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Description
A cigarette, bit of peace for the troubled mind, it gives my fingers something to do. I pretend I’m not trembling, just to savour the knowledge that I am.
We’re just too safe.
The way you smile at me too safe.
The way I smile back too safe. The way we make love too bloody safe.
There is just nothing bad about us, nothing disturbing. No dreams of rape, no possessiveness, no tears, no fights and no damn stolen blankets at night.
And I think that’s what put me off.
I can’t live like that, you see. I want that thrill, I want to test and maybe cross the borders between worship and self-abandonment and tease and torture. I just don’t do angels. I talked to someone who was three quarters human one quarter ghost. He was light-footed and gentle, maybe a kindred spirit, but I’m not looking for other bemused minds. So he moved on and I made my way, two homopolar magnets repelling each other.
Maybe I’m looking for some kind of demon with eyes like burning brandy drops and fingers like blades and a heart that isn’t there.

This life bores me to death.

We’re so heavy and dull, we’re so earthbound. And because the good God made a curse upon us that we must desire whatever is out of our reach we long for weightlessness. If we were weightless we would pray for our feet to touch the ground again.
We kiss, we make love and die a bit every time, words and sticks and stones make us crawl and crumble alike, we give up on pulling ourselves together altogether, we laugh and cry as we clutch yet another “beloved”, we scream and shout, we shrug our shoulders, we move on, we die.
No glory, no pathos, no purgatory.
Nothing to live and nothing to die for.
You hold me, but you don’t see me. You hold me like I’m fragile just because I’m fragile.
You’re so human that I can’t love you.

Description
A cigarette, bit of peace for the troubled mind, it gives my fingers something to do. I pretend I’m not trembling, just to savour the knowledge that I am.
We’re just too safe.
The way you smile at me too safe.
The way I smile back too safe. The way we make love too bloody safe.
There is just nothing bad about us, nothing disturbing. No dreams of rape, no possessiveness, no tears, no fights and no damn stolen blankets at night.
And I think that’s what put me off.
I can’t live like that, you see. I want that thrill, I want to test and maybe cross the borders between worship and self-abandonment and tease and torture. I just don’t do angels. I talked to someone who was three quarters human one quarter ghost. He was light-footed and gentle, maybe a kindred spirit, but I’m not looking for other bemused minds. So he moved on and I made my way, two homopolar magnets repelling each other.
Maybe I’m looking for some kind of demon with eyes like burning brandy drops and fingers like blades and a heart that isn’t there.

This life bores me to death.

We’re so heavy and dull, we’re so earthbound. And because the good God made a curse upon us that we must desire whatever is out of our reach we long for weightlessness. If we were weightless we would pray for our feet to touch the ground again.
We kiss, we make love and die a bit every time, words and sticks and stones make us crawl and crumble alike, we give up on pulling ourselves together altogether, we laugh and cry as we clutch yet another “beloved”, we scream and shout, we shrug our shoulders, we move on, we die.
No glory, no pathos, no purgatory.
Nothing to live and nothing to die for.
You hold me, but you don’t see me. You hold me like I’m fragile just because I’m fragile.
You’re so human that I can’t love you.