dear diary
why is it so daunting, walking amongst people who
can see you

1. i guess you could say that i have gone into hiding again, that i react
to emotions like a painting, noting nothing but colours.
2. the phone is constantly ringing, it is such vicious sound.
3. i like to think of myself as a wounded general in a hollywood tragedy,
trapped in a bunker with nuclear bombs hanging in thin air, clusters of perfectly
ripe grapes, a zeppelin lingering in the smoke screens above
4. blockbuster the sequel, for some foggy reason the underground is empty,
the bomb did not detonate, i will not ask were everybody has gone
their voices can be seen flying like meteors between the s p a c e s
5. admittedly, it is kind of thrilling knowing that soon this, whatever we take it for
will be hiroshima.
6. with a calm longing for that magical moment
i stand wrapped in velvet curtains, a feather boa and a cowboy hat
7. i have not been touched for decades and i think i might be carrying a gun
someone shouting a sequence of numbers.

everything began to count
we were born on that exact moment.


birdbath, blow a wish

dear diary,
imagine this: snakes slithering through thin air,
casually shooting poison from their fangs, you never prayed for the lives of others
or imagine stumbling down the street, drunk, numb, eyes on the bleeding pavement
the distant sounds of cars screeching by, your mouth full of disappointment,
a black cat transforming into a pumpkin.
or picture yourself floating around in a sea of fire, your body turning into wax,
your skin dripping, gradually becoming solid, a limousine with toned white windows.
some years later in a church nearby the village where we all grew up
a morning wake, the priest putting a flame to your mind, singing about glory
a fuzzy little animal clawing a cavity in your burning stomach, the sweetest of music.
kurt cobain blew his brains out, courtney love keeps digging his grave.
i wish you nothing but the best.

in a state of trance
swallow your pills and move along, my sullen blossom
how destruction fucked destiny and created something completely different
movies in made up languages are as close to reality i will ever get.


dear diary,
these are the quiet days
nothing moves, a decade ago i watched the wind walk run away with all my money and
how could i ever leave the house, if nobody is home, if i am not there,
your abandoned voice echoing my

"only from the moment you start writing
those ridiculous stories on dried up flakes of skin,
they will believe you."

i lie stretched across the floor, counting symptoms,
touching all four walls with the tip of my tongue, one toe in every corner.
maybe there is an equation for this disease,
the pounding music, how the nauseating beat of a lung temporarily bringing
order to the universe.
i am a rattling skeleton, a drowning whale, a blank sheet of paper
i will not speak to you, i have got nothing to say,
you only wear a crown when the sky is to be trusted.
fragments of time, angeldust fairydust candyfloss cocaine,
i could dance for centuries.


a matter of blank spaces

dear diary,
i collect minimal techno and party invitations.
i wish i could stop talking about sleep but i'm afraid being awake is too daunting
last night i had this dream again. the dream.
a universe of its own, both static and ever changing
me, twirling around like a lost character in a computer game, a lucid marionette
sharks are such beautiful beasts don't you think and this time i must have been riding one
and once again i lost track of the enormous white horses somewhere along the way, they are the kindest people you will ever meet,
i was sliding faster and faster around in what could only be described as a massive maze hidden in a giant replica of westminster university,
signs of danger everywhere, a shruken river thamse.
have you ever witnessed a bobsleigh competition
faster killershark faster and from time to time i appeared invisible, it was unbelievably calming
grown up children in bright green school uniforms. animated teachers telling them off
"this is the river, do not ever go in"
emerald blazers, inhabiting every corner of my mind.

a naked woman covered in oil, cold water made of sand
the body is such an uninteresting vessle, your genitals are babies unborn.
ideas shining bright in
diamond light.

medications, proud caretakers of this habernating soul.
do not ever go in. i make a living out of kiwi flavoured lemonade,
sour breathing, i always smell of alcohol,
you're scented like softcore porn, a flickering candle.


dear diary,
of dreams i remember nothing, the sky is not the limit when the universe is ever expanding
my favorite colour is the rainbow, fire is dripping from the dry corners of your mouth
the sun is a raging waterfall, summer had almost arrived when we went under cover

i was in love with the saddest boy on earth, he said
for all the children lost, i will never stop crying
and where i came from they all spoke of salvation but no one ever made a move and the
boy who wouldn't stop crying didn't have a care in the world, he always started running
as i began begging for him to see me and where he walked not a single breaking wave,
his shadow turning against the tempest

we stole a boat and sailed through frozen forests, he said my blank eyes, they came
without pupils that is why i will never perceive anything as you do, feel anything you feel and if we ever have to stop, i shall pick you a flower, dry it up between worn out bedsheets like my sodomised virgin mother and your face will start to rot, falling off in thewy chunks, flesh slowly decaying,
baring bones like glaciers

the piercing song of a flightless bird,
its infinite sadness.