I take you aside,
to see what you do:
sometime’s you’re talking back to me,
but truly: I don’t say that much to you.

so here we are:

let’s face some time of sparing.
(hearing nothing much but staring)

”So, how’ve you been?” – you try (again), but,

my head’s an empty space,
my face a single stare,
my hands not warm enough to hold,
to keep,
sweet silence, one friend deserves to bare.

***

I’m this empty whomb,
menstruating.

waiting for my body to bleed.
Month by Month –
Painkillers will do.

Till one Baby creeps
(over nine months no bloody rainz).

But for now my hair falls down the windowsill,
I feel my ovaries like wishingwells
hanging onto each others crutch.

***

”Look @him” 1 Apple cries –
Now our story can begin Just Fine

his dress is blue and diamondbright,
and fleshy colour laces up his
pure pure pinkish foolish-ness,

Just Fine

He sees those Apples cry out loud: Apples up and Apples down

Apperel-ent-ly, he took his gun
is there some mind to tell us not?
His age as old as fathers is and

I don’t mind to be his grl,
I don’t wanna hurt nobody.

”But will you
But will you show us
But will you show us the way to keep control?”

,

so he put out the gun and it’s all laced up in black
and now we smile for real and all those Apples cry
”It’s 3&1, my days are numbered”

.    To be just fair: I like his dress, I wear the same

,

Today we sit and have some tea (T), we keep our lacey gun close next to us (I feel my heart is trusting his)

so we switched our fingers: I kept his smile,
he took my left brown eye and
Thirty-one, his days are numbered.

I bought more lace to feel the sun burning way too hot. I’m sweating, choking, swalling hard, feel my flesh unwearable

then: Apples up and Apples down

”But will you
But will you show us
But will you show us the way to keep control?
Baby?”

,

his phone rings mine,

he tells me now, to tell you applepies:

31, your days R numbered

sweet pussy presses baby: this breed glides out so neat.
Her pussy’s sweetest baby is pressed out thick and neat.
Her mother glances freaky: Hot water, pulvered milk.
Her newborn, pressed-out-baby: Her pussys’s tiny seed.

My hair burned out so quickly. Those lungs are dark, grey fields. I fall asleep as quicly, as tiny pussys’s breed.

The ring you missed- I gave to her.
You asked, I lied.
I’m sorry.

Could we go back to that, please?

She was. I was. She said. I loved.
You see? She was. I was. I loved.

You never asked, you never knew.
I’m sorry.

May I go back to that, please?

She gave me back that ring. I cried.
You know, I know, you saw.
You asked, I lied.
I’m sorry.

I’m not ready, please.

I gave her back that damn red thing!
You never knew, you never saw, you always missed.
I’m sorry.

she’s some princess in my eyes: sparkling bubbles cross my mind. „will you please come over here and stay?“
sometimes hours cross my head and sing me songs: they sticky stuck my eyelids. so powerful.
when I cry it’s sugarcubes. So much: And then I open up and see you’re still not coming up to me.

I lie down. Next to me some book,
reading, blushing, smelling nice.
then,

same sort book lies next to me. smelling differently.
however, sometimes, turning away. Just lying down. , time’s just passing.

Falling heavier, like sugardrops down melting: It’s not hot in here but dusty.
Springtimy.

Then,
I track my rusty back and see: you’re still not coming up to me.

When.
, I was a little kid,
,I really, really knew,
, that time, will change us closely.

And then some 23, and maybe 34, or older- here we go:
still these little kids with sugarcubes like candy crush opening those shoulders, like wings hanging down.
little feathers.

just tiny ones.
„Hey“
, at least.
The skin got rustier. turning backs, so painful…
„Ah“ , I say.

Hey and Ah.
Hey Princess Ah Princess.
Hey,
, Ah.

sticky stuck. stuck sticky.
, „Hey Princess.“

,I turn around (again) and see. You’re still not coming up to me.