we need to be nicer

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Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

∆ 27
Ich trage meine Kreuze und die der Anderen. Verpasse es manchmal, sie abzulegen, zehn Tonnen Gewicht auf den Schultern. Wenn man sich mit Abschiedsgedanken trägt, die alten Verständlichkeiten in Seidenpapier eingewickelt. Der Knoten in der Brust, Fragen nach einem anderen Tag.
Ich fülle die Lücken in den Steinen, Kanten, es wird rund, man spürt die alten Brüche noch. Darüber schreiben, um zu erfahren, um erleben zu können – mit und ohne Filter vor dem Inneren.

Manche sammeln Menschen wie Murmeln, sie rollen durch den Körper, zumindest tun sie das bei mir. Der Schatzjäger in einem und die Versprechen, die Andere nicht halten können. Dabei habe ich mich schon in Grund und Boden geblutet.

en

I carry my own crosses and those of others. At times, I miss out on setting them aside, a weight of ten tons on my shoulders. I carry thoughts soaked in goodbyes with me, tissue paper wrapped around what used to be self-evident. Knot in the rib cage; me, continuously asking for a different, a new day. I fill the gaps in-between stones, edges, I turn them into something smooth. You can still feel the old cracks. Writing to experience, to witness – with and without a filter, a shield in front of the core.

Some collect people as they would collect marbles, they roll through the body or at least they do so in mine. The treasure hunter within and the promises others are not able to keep. But I have already bled myself into the ground.

for the good times
and bad times we know will come
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I specialize in end times, too

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Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

the fabric between things and skin / intimacy on an object level

for the pain is dark and made of marble / for the rest of the days we had no idea we’d be sleeping in separate beds within one single bed / my apologies to Queen Elizabeth for not living up to a standard she established / my apologies for not being the person my mother raised me to be / my apologies for not being the daughter my father ought me to be, two lives ago / my apologies for not being the woman my partners expected me to be

my deepest sympathy to the ones I have loved for I have failed them in every way there is

my heartbroken thoughts go out to the me I lost when I was six years old

my apologies to the person in the corner
to the person in the shadows
to the person not standing up to the person bullying us
my sincerest apologies for not writing anymore
I know it must have hurt you like crazy
I know I must have hurt you like crazy

for your heart they will mug you
for your soul they will trick you

supermassive black hole II / interlude I

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Untitled by smallcutsensations

there must be something ancient running through my veins
I swear that you did not die when you told me your skin reminds you of something long gone
and did I not tell you I wanted to see Warsaw and Krakow because I think the light lingers in between the buildings
the way it lingers between your eyelids
because the trains would not tell us where they would want us to go to either and seeing that there are sayings that are partial lies we did nothing but vanish into thin air
afterwards I checked for vital signs only to find that I could not measure them with my fingers even if I tried
simply because there was something far more complicated stuck in my eyes 
I guess it was the forest and the sea and how bewildering it was to be
only then I realised how much I longed for the sharpness of skin and the way it feels when fingertips slide down spines
only to find the root of another person’s body
please let me be your dinosaur, too
never let me sink
always feel at home

mother shell

Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

Untitled by smallcutsensations

Fotos, die meine Mutter machte – um die Mitt-1980er. Ich dachte, ich könnte mich ihr irgendwie annähern, wenn ich dorthin gehe, wo sie war, als sie fotografierte. Es funktionierte nicht, denn ich vergaß, dass sie nicht die Menschen in den Fokus stellt, sondern die Boxen, in denen sie damals lebten.
Allerdings gibt es hier irgendeine Romantik, die ich noch nicht ganz greifen kann.

Photographs my mom took around the mid 1980s. I thought I could somehow get closer to her by going to where she was when she was still taking photographs. It didn’t work because I forgot that she doesn’t care too much about putting humans/people in the centre of her photography; instead she focussed on the boxes in which people lived back then. Nevertheless, I found some kind of romanticism in these pictures I’m yet to fathom.

there’s no connection between
giving birth to me and making me survive
and my children will tend to ask questions like
„when are we going to die?“

I don’t know how we’re gonna get out

Ein sehr wohliges Gefühl, umherlaufen im Stadtzentrum; bin mir nicht sicher, wo es endet und wo es anfängt, vielleicht hat es überhaupt kein Ende. Das erste Mal so richtig fest verwurzelt ein „hier kann ich leben“, ein paar Straßen weiter ein „hier will ich leben“ trotz Rollsplitt in meinen Schuhen. Das Licht, dieses Licht, es fühlte sich so an, als würde die Sonne versuchen, all die Schichten von verhärtetem Gewebe um mein Herz abzuschälen, ich habe alles davon gespürt, ich fühlte jede einzelne Schwiele von mir abplatzen wie trockenen Gips.

(translation:)
A warm feeling, walking around throughout the city centre; I’m not sure where it ends and begins, maybe it doesn’t even end at all. For the first time, a deeply rooted „I can imagine living here“, after another set of streets an „I want to live here“ though my shoes were filled with the city’s loose gravel. The light, this light, it felt as if the sun tried to peel off all the layers of the hardened tissue around my heart, I felt it all, I felt how each and every callosity flaked off me like dry gypsum.

I know I push it over
and I’m sorry for that
I don’t mean to make this hurt
when we haven’t started yet

the engine

a year, number: twenty twelve
1 numbness, loneliness, sickness, helplessness, mental disorder. 2 a try, the creative spark, everything is temporary. 3 a visit, a town, a breakdown, help, the safe place. 4 the hello, a help, being found, finding, another try, the wait. 5 continuity, the safe haven, going up the hill, a city. 6 by my side, a breakdown, help, sleep deprivation. 7 you, joy, the safe person, finding, my summer. 8 you, tiny worries, the safe person, strength, apathy, a promise. 9 continuity, commitment, a suburb, a hotel, longing, fear, a collapse. 10 a twin advance, understanding, continuity, an explosion, loss. 11 longing, commitment, autopilot, a fence, hurt, missing, absence. 12 a reaction, commitment, understanding, fear, a retrospect, my promises, the wait.

fear not your fears
everybody needs an engine
you need an engine, that’s true
and you’re somebody else’s engine, too