Go on, then!

She says.

Master of Masks

I’m stuck and I’m running out of ideas, let alone money…

Will you love me when the money runs out?

Who will care for me when the money runs out?

In moments such as these friends do matter.

In moments such as these food does matter.

 

In moments such as these it doesn’t matter how clever you are, it’s your stupidity that counts.

It doesn’t matter how well prepared you were, it’s all going up in smoke.

You’re a fraud and your masks are frauds.

 

I definitely know that in five years time I will not write stupid letters to myself.

I don’t know how to live but I don’t wanna die.

I wish I slept for the next five years to wake up in a decade I hope to make mine.

 

I don’t wanna relieve myself,

I don’t wanna stuff myself.

I’m too worried about meself and life itself.

I have a wonderful congested nose, so no flights for me.

(Be careful what you wish for.)

 

What will this volcano hold in store for me?

How will it change my life?

I’ve had enough sun to last a lifetime today.

I will not be conquered.

I will not stand still.

 

I’m worried about the money I’m worried about the way,

 

I’m worried about the cornerstones, I’m worried about myself,

 

I’m worried how and why and if determinism works.

Am I affected?

Am I defeated?

Is this a sign to show how big a person I really am, or just coincidenza?

 

Everybody else is doing it, why can’t we?

Why can’t I?

I’m really really confused as to what to do

But as usual, I will find a way.

Usually I do!

 

No flights until further notice.

 

My mum slagged me off for not being reasonable

 

my ex-teacher offends me by suggesting that everyone should travel by train,

 

but I myself am in that situation, they are not. I am not.

 

 

If the volcano didn’t happen, I’d be home by now. No need to slag me off.

If the volcano didn’t happen my studies wouldn’t continue. No need to slag me off.

Cut me some slag.

I’d go home sit at home and watch at home.

My life would pass me even if I was at home.

I feel sombre. I feel beaten.

I feel like I don’t own this life.

I feel like determinism.

I feel like everyone’s a critique, while I am my most severe.

Impressions of a sunny Sunday afternoon in the fields next to Oran(ges) mixed with wind, high clouds, sunshine in my face and an uplifting range of musical masterpieces

Sunday, 29 July 2007

 

I no longer count the sheep jumping over and under my bed,

Only the fluffy pillows piled at the foot of my innermost feelings.

 

And my head spins around and around and the sky and the clouds above

Let me know fury and the wind rustles through the trees

And I should never forget the doors that were closed when

The saxophone-player stopped existing.

 

And I believe in my own little tiny secluded world

 

a million miles away from heaven and hell.

 

Are you sorry for your beliefs? Are you sorry for your wet dreams?

Do you regret your fatigue last night

 

when I was up late drinking with friends?

 

Yes, there are people who believe in second chances,

 

who never give up on their dreams and persistently pursue,

 

with harsh perseverance, to abolish their entropies.

 

If your soul could split from your body for one hour, where would you go?

Would you go where only friendly faces dwell?

Would you see new places, exotic birds and monkeys up in trees?

 

I simply can’t see nor taste my destiny,

No one sees what I can see

Although I wouldn’t want to see what I can see so clearly

 

It is my own, my own, the wind, the rain, the stars,the maple trees and their leaves, the birch, the bees, the clouds, the stratus cumulus, the nimbus stratus, the hives and the cars, the automobiles, the hills and the brick walls, the sunbeams and sunrays.

 

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

Answer: Bad.

 

Seems to be the answer for anything…. Anything… anything… anything… in its wrong place.

 

Yes, I do.

Yes, it is.

Hell, it is.

I tried.

 

In fact, I do.

Yes, I do, very deeply.

Are you?

 

It isn’t? I don’t believe you.

 

Pourquoi l’éxposé de mon âme?

You could have it so much better :

-          you’ve got the soul

-          you’ve got the voice

-          you’ve got the legs

-          you’ve got the chin

-          you’ve got the ears (sometimes)

-          you’ve got the body

-          you’ve got the attitude

Why not, indeed?

 

The Birds

are the keepers of our secrets,
as they saw us were we lay.

Who said

Why are you sweating, she said,

I’m not feeling too well, he said,

You always look tired, she said.

And she leaned over the counter as she

Pressed her lips to his,

Lost her balance and dropped her mobile.

You’re quite clumsy, you know, he said.

 

And while she said he’s sweating to death,

The world suddenly started turning

At a much faster pace, she said,

People die of unnatural behaviour,

And he looked at her in disbelief, assuring her

Not to let her guard down that easily.

You always look tired, he said.

 

And he couldn’t feel his feet on the ground

Because his nose was high up in the air,

I’ve been sitting here since I don’t know when,

So he was rather pissed off when she,

In a subtle move, locked her lips to his,

Why you keep doing that, he said.

You always look tired, she said.

 

Time is love, he philosophies,

Not when you’ve run out of it

it’s either wasted or doomed, she said.

And he never minded that sweetness of hers

When she pursed her lips.

I’m not feeling too well, he said.

 

Whoever does always looks tired, she said.

Metamorphosis

A bird in the sunlight

A step through the city

Going anywhere

 

A hole in your soul

A heart cold as coal

Going nowhere

 

Sunlight heats up the earth

Every lake and every sea

The moon shines into your heart

Kills love and kills your dreams

 

We take books out of shelves

Read them and rewrite them for ourselves

 

A rainbow underneath the sun

Beyond dark clouds and rain

Going nowhere

 

A hum of a bee near your ear

A tongue with honey, my dear

Going anywhere

 

A velvet rope

A purple butterfly

Going anywhere

 

Going nowhere

Going anywhere

 

Haut & Knochen

Als wir ins Zimmer traten, lag sie auf dem Bett, zusammengekauert und gebrochen, auf ihrer linken Schulter, mit dem Gesicht zur Wand und den Füssen zum Fenster, durch dessen Vorhang die Sonne vermochte, einen leichten Schatten ins Zimmer zu werfen. Ich trat langsam ans Bett heran um zu sehen, ob sie noch atmete, sah die Legion an Wasserflaschen, die ihr Bett umzingelten. Sie war blass, eine Leiche, nein, ein Geist in einem Körper, der nicht mehr länger sein wollte. Aber das Wasser beruhigte mich. Das Wasser gab mir Hoffnung. Sie hat gehungert, sich nicht ertränkt in einem See aus Nichts. Sie wollte den Schmerz langsam und die Seele entweichend erleben. Ich kroch zu ihr aufs Bett, sah, wie sie leichte Atemzüge nahm. Ich legte meinen Kopf neben sie und flüsterte in ihr Ohr, dass wir gekommen sind um sie mitzunehmen. Ich wusste nicht ob sie mich hörte, so flüsterte ich weiter wie sehr ich ihre Stärke bewunderte, ihren Willen, ihr Durchhaltevermögen. Und dass ich niemanden gehen lasse ohne sich zu verabschieden. Ich schickte meinen Bruder für Essen runter in die Küche. In dem Moment erwachte sie in der Realität, krallte sich mit all ihrer Kraft meinen Armen und hielt mich fest, sprach, Es gibt nichts mehr für mich, nichts mehr für mich und dich und deinen Bruder in der Küche. Nebenan, Nummer 4, sie wird dir alles geben, was du willst. Sprich vom Ferienhaus in Italien, sie wird dich dafür lieben. Ich würde inzwischen ein Bad einlassen, und sie zeigte eine milde Reaktion als sie zugab, Du kannst mich im Wasser sinken lassen, der Garten ist gross genug um ein Loch zu graben, begrab endlich das Beil. Ich sagte dies stehe ausser Frage, darum würde ich sie, wenn denn notwendig, ausziehen, sie auf dem Arm zur Wanne tragen und ins Wasser eintauchen lassen. Sie lächelte leicht und sagte, Nicht nötig, ich kann mich selbst tragen. Ich bin noch nicht tot. Noch nicht. Also ging ich ins Badezimmer, liess das Wasser an, ging über den Flur zurück zum Schlafzimmer, nahm sie beim Arm, hob ihren Oberkörper in die Sitzposition, half ihr auf die Beine, und nach ein paar unnatürlichen Versuchen balancierte sie sich selbst, und setzte langsam Fuss um Fuss aus dem Schlafzimmer, den Gang entlang, ins Badezimmer, wo die Seifenblasen und der Schaum den Raum zu füllen begannen, und der Duft des Lavendel füllte unsere Nasenlöcher und brachte ein bisschen Farbe zurück auf ihre Wangen. Während sie ihre Robe auszog, kehrte ich meine Augen zum Spiegel, um darin ihre Haut und Knochen reflektiert zu sehen, und das Blut entwich meinem Gesicht. Sie liess sich langsam ins Wasser nieder und das Wasser umhüllte ihren Körper von Hals bis Fuss. Ich setzte mich neben der Wanne auf den Boden und erzählte ihr eine Geschichte über meinen Hund Otto und unsere Nachbarskatze Miau, und dass Otto ein grosser Fan der Katze sei, besonders wenn sie tut, was Katzen am besten können; er würde dann in den Garten verschwinden und nach einer halben Minute daran erinnern, dass wir ihn immer im Auge behalten sollten. Sie sah mich an mit ihren wässrigen Augen, die jederzeit drohten zu rennen, um einen langen Strang an salzigen Tränen in die Wanne zu lassen, und sie sagte Du hättest nicht kommen sollen, du hättest nicht, sie sagte wieder und wieder, Ihr hättet mich dort lassen sollen, es ging mir gut, alleine, so wie ich war, und alles, alles was ich wollte, war alleine gelassen zu werden, nur für eine Sekunde bevor die Hölle losbricht, ich wollte für eine Sekunde atmen können bevor ich wieder ins Sonnenlicht getreten wäre nach dieser einen ruhigen Minute. Und ich sagte, dass ich ihr glaube, und sie sagte Lügner, jetzt bin ich dir schuldig, du bist gekommen wie ein Ritter auf hohem Ross, warum zum Teufel bist du hier, hättet ihr mich doch alleine gelassen. Und ich sagte ich brauche sie um das Projekt zu beenden, wir können nicht ohne ihre Hilfe mit den Proben beginnen, wir haben uns auf die Zusammenarbeit mit ihr gefreut, wie kann sie uns nur so enttäuschen? Wir, die sie so vergötterten, wir haben auf sie gezählt, und sie sagte Nun ist alles egal, die ganze Welt beurteilt meine Schritte, hofft, dass ich tiefer falle je höher es hinauf geht, und das Loch in das ich fiel ist kilometer-breit und meilen-weit, und ich, ich bin noch nicht unten angekommen, also lasst mich bitte, für eine Sekunde mehr, im Freifall meinen Willen zurück gewinnen. Ich werde bald wieder auf den Beinen sein. Und ich sagte, dass dies nicht nötig sei, wir würden sie mitnehmen zu meinem Bruder, der Frau und den Kindern mitsamt Hund gehen wir fort, weit fort, um ihre Geschichte zu beenden, einen Schlussstrich ziehen, eine federweiche Matte unter den Freifall legen um den Aufprall zu dämpfen, denn wir würden, um nichts in der Welt, sie einfach so gehen lassen. Sie drehte den Kopf zur Wand, ihre Wange mit Badeschaum geschmückt, und sagte Gut, ich komme mit, aber die Auszeichnung an der Wand macht mich nicht zu Gott, denn, wie Sokrates weiss ich, dass ich nichts weiss, ich bin naiv, bin emotional, und diese Achterbahnfahrt möchte ich euch ersparen, und ich sagte es sei mir bewusst, dass dies der schleichende Anfang sei, aber jede Hauptprobe muss misslingen, damit die Premiere läuft. Wir würden einander unterstützen und für einander da sein, und wer weiss, früher oder später, vielleicht, eines Tages, werde es in Ordnung sein, und sie sagte Was, wenn es nie gut wird? Was, wenn ich verdammt und wir dem Untergang geweiht sind? Ich überlegte und antwortete schliesslich, dass von allen Personen, die ich in meinem kurzen Leben kennenlernen durfte, sie die einzige sei die immer noch zu mir Stehe, an meiner Seite sei, wie Petrus als Fels in der Brandung, und nun sei die Zeit gekommen, da genau dieser Stein in der Brandung verschoben und entrückt war, und ich ihn wieder in die richtige Position zurückbringen durfte. Nach einem Moment der Stille wandte sie sich wieder mir zu, setzte sich gerade in der Wanne hin, und ich betrachtete ihre Knochen, das Skelett, das unter ihrer Haut hervortrat, ihre kleinen Brüste, die noch vor zwei Wochen voller Leben und Freude waren, und sie sagte Ich vermisse ihn. Ich vermisse ihn so sehr. Und ich habe keine Ahnung, was nun geschehen soll. Sie legte ihren nassen, warmen Arm um meine Schultern und ich erwiderte die Geste und kümmerte mich nicht um die Seifenblasen und die Wasserflecken auf meinem T-shirt, und meine Finger berührten ihren gebrechlichen Rücken und hoffte insgeheim, mein Bruder würde von Nummer 4 zurückkehren, die Nudeln nicht versalzen, denn sie hungerte nur der Liebe wegen. Also hielt ich sie ein Weilchen länger, und der Lavendel des Badeschaumes verirrte sich wieder in meine Nase, und ich dachte, wie gut sie riecht, und für eine Sekunde hoffte ich, das Wasser würde niemals auf ihrer Haut trocknen. Aber sie liess mich los und ich stand auf, hielt ihr das Tuch bereit und sie stieg aus der Wanne. Und als sie ihre Haare sanft mit dem Tuch rieb und ich wieder Ihre schmale Silhouette im Spiegel sah, wurde mir klar, dass die Zerbrechlichkeit Ihres Körpers niemals so gemein werde wie die ihrer Seele.

Doesn't it?

Doesn’t it feel good to be grateful,

At least once in your life?

Doesn’t it feel good to be alike,

In those moments you close your eyes?

Doesn’t it suffice to know you are good,

No matter the circumstance?

Does it?

Doesn’t it soothe you to know there’s still love in your heart,

And everyone you meet

Does open up a bit.

 

Doesn’t it make you sad to order your food, your girlfriend,

Your life over the internet,

Doesn’t it enrage you to still wage that useless war against your better judgment,

Your friends, your people,

Doesn’t it?

 

And do you wish the rain to wash away that wrinkle on your forehead,

That grey hair of yours?

Does it?

 

Doesn’t that song spread its blasphemous ideals all over your brain?

And you believe that fake smile to be true,

Your gullible kind, and

Oh you pretty swell sound,

Doesn’t it?

As we were

As we were laying on the bed,

We were suddenly aware of our mortality.

And as we decided there and then

To build and structure our lives around each other,

We realised that the only way forward was the way ahead.

And as we became aware of

The space we hold in each other’s lives we decided that

We should strengthen the knot we established.

So we thought it would be okay

To linger, to resist the urge to get up and get going.

Because we knew that once we did,

We would be slaughtered by everyone who

We expected to swallow their envy.

Who said

Why are you sweating, she said,

I’m not feeling too well, he said,

You always look tired, she said.

And she leaned over the counter as she

Pressed her lips to his,

Lost her balance and dropped her mobile.

You’re quite clumsy, you know, he said.

 

And while she said that he’s sweating to death,

The world suddenly started turning

At a much faster pace, she said,

People die of unnatural behaviour,

And he looked at her in disbelief, assuring her

Not to let his guard down that easily.

You always look tired, he said.

 

And he couldn’t feel his feet on the ground

Because his nose was high up in the air,

I’ve been sitting here since I don’t know when,

So he was rather pissed off when she,

In a subtle move, locked her lips to his,

Why you keep doing that, he said.

You always look tired, she said.

 

Time is love, he philosophies,

But when you’ve run out of it

It’s either wasted or doomed, she said.

And he never minded that sweetness of hers

When she pursed her lips.

I’m not feeling too well, he said.

 

Whoever does always looks tired, she said.

Accurate

It hits you in that one second you spend

Sitting on the edge of your bed

And suddenly you feel the insignificance

Of your life burning slowly into your skin,

And you long to take that final bath,

And you secretly choose that knife of yours

That cuts into your flesh down to your bones.

 

So you stop conversing with the world and

All the other spheres that surround you

All you can do is appreciate the city-lights

That you have come to loathe and value

In all their vanity and luminous glory.

 

And you long to keep that breath in your lungs,

And you secretly choose never to exhale

while your head is up in the clouds and underwater.

 

And you lose your dignity, you lose control,

and you open that window into your soul, the night

that will embrace you in its stillness

and will never let go of you again.

Du

Du setzt dich dezent in die Mitte des Zugwagons,

wenn es auseinander bricht wird es dich zuerst treffen.

Du bist der Erste auf dem Bahngleis,

wenn der Zug einrollt, wirst du der erste darunter sein.

Du bist der Letzte, der die Stadt verlässt

wenn die Bombe hochgeht, wirst du inmitten der Leichen sein.

 

Denn du bittest deine Engel um eine Auszeit,

du betest den Göttern um ein bisschen Einsicht zu.

Du lädst die Dämonen zum Spiel ein,

denn insgeheim hoffst du auf das unendliche Seelenheil,

das dir vor siebenhundert Jahren versprochen wurde.

 

Du beobachtest die Ambulanz und merkst dir ihren Weg,

wenn die Sirene hochgeht über den Köpfen erschallt, wirst du zur Stelle sein.

Du phantasierst über Brücken und Hochhäuser und deren Luftzug,

wenn du dich runterstützt und deine Flügel ausbreitest, soll dich kein Windstoss retten.

 

Denn du bittest deine Macher um eine Verschnaufpause,

du gehst nicht auf die Knie für Mitgefühl oder Sternenstaub,

du lässt dich fallen in ein Meer aus Wehmut und Angst,

denn heimlich und stillschweigend hoffst du auf Schall und Rauch,

Asche auf deinem Haupt für sieben Jahrzehnte von nun an.

 

Du hoffst, denn du glaubst,

du bleibst, denn du frierst,

du gehst, denn du hast,

du siehst, denn du bist,

du hörst, denn du lügst,

du fühlst, denn du bereust,

du atmest, denn du lebst,

du fliegst, denn du springst,

du wirst, denn du warst,

du stirbst, denn du starbst.

Moonman

My little moonman, take me back

 

to the twelve stars, higher and higher

Got to know more chords and books

We all love to watch you come down

Bring us peace, hope and lots of good songs

 

Music is your first love, forever it will be

With no interest in becoming a politician

No interest in ruling the world on your own

„That doesn’t turn me on, oh no

Not like music does, music, every day“

 

Love you, little moonman

 

„Hey man, you’ve got the power,

We all love to have you around.

We listen to you, feed you with energy, 

Why don’t use your power righteously?“

Wake up, take that melody and please; sing!

 

You’re not just a visitor for a few days

God bless you and thank you for your arrival

How does it feel, this walk you take outside?

You learn joining us, talk like us, adapt to us,

Yet you keep the gift to see right through us

 

Love you, little moonman

 

But little moonman, where do you hide

The world is so big, there is no exit

Grace to your fame, your success

There’s no riddle left in the frame

The nation wants celebrities to caress

 

They are the hunters, always hunting

You are the huntee, always haunting,

 

Beautifully and eerily, so unlike yourself

It would be the right time to explode, implode,

Thank you for your patience with us, thank you,

 

Love you, little moonman

 

I was hoping you would go back one day,

Back to where you came from, hail from,

But you’re the perfect man on earth

To take over someone's job, take care of us

How on earth do we deserve your kindness?

 

And you're saying: „The universe is

 

anywhere I go, anywhere I lay my head,

and I never feel like being alone.“

With these words you left me, and in my heart

I know I’m never going to see you again

 

Love you, little moonman

 

Although you brought us salvation

It’s not what I’ve been looking for

I’m war’s child with a rebel heart

I know, if things had been perfect

You would've stayed here with me.

 

 

Miss you, little moonman

 

Too many years for a God-forsaken place

Please, Dear, don’t let me turn into

One of those

Who try to solve the world’s problems,

Wrecking the nation’s pride while doing so.

And please, Dear, let me stir up anger

And wrath,

Bewitching those who, with their self-

sufficient air asphyxiate those who can dream

 

And while I pray to you, offer you doubt

And shadows of tears,

I do not hesitate in piercing my skin,

The shape of the woman I don’t need to be.

And as I beg and ask for forgiveness

From you and you only,

I swallow my pride, my selfish longing

To fulfil my wishes and aspirations

And let you end my suffering.

Seven Spirits

I was drifting across the ocean of thought, hanging on to dear life

When I came upon a boat floating in open water, and there I found

Seven spirits waiting for me to come aboard and sit with them for a while.

 

The first spirit was my friend Jonathan,

Who is always on my mind when I’m under the weather,

Someone who knows me inside and out,

Someone who would never let me drown,

So why didn’t you throw me that lifeline, dear Jonathan,

When I was twenty-five and you seven years the wiser,

When you were still young and I had wrinkles to prove my age.

I asked you where we’re all heading to, headed at, and you smirked and said

“It’s all a matter of time, Dearest, until we’re eaten by the worms,

but while we’re wasting away, here on this boat,

let’s make a fire out of our wooden oars,

our legs and wooden hearts,

that would not be touched by sympathy,

by whatever emotion there is to express what we truly feel about ourselves”

and I said that I’m too scared, that I would rather talk about him for a minute.

And so he faced me, kissed me, and thus threw me over board again.

 

The second spirit was my friend Benjamin, whose name

Of all names are like sister and I, like mentor and candle,

like water and wood swaying from side to side,

and I told him that he had never looked that good

And his beating heart he carried in his hands for everyone

To easily pierce through, to rip out of his grasp and toss over board

spoke to me and said “why did you leave me, why did you leave me

when I was still a child and you, you sent me to slaughter, you

Who were my daughter, my only friend,

You tore me open and poured the ocean’s water over me,

And the salt left an itchy wound and kept me from healing”

And I tried to close my eyes and ears and it just wouldn’t stop

Speaking out to me, calling out to me. And all the tears that I shed 

 

dropped down into the big wide open and made the water more salty,

My eyes even drier and our life-long history even more rocky.

 

The third spirit I was glad to meet in the boat, of all places

I know that is the least comfy, so I was dragged out of my zone

To meet her again, and she gave me that glance to freeze the whole world over,

And spoke down to me in that condescending, tantalising voice

That would never leave my ears again: “nothing

you have ever seen or heard of or experienced or came upon or

across will always stay with you, since most things

will be forgot in the second before your world turns upside down,

and all the information you gathered over the years

could have been of such use to ghostly encyclopaedic sites,

and all the rites, all the rhythm in your heart you rehearsed for when you

imagined yourself to glimmer and glitter will be forgot as soon as you

enter that last second before the whole world freezes over”

and I could only but break down, shake my weak side

when she was the one to blame for that harsh streak,

that character of mine I could have sworn I left behind when I left home

And when I heard those trumpets bellow, that unworldly tune,

That is the moment when I ended up on that ocean in that mood.

 

“So, have you changed?" asked the fourth spirit, and I sat with her for a while.

We chin-wagged about the good oulde days when we were twelve,

When she was still blonde and I still dumb, numb, and barely at all.

When hair would start growing in the unlikeliest of places,

And she would kiss her bed-side poster’s faces,

When we were still full of imagination and dreams to behold,

And she drank out of that cup, drank that coffee on that boat

That rocked my world for so many years to unfold.

“Maybe those past ten years were a waste of time” and I confessed

That I had none of those brainy comments at my disposal,

Not confessing that she stole my life when I was fourteen,

When I was sitting on that desk, and so I took that knife and carved goodbye

Into the wood next to her thigh, and she smiled

And her crooked tooth still standing afar,

was yellow to the nerve and I rocked that boat “i zäh Jahr”.

 

The fifth spirit with flaming red hair, was the image of myself

In seven years’ time when I’d still be stuck and you'll all be bored

By this electronic networking, our strong and independent cup of tea,

And Juliet was her name, told me to stand my ground,

Never to give in cause surrender, oh yes, surrender is futile and sin,

And I asked her whether waiting for another life in exchange for mine

Would be an elegant solution to the lion fighting within me and I,

And she said that “we’re all doomed to live with and through and by

Ourselves, and every person we meet along the way is yet another story-line

to stretch and decorate our eulogy with.”

And I said that we were all cursed and purified at the same time,

That we could choose to drink from the cup or the flask,

Choose left or right, choose a card, as Tom the ferry-man had pointed out,

choose to lose, but then again, who are we losing it for?

 

So I got up, ran to the very end of the boat that rocked my life

For more than a quarter-century to find my dead sister sitting on the brim,

Ready to fall off, ready to give in and leave that shelter again,

So I grabbed her arm and chose her to be my sixth spirit on this island of mine.

She turned to me, and speaking through her black veiled hair she said

“I know you’re thinking about me seven times a day, seven days a week,

but why don’t you visit me in those places that were ours

when we were children, when we were scared to face the evil of the world?”

and I said that I was all grown up now, that life had slapped me in the face,

that I have been beaten many times to ever return to those happy days,

and she said that “nothing is too dark to never reappear, you should

never opt to make your life that easy, and if it does, then please,

forget about me; do it for my remembrance and for my safety,

but should you ever get too uncomfortable, we can always claim

that place of all places for ourselves again” and I said that

I have stopped dreaming a long, long time ago, I am all grown up now

and have embraced it in its entirety. And so she started weeping,

And her sobbing still haunts me sometimes when I close my eyes,

And I wake up from slumber, thinking she’s lying next to me.

 

The seventh and final spirit I met on that boat, on that

Rocky Road to Dublin, was my saviour, my hero, the lover of mine,

My kind of guy that would never let me down,

And I said why I am so afraid of giving with both hands

While I am waiting for you to return some of that gesture

And he said “well, I am a tatter-tale, don’t take it too personal,

I am that kind of spirit that keeps taking because you are sweet,

You are that perfect soul I would hug and cuddle and kiss,

But my words will never get through to you since you are that bell

That keeps ringing whenever someone is opening his or her mouth;

You are the noise the seven of us hear whenever you are the queen,

The queen of it all; don’t get me wrong, we still love you,

But the train has left the station, the car used up all its petrol and oil,

And you’re standing there all by yourself, keeping people at arm’s length,

and I said that my eighth spirit told me to be free,

Which means never to expect or imagine situations seven minutes

Before midnight, and most of all, I stressed and stood up

And made the boat rock even more, I knew not to be afraid anymore;

And so I took that leap of faith, jumped off the boat into the cold cold water

And kept swimming until the waves swallowed me whole.