Slavery, decapitated.

under the torn and dirty nails
of immortal’s hand –
splinters dig deep,
tear long gashes
into the blinded’s bloody eye
while pus and tears
make a paste
on soot-stained bodies.

when squirming
and crawling
isn’t sufficient,
it is time
to wake
the warrior within.


Dear Time,

i know you don’t really exist and humankind only invented you because we feel the need to measure everything, but since you have been brought to existence, i would ask one thing of you…

please be more merciful.

how can it be that you always seem to happen to go by so fast when i need you to take it slow? and – of course – when i feel like you could go by more quickly, you enjoy to linger and dawdle, make me feel every second… sometimes even painfully so.
is this your revenge for us handing you the responsibility to keep the whole world in line?
i don’t really know…

maybe if we sat down together, we could work out some kind of agreement… because, really… sometimes you’re a handful.

a captive

Food for the Soul

i got lost in Jack London’s The Call of the Wild again… usually i don’t like quoting others on here – i try to avoid it as much as i can… but this, ah, it’s just too beautiful.

i can never ever get enough of this passage… thank you, Mr. London.
i want to bathe in those words… maybe some of you will understand.

Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the trees lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And the strain of the primitive remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof were his yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. And from the depths of the forest, a call still sounded.

Dear Uneasy Feeling,

you must like it in the comfortable cave of my stomach.

today, you’re like an unwanted guest… no matter how much i try to bore you, stare at my wristwatch and tell you i don’t have time for this, you won’t go away.
yes, you know i’m a polite person and i don’t like to yell… but let me tell you, i am really close to yelling at YOU.

so, consider this your last polite warning. if you’re not gone soon, i’m going to get the broom.

the annoyed landlady

If we only remembered!

if this sentence was imprinted on the inside of our eyelids in neon letters, maybe we’d finally be able to calm ourselves in times of fear.
i wish it could be done, there is nothing worse than being so scared that you’re not able to think straight. i wish i could remember… whenever i enter that place.

photo credits:

Smile, here comes the Hammer…

isn’t it cruel how memories can sneak up on you sometimes and hit you full-on in the face?
that just happened to me. ugh.
one moment you’re doing fine, everything’s wonderful and comfortable and then… BAM! you’re taking a blow to the head and find yourself with your butt on the ground wondering what the hell happened.

i think the past 3 years just hit me. sneaky bastards. wow, that was a bad time.
i am happy to say that this part is over now.
still hurts, but i guess that’s okay.

Impressions on the Subway


a passing smirk on a youthful face
reflection of a well-worn sweater in the glass
a hug goodbye
biting nails while reading an old paperback novel
shades being taken off
a sigh followed by an uneasy look at the wristwatch




two different worlds
in a matter of seconds.

The Chameleon

the chameleon was in hiding.

a lifetime went by
staying below the radar

the chameleon
lost and alone
for no one
had ever been allowed to see
the chameleon’s true colors.

photo credits:

Dear Toilet Paper,

how grateful i am you exist.

whether it’s in times of dire need, to blow our noses, for our children’s entertainment or for our pets to chew on… you are always there.
you never complain, although you seem to happen to encounter precarious situations quite often… and let’s not forget, you manage to endure unique (and disturbing) sights. a lot of them.

i felt like giving you credit for what you do for us, because you seem to be forgotten quite often. i think it has to do with you being closely involved with our rear ends – and that, not many people like to talk about.
i thank you for your services, whether you’re fluffy or are having a rough day… it’s been a while since i found you absent and i appreciate your punctuality and reliability.

i hope you will never quit your job and leave us with more rudimentary methods.

a satisfied customer


countless faces
a mask for every moment
always changing
you show the world
what the world wants to see.
you never show your core.
you buried yourself
long ago.

if you looked into the mirror
would you know who you are?

photo credits: unknown

The Art of Getting Along

it’s a thin line sometimes… getting along with someone.
the more complicated the relationship is, the higher your expectations get – for some reason. maybe to make the plunge deeper when you fail in order to fully enjoy your failure. i don’t know… must be something like that.
when you know you don’t get along with someone, you approach them carefully every time you meet.
but sometimes even that isn’t enough. if they want to find something, they find something. end of story.

it’s been like this for a couple of years now, and – despite my intentions – i can’t seem to get it to work. i guess i just have to be okay with the fact, that some people feel better when they can declare themselves the victim. which makes me the bad guy…

i don’t know if i will ever be fully able to accept the bad guy position… because this sure does not make me feel better… but i might as well accept it, because it seems i have no choice in the matter anyways.

it could be so easy… i guess not everyone likes the easy way though.

Dear Post-It,

a member of your family died today. my deepest condolences.

you know how much i love to use you and your cousins, aunts and uncles for my enjoyment… i write quotes that i like on your colorful surfaces and stick them to my front door… that way, i can always lay eyes on you before i have to leave the house. i enjoy your family’s services very much.

i know you, too, get older… and die eventually. the cycle of life.
this is what happened today. i think it was your aunt (the post-it was pink), she couldn’t hold on any longer and fell down. she lived a long life.

i am sorry for your loss and i have to say that it isn’t easy for me to see her go… but i figured it was her time.
please be assured that she will have a proper burial. i loved her, too… very much.

you, your family and friends will always be welcome to try a spot at my front door… it is a happy and meaningful life, i promise.

thank you so much for understanding and again, i am sorry for your loss.
she was wonderful.

best wishes,
your aunt’s mourner

The Disadvantage of having Ideas…

… in the shower.
i am sure i’m not the only one experiencing this on a frequent basis. ideas always happen to come along while you’re in the shower, usually when you just started. one of the few times where you can’t get to a notepad and pen right away.

so you repeat them to yourself – over and over – and speed up the cleaning routine to get out of there and in range of a pen. not a pleasant way to take showers – i usually love them, they’re so relaxing.

i considered taping a couple of plastic bags to the inside of my shower door and put a permanent marker next to my shampoo… but i won’t do it. for one thing, it’s weird… and for some reason, i fear that the ideas will cease to come to me, should i do it. would just be too easy then.
ideas, deceitful little ‘creatures’ they are…

please someone hurry up and invent that waterproof paper already!!

photo credits: internet