Conditions of faith

 a deal is a deal is a deal is a deal

In a farewell

Friend leaves

Behind their spectacles

u get up, remember thinking of pizza in bed, not the dream you have just dreamt. You leave as if dreams are meant to be forgotten, and start running, chased away by the thing you've forgotten, into the empty streets, another block, in the blue frontier, to claim this world your own

How one smells, naturally or like the scent they decided to wear, and the direction in which the wind blows now

She clenches her fist in the heavy rainfall. Her long fingernails dig deep into the palm, and blood, running down in the rainwater like a brood of baby crimson vipers, drips onto the flooded asphalt.

 Exposed rebars like a fleet of sundials

Picking at an orange nipple in the cold, which recalls our moon's most prominent impact crater, I feel my scrotum contract, harden like a walnut shell.

 At home, wearing your clothes

 Not enough for one

Though the mosquitos sucked the blood out of her in a dead rock slumber, they could not take her dreams away. For she was a tiger; she was an eagle. On antihistamine

The complicity between the subject and the executioner includes both reticence and abandon, day and night. The curtain of the bed, which she lifts up with her hand, marks the threshold between daytime and nighttime. At night they leave their century.

Crestfallen, i walk into the washroom, illuminated by candlelight, dancing alone

 "I will leave you now," he said.

guten=morgen

heute=nicht

Drop of blood in a body of water

when your body shakes but thinks it's the building

Having fetched your snack from an in-station bakery, you rush outside to catch the tram. A stranger stops you but there’s no shared language between the two. You try but communication seems impossible in the time crunch; you have to go and the helpless face of this stranger is imprinted on you

You wait outside the hipster coffee shop for your turn to enter and order. You’re up next and, while the two customers inside take their time, one of the baristas makes a knowing eye contact with you; you blink in response as if to say “hello”. When you enter, your flat white is already there, and you are touched. Smile at the perfectly heart-shaped foam

One day it’s more

Another day it’s less

Even when the red spots are painted over 

Oh it won't stop

Even at the smallest sound

Think I’ll shatter

One of the many flags 

Flapping toward you

You can't even pick one 

So here I am 

With my mouth shut as I toss my eyes to the ground

Counting dust in my pocket

Looming in the dark that faint smile of another new moon 

 His parents died when he was born blind and deaf

 look up 

u

h

ave 

made

ur

nail mark

in the paper

even

-ing

sky

a

    l

                                                                                                       e

                                           t

                                                                                                                                     t

                   e    

                                                                                        r

Our taste buds dry in the heat. Food is okay. Water, soothe those clenched fists in the mourning light. Look outside, how petals stutter and fall. Face painted with soil at war with the garden of stillness. Butterflies with hand-shaped wings clap or pray till dawn. When the air turns indigo, she says you have common knowledge. Like that switch on your bedroom wall, in anticipation of (s)(n)(m)ores