I

The evening rain

Keeps falling on me

I feel it

As it dissolves

My skin

My heart, my soul

 

II

How lovely the liberation

They will never have

Them, the frail

The faint-hearted

Who look at the rain

In their quadragons

From behind protective shells

Boxes to separate, to exclude

 

III

Words

A never-ending wave

Roaring

[treffer land] on my life’s beaches

Drowning me

In their ideas, their castles in the air

That can never be

Can never materialize

 

IV

And as they unite in an idea

They form a rope

Tied together with the glue of conformity

Imaginary rope

Around my neck

How did we get here?

How could it be

That an imaginary rope

Made up by

A million thoughts

Still stuck in a million

Minds

Cornered and strangled

Reality?

 

Handlekurv