getting older

you say
it doesn´t interest you
to hear in tremulous detail
that i am just a man child
why ? doesn´t it concern you ?
you say
we are all composites
of the real and the learnt
of me and them
such slippery slopes
are only good for skating
i nod in some sort of agreement

a question

i show her my pictures
i put my self in her hands, her eyes
why do i surrender myself so ?
do i think that´s the only way to exist
to be seen ?
i mean, i breathe, don´t i ?

walk in my forest

a dry leaf on the ground
its keel broken
some ribs revealed
where the flesh has been gnawed away
crackles when trod upon
let us build a castle of skulls
i am happy
and this is not an ironic juxtaposition
i look, i see
one day i will die

seawater

i take the catamaran bus
over slow gray seas
crossing murky paths of reflected sunlight
i think of the sway of her breasts
my lips, my kisses
my kitsch
fat gulls sit solo on moored boats
you´re on your own now boy
with the knowledge of good and evil