”It’s not over till you’re underground”

I stand in the dark in my room. Start singing ”Ohne Dich schlaf ich heute Nacht nicht ein” and I mean a new verse or two. This morning I was bleeding for no reason. I think it stopped now, like the urge to sleep.
I can feel again…the soft vibration of my external hard-disk. In white.
Do you sometimes feel like writing a letter to some invisible lover. Or the Russian night sky.
I saw him again last night…this time I looked down to him and he only made a sound. He was slim…just the same when he died. Sure, still have dreams of him like that every week. And it is now more than a year ago…already how I survived without his eyes this one year…maybe the same how I survived ten years without my grandfather…ten years and four days. (The tears now are just self pity again)
What do you think it feels like walking on the Chinese wall on a Spring moonlight night?
Unsettled…time…unsettled me
Today I agreed with a friend from one of workshops that money is a terrible thing and earlier my teacher mentioned how some poets were so proud to let their women work for them as: Poets do not work in normal jobs!
My hard-disk vibrates stronger…like his purr when his head was resting on my belly and saliva drenched my shirt then.
My favourite bracelet is on risk as my wrists got so thin it is on the verge to fall off.

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