, in the stream

 

im 1001, im 1-on-1, im 1.0.1

the only stable thing is the constant tune

you whistler, 

search the documents, you chronicler

 

and swim on the surface, in the stream, ride the tune

so far in

February 22, 2009

you return to the neutrality that you felt as a child 

back then you relaxed and looked out of the window

you counted the frogs on the flowery meadow

everyday, no matter what, at least you weren’t in their way

 

i am looking for the better sibling who hates facesitting

the cocoa powder covers the moist wall you’re trying to lick

i lost the middle within 30 days, especially the nights 

with you and your   will   power   

 

be resisted    be on your way

 

no way out, no way in

medium bow and arrow

and wet boxer shorts (on my back, on my knees

Stuck inside, so far in i like to play this role)

 

you enter the door to the real mass beneath the falls

it may turn you into a perceptive troublemaker for the sake of indifference

it may make you stand up and shake a hand or two

even more than now, 

 

when i’m breathing in the woods

 

for the first time you cry out aloud, on the row boat

respectful to your shivering nudity, you need to be there all the time

for the moment, you need to be alive lying relaxed and drink treehuggers

you always longed for under 

 

the endless sky on the running hound

 

alive, you tell your best friend

which songs to play

at your funeral (we’re in the wrong band, but you

that finally made you i’ll always find flying above)

 

Burst into tears

under green pressure

Burst into tears

under green pressure

Burst into tears

a second before your hot head starts burning

under green pressure

it’s only for you

hopster

February 6, 2009

i resign to see all the patches

to sew all the patches

i quit to dance all dances

to romance all dances

i fume to extend the wait

to pretend to cry

 

i owe you my time

i owe you my time

 

the girl needs capacity to act

that’s why he’s a girl

the drug wants to be xxx’d

xy,xy, xx, xx, zzzleep

the ballerina has her toes

the headbanger has my hair

 

i owe you my time

i owe you my time

 

i resign, i resign

i sit and wait happily

i quit for good

i swallow your juice

the only thing i beg you for is

please let me stare

 

i owe you my time

i owe you my time

i owe you my time

i owe you my time

under oaks

February 3, 2009

my friends are enemies

that’s borderline pathetic

let me talk, i am back at the river, let me talk

but i miss the land of cynicism

mindfuck is the lover’s cure

it’s just another monday

 

i will always be hiding here

under the oak in the park with booze

 

unifying speaker 

you’re not aware of your power

you should look down and left

this prussian microcosmos

this nation has no notion

we love, but we don’t care or caress

 

i will always be hiding here

under the oak in the park with booze

fresh

January 17, 2009

i bring my new virtue home, i’m on the run

these minimal movements, this sonic continence 

i fucked the brains out, viral typing and stroking fingers

i played insecure until i got injected

until i got rejected

until the new man got elected

now it’s up to my ass

 

hard wire, my fingers bleed, i’m on the run, 

from the metal and the cold and the game

nothing’s worth more  than the cause and the crisis

i played bonjour and bonne nuit

i need foot control

i need food control, no ivory tower

now it’s up to the croissant intolerance

 

i leave the unknown kings, i’m on the run

and try to live with the personal queen

my toes have a temporary numb home

dilletant, ready, steady wilderness, go

i need stories

i need stories and worries

now it’s up to the social

 

i’m on the run

soy

i’m on the run

soy

i’m on the run

i would always go dancing with you, black in black. let’s go

though i’ve always disliked predictable group behaviour, like you

don’t you, oh, don’t you?  they will smile at us, we are, we are  that kind of borrowed japanese punk couple with stars and

flashes and other body modifications inscribed all over that are so 

yesterday futuresque retrospect stolen

yesterday, yesterday, yesterday

 

now, let’s face it, if i meet you on the street someday 

at the harbour with those ratatata-ridiculous  politically nipple-pierced male sluts 

that denied you access to the structure, to the source socialist divine

with their recycable bottles tied around their macho waists screaming in the front row

i’ll pretend to be polite, as everyone, thanks to people, thanks to our north american circumstance context you cunt 

circumstance, circumstance, circumstance

 

and i won’t forget 

your privileged hockey stick boyfriend creating his piece of art-meat reversing all movement

in my ass and their ’68 tradition of androgyny, they’re fed by their fountain of peer only here, i need silence and peace from you

two, i don’t care if you party on windows 98 birthday-style in YOUR squat,

i need a 21 year-old postmodern mass cultured angelgrrrl who likes to make it squirt instead,

and sings pride, in the name of love and weed, in the name of love and weed, in the name of love and weed

 

you should know, in my mind, i want to bash you.

your teeth. i wouldn’t have to hear you 

articulating your perfect unison, your critical complaints. one thing is clear, you waste my precious time, i will always

hate you, hate you, hate you, oh yeah

you’re divine, demanding, divine, demanding, divine, demanding

 

scorpio, you’re neo, scorpio, your neo, scorpio, you’re neo

is it me and me, is it me and me, is it me and me

get out of my house and welcome someone else, now

hunter-hunters pt.1

January 7, 2009

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

pisses on her parade

money is my queen

cute air, damaged hair

from now on

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

hope, there is still a hipster

wait to be eliminated, illuminated

we all go black

progress, but we’re still blind

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

dances with invisible strangers

my nineties wallpaper shirt 

it doesn’t match my skirt

she is looking down on me

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

but we’re nice to each other

but we’re nice to each other

believe

January 7, 2009

the father loves the dramatic

the mother just hides and slides

trinity is snowed in

frozen forever, thank their god and their projections, believe him

 

me, the slayer

her name is jane

the meat is between my legs

it’s getting smaller, thank you, my crutch god, i believe in you

 

cut it off, cut it off

you amazon with hair on your thighs

i trust you, i want to bite you

rashes rushing down the spine, believe me

 

maybe, she just doesn’t want to

maybe, she just doesn’t want to have

thicker patchwork-skin, australian traveller

she’s out of grass, believe her

 

distract the viewers

she`s 17, but at least she’s not 40

is it

avril lavigne

or the goth mother, don’t believe her

 

is it

mine or is it yours

the bar, the river, location! location!

my new brother is their new son

at least, they believe him

 

goodbye new family

in the end

January 7, 2009

in the end they’re just people, too

trying to live

freefalling

no string attached

on their way down

 

in the end, they do it secretely

in the end, you do it secretely

caressing the stick and the hole

but no one knows, though everybody knows

we`re in this together

 

in the end, they say it doesn’t matter

but you cannot find an end

anywhere

twitching eyelids

too many tracks to tell

 

in the end

it all comes down to trade

it all comes down to material

finish the friendship or the politeness or this one state solution

 

in the end

we have to renew, review and improve

optimize the self – destruction, 

write it down and sing it out aloud inside

 

it’s a beginning

when you start walking

arms wide open

it’s the constant tribal beat

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