The possibility of an implosion
I will now tell you
or warn you about the latest tendencies of an uprise
in this hive
where you would expect bees within but lately feelings have learned to fly have grown tiny insect legs
that will
make you feel the steps they take upon your skin
And insects yes well those
well those you could atleast brush away with the simple combination of handmuscles and brain
handmuscles and brain
But this?
No, you can put that vacuum cleaner back,
once swallowed in , they would anyhow continue living in that brown paper bag that has a lemon scent
to make erasing sweeter and more agreeable for your nose.
I have tried covering it
in some gallons of wall paint
but this skin is not silent as wallpaper and each scream of it
each scream for air for breath for life that I have not managed to ban from it yet
will make some spots of paint
chip off
Simply put. I am not informed about the detailled background movements
Of paint falling off.
Of paint falling off.

If you wake up one morning with your eyemakeup smeared into your eyes so that your vision of the world is

blurry and that you know it doesn't matter if you remove it or not because nobody's eyes will be layed
upon yours to tell you that the colours
are smeared beyond the lines
beyond the lines like my mother used to tell me when softly bending over my shoulder to watch my pencils
make long walks through colouring books.
( I used to have so many pencil legs , pencil feet that took me deep into away from here, now I am left with these two )
Nobody is there now to tell you that
to tell you that you have drawn beyond the borders.
That you have started drawing onto your desk
With colours from a company that goes with the name Waste ( registered trademark)
This is how years make everything change.
You could blame it on biological processes and the feelings that lately these trains have not been

leaving the station as smoothly as they once did but slightly
stumbling
over their own wheels like wondering
where they are heading to.
Do you understand what I mean?
I mean that I feel as if these machines are starting to think and they think "decay"
while I
while I the human being am left by thoughts
am lost because of thoughts once had but nobody will believe me I did
I have them written yes
But is that enough to prove their existence?
Could you promise me , after I have handed you a piece of paper, covered with words
that you have truly felt just the same feelings that my brain
has made me feel when it expelled words that could no longer
linger in my brain because those words had grown fingers that started
occasionally sticking themselves
further into my brain
from there on maybe down the spine.
I have fingers in my spine , can you believe?
They search the same sensation as I was once searching for as a child when letting my finger
run over the calm surface of water and closing my eyes of course because children
still know when the best time to close their eye is
They search right there inside my spine and make my movements occasionally seem random and my speech slurred and my speech meaningful ( shhh..meaningful..you hear? Strange just to pronounce it , no ?)
The only meaningful sentence I believe to give you at the present point is this:
I am breathing while writing this.
I can assure you this.
(Occasionally I place my left hand upon my chest , upon my skin flesh mixture covered ribcage to check.
I am very accurate.
In my methods.Not in my thoughts.Never.
And now?
Now the simple feeling of already knowing how the first contact of the soles of my feet with the cold wooden floor will feel before even making it steals away my hope of something new.
Now when I see pale sunlight.And I say pale sunlight.Because this is the only one the sky spares us these days.
My eyeballs ache.
They do.
Today I have tried after this week in solitary confinement , to let my feet speak to the pavement.
To cross some streets , to have my eyes meet some other pair of eyes and their owners ,
to closely observe how the trees look now that I have not seen them one week.
And what do I say now after this experiment?
I cannot say anything.
I feel that trying to compare past and present steals my energies.
And I watch it stuffing it all into its pockets and it is wearing a really messed up old second hand something jacket so some energy will eventually slip through holes of it
crash down on the floor
then this energy ( I cannot tell you what shape it has , really)
looks at me
and I say : there is always the possibility of returning.
And all it does is answer:
there is always the possbility of returning to something new.
This is how I lose
I lose thickness in my skin.
I lose thickness in my bone structure.
I wait.
I wait and I know exactly those I am waiting for will not answer.
I get many answers these days and I take them , yes I take them yes and I thank those who
in all their care have invented a question to go with it so I don't feel too overwhelmed.
But I can tell you this by now.
When you stand , facing a cave
of cave that has been made by waiting carving the stone in your so called substance
and you scream
and an echo slams back at you
then it is a myth if you believe that this echo will merely pass through you that the soundwaves will leave you back unhurt and unchanged
I can tell you about how echoes change everything
Because this echo means that in all these years you have not managed to fill the void
And I tell you it will dive right into you this echo
right into your mouth and dive further into your heart
soundwaves become soundneedles
Don't
send me a letter , no .
Please don't send that letter you told me you sent.
Do something, make the postoffice believe you were writing it while drunk and what you say within these lines could take someone's life
Just do something to not make that letter reach me.
Please stop to fucking imprison me.
Because i am not exactly , well not perfectly exactly that tough as I might make others believe.
Please stop imprisonning me in the past.
I cannot
cannot breathe with all this dust and I am not your nostalgia girl that will spend days
drawing shapes into the condensation stains on her window pane window pane
Don't you get it ?
I am losing it.
Ladies and gentlemen.
I will lose this.
I will now let the microphone in my hand fall.
Like this.
It will roll down the stage and we will wait a moment until the sound of its movement vanishes.
Then I will bow
and when my hair falls down and strings of it remain stuck in the corners of my mouth I will leave them there.
I have lost you.
I have lost you.
I have lost you.
Repeat buttons are
stuck in this machine.Someone should come and fix it.
I'll be gone to somewhere else till then.
I will now pack my bags.
I will now pack my bags not after the nice lists they offer you for free what to think of when going on a longer trip:
suncream and extra pullovers and raincoat and don't forget your medicine in case of illness.
I will leave those standards.
I will pack my bags with leaving you with realizing that I have lost you I have lost you
I will make my brain expell you out of it out of it so that you can read the nice message I have once written on the doormat
please
please atleast take off your fucking steelcapped shoes before entering.
Thank you.

Nova