maandag, november 17, 2003


the tailor clears his thread
and runs a needle through his throat.

ik ben tegen.

prayer that slithers like bad oysters
introduced and misguided

de waarheid

will fall in on deaf ears so
the screaming will mean nothing

illusies, slangenbezweerders

when stopping this hand,
cette main se trouvera demain
again because the cycle never ends:


in the old years the old loves
will drip like leaky faucets
and the bones will ice over

voor grijpgiers

the remains never discovered remain
the thread that holds together
the strand of thought
you could do better.

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