you don't even recognize yourself
because you're hard to handle
and if you are, it's only
because you know you are.
You make sure several times a day,
makes shenanigans, pinches yourself,
grooming your fur against the direction of your growth
and singing pious songs.
Mirrors are hanging everywhere.
When the sky is overcast
you like to talk to yourself
and the sound of the sentences is more important to you
than their content,
no, you're not musical,
you're often out of rhythm
and have small ears but you're always a little off the track,
that's for sure,
but Erika, well, let's be honest,
tell me who isn't he?
With you there is no state to make,
no country, no city,
maybe in moments of light
to a small village,
more appropriately, a hamlet.
There, however, you are who;
when you leave the house there,
your every path is lined is lined with light walls of flowers.
Gentle art thou, many say,
and you know it,
and you think it's good,
because you don't like it,
the despair of the world
of the world
and on others
everything should be glorious.
you should let the floating float,
it's really terrible,
the opposite happens all the time,
you would be pulled behind,
everything would be made more and more difficult
and forever they're 'rumgedoktert,
with weights everywhere,
which are moved more and more,
so that it becomes even heavier,
and one more and one more.. and another and another Is that enough?
While others are clearing away you're still clearing away.. and let weight after weight
with a wonderful clap
disappear into the Emscher.
Here and now!
Don't get cold,
it says and:
the day is cooler than it looks,
and the moon is unfavorable
say others again
and think it's thoughtful,
and for these cases
you have hot water bottles in your assortment
and, moreover, you have the right answers at hand.
For example, when asked how you are feeling,
you sometimes say,
when you feel like it,
that it's going much too slowly and you think everyone around you
and you think everyone around you is stupid and then you have to giggle quietly.
And so do the others.
Basically, they are mild to you.
And when they ask you where you've been living,
"I lived there, my way of life,
where little stoves could heat a whole life,
i was so happy there.
And when I wasn't happy anymore, I left."
And then, if you keep your mouth shut after that,
you can score at that point,
there's silence, always.
At those words, always silence!
Again and again things get mixed up
and hardly anything stays in its place,
and even the intention
to make a U out of an X
is four hours out of date.
(You don't even know how to spell Essjuwie correctly)
Sometimes you think
that you understood,
what it means, for example,
when your neighbour talks about grandeur,
even if you do not share his passions.
For hours you hear him
in the apartment next door on his accordion.. playing the hits of yesterday and today,
and at the latest, when he sings along loudly to "Atemlos"
that it resounds through the walls,
you know what passion means.
Even if, as I said, you can't share it.
Ever again disillusioned about it
you step out with good intentions
to the terrace behind the house
that today again no one will applaud you,
because the admiration is now for others.
You're standing in the doorway half in, half out -
typical for you -
how many times have there been,
do you remember,
oh, stop it!
Once upon a time you were called to be a master student
of unrealized possibilities
and to this day you've actually had to deal with it
as an auxiliary student of the feasible
to get through this life.
Always on the lookout
for possibilities and chances,
which not only became less,
but did not arise in the first place,
and duties were constantly coming to the fore and duties came to the fore -
the full metaprograms, up and down,
you know about it
and yet you can't resolve them;
suddenly the door was open a little,
just a little crack,
through which, beside you only
a little mouse
could slip in.
"And now what?" she asked you.
and winked at you,
and you knew
what to say now and you said:
"Let's use the poetic space."
And you were amazed yourself,
to make such a clear announcement
to be able to make.
A poetic space also opens up here,
through "Ray - Flection",
another very special fragrance from Masque,
and also the name is quite appropriate,
because here it is about
the captured sun and freshness,
about mimosa, oh mimosa!
and violets -
who can resist...
A very delicate note of anise over a cooling breeze
on sun-warm skin,
despite a blink a clear view
of a good time
and reflected rays of sunshine,
captured and lovingly bedded
in wooden caskets
for the not so easy times,
that are to come.
The mouse immediately understood
what this was all about
and began to
to paint the walls.
With crayons of all colors
she traced the rays of the sun.. which became visible,
framed, curled and heart them.
Let her do it, you thought
For what can be expected of mice
to be expected.