Old friend

Sand in my teeth

Sand in my stomach

Long lost friend

I found you after all this time

I bite so eagerly the wind

You taste like nothing sweet old friend

My teeth like you are turning into clay

I have been wood and rotten iron

I lied quite often that I’m gold

Sometimes in awe I thought I’m silver

and in a moment of denial I was sure I’m simply old

To reach to you

In water I descended

A bloated piece of clay

A sugar plum with joyless claws

caressing fish and reading algae

Researching eagerly a doctorate in dreading joy

For proper research

You have to look the other way

Inside

The bottom of the pit is clay

I look for my lost siblings, my lost boy

My footsteps

When I walked the ocean road

I am so sure a fish descended

I walked on one

he screamed with joy

Remember me you fish you larva you frog you lonely breathless prick

I said

Remember me

I screamed

Remember me you fool

I need

I need to see my footsteps in the ocean

Please

Ocean drive

Remember me

It faded fast

the fish the ocean the dust the rain

I picked my rotting body, carried it to the morgue

I threw up sand

Goodbye my love

I sat myself inside the cold

With scented claws

I cut my liver

And then I waited

In the dark

In pain

Blood slowly sifting out of me

The last night that I’ll ever dread

Go dry

Go north

Go places

I reached your mouth

And I turned to sand.

Children

What about the children

Who raises them

Who gives them love

Who gives them hope and dreams to chew on

Who am I to let them breathe into this world

Of poison, disappointments and hedonistic trinkets

I am no better though no worse

And children pure then tainted by my flaws

Make little copies of my evil

Grotesque miniatures of scarce unfinished dreams

I am about to leave my dreams behind

And who am I to burden but a child

With every bit of love I have

With every bit of hate

Vicariously I dream of their unborn dreams coming true

Of braiding their unborn hair

Of reading Harry Potter in the not yet born darkest of the nights

The stars will wait for fair children to be born

Blessed by a luckier star than the one I have been carrying

This weight I have been carrying around - my stupid love

Take out that love

Spit it into a child

They’ll love you back

They’ll care

And then if lucky they will hate you just a bit

And maybe on a Christmas day when you are eighty

Another little one will put in braids

what has survived of your white hair.