Ocean Of Noise

l                                    why “dull”  i wonder
l                                why “never”  if you lied and
l                             why “mistake”  if you chose freely
lll                          why not “sorry”  when you‘re in denial
lllll                      why not “steady”  what is left of us
l                            why not “truth”  but noise?

l                               daily prompt: liar liar


.    don’t free me.                don’t lure me.                       don’t miss me.
you know this heavy cord   you know your words         please
.    around my feet              they’re sticky           if i loved you even more
.          it hurts to soar     it hurts to hear their truth    i might give up
.        but i’m afraid                but i’m afraid                      but i’m afraid
.             i might drift off                i might believe     it hurts to miss
.        if i let it go                if i listened to you                  and my dear
.              please                            please                you know i couldn’t make you
.       don’t free me.                  don’t lure me.                                               miss me.

A Multitude Of Casualties

daily prompt: freaky friday.

it was a real fight at first.
but yesterday, i finally caught the little beast. i caged it in an empty glass on my bedside table, taped the edges and then i watched it die a horrible, crippling death. Continue reading

To Let Myself Go

hello to everyone, who still finds the time to read my scattered ramblings in these days of heat and stress and overwhelming global creations.

i will have to force myself to be quite straight forward with today’s daily prompt. and as much as i’d love to put some good effort and time into this post (much like with yesterday’s prompt, which i eventually skipped heavy-heartedly, for lack of time and thinking capacity), there won’t be no picture or poem or song lyrics. oh well; maybe i’ll quote a song, at least.

when i was ten, i went to fourth grade – like most kids my age.
.                         at home, i had lego bricks lying on the carpet and between my pillows.
.                         i had kept my barbies, although all i did was sew dresses for them.
.                         i loved to draw, mostly because i had detailed ideas, ready to be put down.
.                         i never quite excelled at maths, but once i understood, it felt pretty doable.
.                         i studied french. i felt grateful that memorizing vocabulary was effortless.

when i was ten, i got asked what i wanted to become, once i grew up. in hindsight, i wonder why adults confronted kids my age with those kinds of questions. were the answers not entirely irrelevant, when i hadn’t even known secondary education?
can kids even know what they want to become?

when someone knelt down before me and asked, i stuck with the activities i enjoyed.
.                                                                                i’d wanted to be an architect.
.                                                                                i’d wanted to be a designer. Continue reading

It Dawned On Me

is a word
i hadn’t heard you
call yourself
in years
i don’t recall
at all

does it sound strange
to me
because it’s you
who forms their lips
to this at last
or does it maybe hurt
because it’s still
not me


daily prompt: jealous