Ah, baby!

You are beautiful and crunchy and…

I see your vanes they shine with tears.

I smell your hands they search for peace.

Ah, baby, life…

Dance to the music

chew on nothing
step hard
on your heals, baby.

I pour myself in front of you

I kiss you.

The black of your well

may it always remain so.
(Order is so boring!)

And you, baby...

Ah, you…

I search to find to get up to cross this bar to buy you a drink something.
I wonder what you 're drinking.

Not today.

Tomorrow.

I 'll get up (?).

And you, baby,

there pretty waiting.
Your thighs plump
your tits glorious.

Ah, baby!
How do I cross infinity?
patience
to pass
I am patient.
Patience.

I smooth the feelings

I place the thoughts

Bla-bla-bla conversations
Perfect clothes
Dull fuck "Common! Getting going."

(you)
Chop wood in the open air (you)
the purity of the beast (you)
the stare of the byers (I) "But we are so ridiculous!"

And you chop wood.

"You bastard!" I scream.

(You know why).

2
I know what you want.

Years and years with you

I've memorized lists and lists of desires
clear, definite, age long.

I know what you want.

"Roula was married". The reminder.

The possibility of a baby is pulsating in my belly

from the first drop
of blood
on the white panty or from the first
fuck
(I 'm sorry, the first love, I should have said).

"The only road to happiness"

you warn me. "Especially for a woman".

Years away from you and yet undefeated

the terror
of the unborn
baby
the agony of it's no-existence
your conviction of my inadequacy without
despite all the hurrah of my accomplishments.

"You 're thirty". The threat.

I hate it.
I hate it's plastic need.
I hate your conviction of the only happiness.
I hate the fear of my doubt of my/your mistake (?).
I hate. And shake.
I shake at the possible grabbing of the tried out security.
I hate… oops… I hope you ´re not hearing this.
Your condemnation would be final.

3
unable
the feet to leave
prints on the sand.

I fear that I am not.

I fear that not.
I am.

I lick
grease the sole

(is that what's missing?)

I grease with come

that?

Blood sweat tear

any I can wet birth of my body

that? that? that? that? that?

I fear that I am not.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask.

The goddess was chewing leaves.

I've seven years left.

I laugh bright red.

I lean on the bar.

I 'm getting drunk. "One more fuck!" I ask of you.

Motive. Always. To life.

Especially with you.
AlwaysLife.

"Turn up the volume!"

alwaysLIFE

4
When she died her face lit up.

"So beautiful", they were saying, "she'll take someone along."

"Shut your trap", I clenched, but they insisted.

We buried her quietly. There was no blood; not at all.

They went to sleep. Secure

in their bed souls
souls breaths
I filled up my basket
breaths I filled up silences
to fulfill the prophecy. Blood
there was
none.

5
Our love is fed
not only by the hug
but also
by the morning coffee
the wrinkled newspaper
the socks (they smell like feet) by the bed.
It is fed
by the crumbs on the table after lunch
the clothes to be ironed
the weekly TV guide.

Don't rush.

Our love is not bad.

It is common.
It suits us.

"Come here, my love. Don´t listen to them."