no-one there

Mark left a tape he had recorded.
It was labelled " my last bugle call" and consisted of white noise and the creaking of an armchair. DNA tests revealed traces of his sperm on the tape.

lord have mercy on his modern soul !

he left his droppings hidden here and there and then assumed and expected that later someone would examine them and pass judgement over him. he visualised the scientific moustache and the steel rimmed glasses. that is the concern of the historians and biographers - NOT HIS BUSINESS !
in short he did not define himself, he was too anxious, too irresolute and too indolent

yes

yes, he saw the photos
her naked breasts, the strange look on her face
and once again,
his precepts forgotten,
he threw himself into the vortex of desire
why ?
and why not ?
as the fire tears through the bush

right and wrong

Lost in right and wrong.
He said, son that´s not right.
Since then I`m all wrong :
the good, the bad, the right, the wrong
and I stand here screaming.

love mummy

A : say you love me
B : yes
A : and just me ?!
B : my son, I am a person...
A : NO !
B : ... and I love you
A : just me, say you love just me !
B : I am a person
A : the person, who gave me life. without you I would not BE
B : you' re saying i' m just your birth machine, a means to your ends
A : mummy, I NEED YOU
B : and me, am i nothing in this world, don't i have needs, don't i have desires ? i am person, just like you. open your eyes.
A ( crying)
B : your eyes aren't for crying but for to see this world. wipe away your tears. open your eyes.
A : NO !
B : sweetheart
A : NO !! NO, NO. please don't
B : sweetie, wipe the tears from your eyes.
A : no i can't. you glued them shut; you told me I don' t exist.
B : don't talk to me like that. we'll send you to bed with no supper.
( pause)
A : how long will this go on ?
B: as long as you live, sweetie

that tiny click

was that click her door opening ?
mamma, who will take me in her arms
and whisper that everything is going to be alright !

silently

drink my tea, my conventions,
early morning, dark outside,
i eat an apple.
my head is weary.
time is inexorable, comes then goes.
i stand silently screaming :
what was, what could have been,
and the flurry of interpretations.
a sudden gust leaves them as a crumpled mess of papers in the corner of the room.
the door swings, windows bang.