donderdag 21 augustus 2014

sea-food for the beasts in the forest

                                                  Since she there is not much left
                                                  of my image of me

                                                  My already hollow image of me
                                                  where since times – at all times – I was intimate

                                                  was exasperatingly slowly further hollowed out
                                                  by the lye of the dialogue


1
1.
The naked body lies
the bars bent

Question marks carefully drawn on the back of old calendar sheets
when the spring, and the autumn

The naked body sleeps
rinses there, looks

Answers smile
not sad

slightly bitter, tu sais,
with a strange accent

2.
Get rid of the calendar
at the bottom of deep cabinets incompetence is covered with mildew

The dangers of yellowed date lie
with the ease of being right

Now they are trump cards
sought on every black market

Now they are trump cards
sought by every expired teenager


2
It is because I exist on the ruins of a past not realized
that I am barely connected to my existance
A glance, a kiss, I love you. What is keeping you?
Why are you not lying where I can come and lie with you without the little smile?

The little smile that promises what never will be
The little smile that stretches itself on time
The little smile that stiffens the caressing fingers, since the sex ticks
by the grace of artificially generated tensions


3
Melancholy
Flambé melancholy
kindled with the fire of my bygone youth

My withered skin
that yearns for the belly that touched my side
And did not and did and did not

The control conducted by my overfed past
on my parched-bloomed flesh
that yearns to be understood

that yearns to experience whatever is permissible
within the boundaries of a boundless lust


4
I milk a cow who is becoming increasingly lean;
keep rubbing them warm,

the half-said thoughts
the shallowly sighed responses

Would she still want it or not?
I add and distract

One step towards that side and the head turned
Or no, does she go to the other side?

Or yes, it was after all ... no it was not

Or yes. Or maybe. Or

sleepdeprived nights
as the heat makes amok

in the belly, my belly
that increasingly refuses to go along


5
My lust threatens to dry up
Not equipped for what is expected of me
I am at times utterly quenched

I still am dissatisfied with the fickleness of time
Again and once more conquering the resistance anew
Again and once more studying the winds anew
and understanding them anew

My body seems to be shrouded in mystery language
unarticulate sounds which, however, are polished
as a mirror for those who give them their attention
for longer than an accidental moment

And does this not equally apply to my words?
Has is not always been so
that what people thought I thought
made a stronger impression on them than what I said?

My lust threatens to dry up
I feel as weak as a newborn
The feeling of an ugly twitching scar at the back
and a gaping wound in front


6
She will be here soon, she called
And here I am not staring blankly
No dry throat because of held breath

Nor am I already composing an opening statement
Or are my armpits moist from premeditated efforts
Oh she has a lot to do with my existance

And the threads that turned out to be too weak ––
and therefore promptly snapped
don't they look a lot stronger now?


7
Who is that face in that photograph,
it can't possibly be me?
The features no doubt are there allright
but the black is so black
I cannot see through

Yesterday the world was round,
my skin was white
Where was love yesterday?
Today no song fills my brain
no feeling my feeling

There is a staring serpent on my back
who wraps around my shaky neck
and bows it down down down
Together we kill time
feast on the umpteenth moment that brings me nothing

Like the story of Cara Cointreau and Cocaine Candy
is my story
A very short story it is:
Cara and Candy
fell in love


8
I was nervous. My heart was pounding terribly. Before. Not after. I moved silently
My hand was flapping for a moment. Apart from that I stood casually
My skin hung casually around my bones. Not tense
And when I started to speak the pounding of my heart stopped

I could easily speak. Easily a few words that I wanted to ventilate and no more
And there was no voice in my head that whined this and this you forgot to say
After she had left
Also no voice that whined that and that you better would not have said

I do not remember exactly what I said. Mostly I remember this literally
Now it is the way she sat that stuck. Not what I said. Or what she said
I said you better go away. And she said yes. Whereupon I made clear away, finished-away
To which she said ... No. I do not remember, it was a question

I think you are not nice. That was my answer
Yes, then she said something about one way traffic. That was the next question she asked
I cannot say exactly was my answer to that question, it is not
an obvious this or that, but as a whole I think you are not acting nice

Then she shrugged her shoulders
And before she went out the door she looked me in the eye. She had tears in her eyes
No, rather around her eyes. And I looked her in the eye. I had no tears in my eyes
I was standing relaxed. I did not want to stop her

Immediately after she was gone, I took a look in the mirror
I tried to hold the expression of my final look at her
I looked at my face and I did not think. No, I did think
Exactly what I do not remember, it was one of my flash thoughts

I mainly looked at my mouth. Which was unrecognizable
But she mostly looked at my eyes
Naturally, my eyes in the mirror were different eyes than my eyes that looked at her


9 i am just as well someone
                            1.
                            She is special
                            But frustrated
                            Yes. Unhinged

                            2.
                            I understand it. Yes
                            I understand it completely
                            But to be precise
                            I am put offside
                            I drive on I understand it
                            But eventually I stand offside

                            3.
                            That is how I can deal with her
                            By understanding it
                            And to be there for her, I was okay with being engaged with it

                            Until it so happens that I finally come to the point
                            where I do understand but no longer can be motivated
                            To be engaged with it
                            I am fed up
                            Abruptly perhaps
                            Could be
                            In a flash I am pressed in my position
                            Is how it can work

                            4.
                            I hear yet another variation of the same role
                            roll from my mouth
                            Can fill in exactly what is coming
                            What she will bring in
                            It has become nothing more
                            than one repetition exercise after another
                            Can listen to her
                            And look at her
                            That is not enough
                            Then I leave
                            I cannot help it
                            I am just as well someone
                            Is being ignored
                            Is being steam rolled

                            5.
                            And all in all it is not so strange
                            to come to a point of I am fed up
                            I will no longer listen and look
                            And I will no longer talk
                            Such is to be expected
                            I will no longer talk
                            Also not to explain why I do no longer talk
                            I can't
                            As if I am composing a press release
                            In order to sell myself to her
                            Is not how it works

                            6.
                            She is focused on this
                            Something is not right
                            Yes. She is focused on this
                            She is also getting punched in the head
                            Because she wants to find an exit
                            But one way or another, she cannot find it

                            7.
                            But I think she should keep it a bit clean
                            All the same she should have some attention for my position
                            Think that she may consider my position more seriously

                            Eventually she crawls into bed with me
                            And then I assume she has it a bit clean
                            Not so

                            8.
                            Well it all ends up on me
                            So I end up in a waiting position
                            Find this annoying
                            I am waiting
                            For when asked she is not with me
                            Because when asked she is not with me
                            I have to take all the initiatives
                            Do not find this pleasant
                            To demonstrate this coercive and intrusive behavior

                            I take it as a first to at least get some clarity
                            But she does not want any dramatics
                            Neither do I
                            Neither do I want those
                            But do get overstuffed with all the dramatics that she has with others

                            9.
                            And I must be extra careful what I say
                            Otherwise I am advocating my solo interests. Yes
                            To be precise, there is not much I can say
                            without the chance of being being accused
                            that I am advocating my solo interests
                            Because she and I is just my interest
                            Of course it is not

                            Well I have had more than enough of this shit
                            To be the one who understands it
                            and except for that to constantly create the impression
                            that there is nothing going on between us
                            Is too much

                            10.
                            Like when she projects intentions in which I do not have any part
                            I just do not exist
                            She focuses on a world where I do not exist

                            And from one moment to the next it rotates radically
                            And suddenly I become the center of her existence
                            Then she focuses on a world where only I exist
                            Nobody but me
                            So final, it is just as well not possible to deal with

                            11.
                            I have zero point zero input
                            She decides how or what
                            Eventually she runs the show
                            It must come from her
                            Otherwise, she clams up
                            Then I intrude while she has her thoughts on something important. Yes
                            Thus, she can assume she is stupid and crude
                            Thus, she can conclude that she is stupid and crude
                            She does not understand it
                            But. I understand it completely
                            So I become stupid and crude
                            To let her notice I do not like it
                            But this she does not understand

                            12.
                            Yes
                            Finally standing up for myself
                            Choosing myself and not her
                            That it is necessary that I do something like this
                            Is not really unexpected
                            Not really abruptly
                            Yes
                            Because I have often talked with her
                            About how I understand it
                            Yes
                            She once asked me if I thought she was too selfish
                            Or egocentric
                            And I said I understand it
                            Ultimately I understand it to perfection
                            but this does not mean I am not becoming aggressive
                            I noticed. I was becoming aggressive. Did not want that
                            So this is what I said I notice I am becoming aggressive and
                            I want to keep this down
                            Yes
                            That I rather not see her any more
                            Well this she understood
                            And after that she was all present for an instant
                            But the whining about her hassles with others does not stop
                            That continues
                            There is simply no end to that

                            13.
                            I just as well do not object
                            Sure she can talk about others
                            I have no objection to these people
                            Maybe I think they are not colorful enough
                            This is not what she thinks
                            She finds these people too colorful
                            I think she is more colorful
                            said it once I find you more colorful

                            I do object
                            that ultimately these others determine my position
                            These people are the only thing she talks about
                            Even if she is in my bed
                            Then something stops
                            Then I leave

                            14.
                            Solo I fill it in
                            Solo I fill in so much
                            Too much
                            Then it stops
                            Is how it works

                            A cold bloodless affair
                            That is what it is
                            Cannot go on

                            By showing I understand it
                            I can let on that I am fond of her
                            And except that I can zero point zero
                            Cannot go on
                            Then it stops

                            15.
                            She once said I know no passions
                            While I saw that she was boiling inside
                            And I still see this. That she is boiling inside
                            But when she wants to express herself she stiffens
                            First sighs for which she needs the air of the whole room
                            And then stiff
                            Yes. Stiff

                            When I talk to her about this she does confirm this
                            She is focused on this
                            That she can see this
                            That I have this sort of effect on her
                            Here she is concentrating on
                            And I really do understand it all
                            But if apart from this there is no breakthrough
                            where the shit does this get me

                            16.
                            To be clear, it is a ridiculous situation
                            Everything has to be random
                            Everything must seem accidental
                            No dates
                            Because otherwise it might have the appearance
                            that perhaps between us something is going on

                            Every encounter is reduced to one or other accident
                            While if it really had been left to chance
                            after the first encounter I would have encountered her never more

                            17.
                            Yes. It has become too problematic
                            It has become too problematic
                            Is how it stops

                            It is as if she is beating around a burning bush
                            This is it
                            She is beating around a burning bush

                            There is no burning bush
                            Yes. Because she is beating around it
                            therefore there is a burning bush
                            Yes. Because she is beating around it
                            therefore there is a burning bush
                            But there is no burning bush

                            18.
                            Then she comes with flowers
                            She is ashamed and laughs
                            But the smell of this city
                            holds too much power over her
                            to be able to yes me
                            as only a body can

                            And her body says no
                            And her mouth talks about issues
                            that only indirectly affect her
                            (and me not at all)
                            and about other matters she is silent
                            or she mumbles, out of voice

                            19.
                            There is no burning bush
                            But because she is beating around it
                            therefore there is a burning bush

                            Because she is beating around it
                            therefore there is a burning bush


10
This thing I have hanging here
this thing is not mine
Not mine any more

When it still was mine I did not know I that had it
Now I know that I have it
Very well

So well, that it makes me smaller than this thing
This happens more often with things that you have
that is clear

But about this I do not have to worry;
except for this thing I have nothing
And this thing is not mine any more


11
A smile and also this mistake is forgiven
Is not a shaky psyche the consequence of
a fate only directed by the supreme director
and accountable only where
words are without sound and gestures are theatrical?


12            It is cold and dark. I cannot go on through the mud. I can no longer continue to let the flow of events drag me along. This I must change

                Too long I have stayed aloof. This is the source of my misery. This I must change

                I try to think. I try to forget that there are no more words. Nothing spoken, noting written, noting sung. Except by sick minds

                I try to think. I try to forget it. I forgot it. This is a new day. I have convinced me it is a new day!

                I think I also I also. I admit, cautious but still; I cannot turn it around any more. I confess that there is an area in me that craves to be explored. I admit
                that this is an area that defends its secrets with mean forces

                I note that I know great pains, question marks and small triumphs. I note that I endure the great pains because of the vague promise that one day it will
                be small pains, the question marks because of the vague promise that one day it will be exclamation marks and that I settle for small triumphs because
                of the vague promise that one day I will know major triumphs. I wonder when and by whom have these vague promises been made?

                I try to think. I try to forget that there is the question when and by whom have these vague promises been made? I have to forget it. I forgot it. I have
                convinced me I forgot it


13
A bundle of muscles, packed
in fast brands, handles
this evening the atmosphere
Hired for a reasonable price

and rather exclusive,
at least for this time of night. In a different setting
there have already been quite some experiments
with this repertoire

but this is set aside for the moment;
what is not in sight does not cause a fright
is the repetition of a still
not conclusive reasoning

Oh again not listened to
the wind that skims over the table
Again my state of disservice
converted into a nice rap


14
Cupboards full of food as tangible danger
Purchased to bribe
With gentle pressure
Unstoppable and accurate


15            It is cold and dark. I cannot go on through the mud. I can no longer continue to let the flow of events drag me along. This I must change

                I must withdraw from the physical. I must look at me like new. I must realize that I do not know it

                And I realize that I do not know it. Because there are too few healthy impulses and there is too much of a recall of old shocking pulses. There is too
                little faith in gradualism. There is no continuity. And there is too much grip


16
Cruising in diluted water
Birthing pains

pseudopregnant strongholds
Prima donna of the high word

trapped
Greenhoused flower

viewed worrisomely
and cherished by dead hands

Jagged edges burn
Brown fire


17            I am confronting her without communicating. I talk to her for the purpose of  kneading her. So that kneaded and again and again kneaded, she better
                and longer continues to satisfy my need for confrontation

                I need it, to project on her feelings of discomfort in myself. To thus make them visible for myself

                I have a deranged obsession to synchronize the experience and the analysis. And have them on one plane

                Growth is confused with breaking down everything to nothing; tabula rasa as pure form. As if the past does not exist. Doubt about the right to exist
                obviously. Totally drowned in the feeling to be undesired on this earth probably

                Outwards I am increasingly aggressive and inwards still nihilistic


18
The triumphal trip through lonely archways
that whisper about being sweet

Coquettish hedges
Altruism as a last resort

Aggressive action as guardian
of the not known identity


19            Again restless. Again muckraking. Again crypto dramas in vacuum packaging. How does this feel?

                Like burning sand. That I quickly extinguish with reassuring words and an adjusted dose of vanity. A convincing dose

                I am getting my ears used to my new sound system. Time flies. I get lost again

                Again I sigh when does the mud stop? Ah I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me! But what can I do? Should I believe that invisible wires connect the
                disoriented mind of her with the disoriented mind of me? Should I surrender to such a romantic deception?

                Confessions. I want to make confessions. What could I confess? I remember the bumbling in the confessional, followed by the murmur of the forbidden
                finger in the sugar bowl. So now I mumble something about impaired sensations by weakened nerves

                I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me

                There is an area in me that craves to be explored. The area in me that is defending its secrets with mean forces. Here I stumble in this area

                I also a human, a mass human

                I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me. I am happy

                I believe in glass. My heart beats over the measure. Stop


20
My inner struggle takes place
on unlocalized battlefields

And after highly paid consultations
with all the generals of arcane knowledge

it is still the subversive elements
that keep my fire going


21            I attach excessive importance to my misery. Expectation proves to be vitalizing tension and fulfillment proves to be volatile and not very stable value.
                This I must change

                My attempts to integrate my genders radiate the dubious smell of badly conserved socialization mottos. This I must change

                The herenow is brushed off with a tight smile above a frozen mandible. This I must change


22
Dry tears and blind eyes
Quiet hours filled with ―
if I want to see it positively
impenetrable meaningful significances

A full head and an empty mouth
Stickers from the past ―
to which miraculously
also some present clings

Ha, it is kind of bugging me and I feel
less than optimal through this whole thing
What thing? Well this thing
of closer and so further and further away


23            I must be silent. I talk. I see me. Talking to convince; the word dissolves in the standing, the word dissolves in the sitting. Ah, little impressive!

                I must be silent. I talk. I see me. Fidgeting with the hands, skittish the eyes; the word dissolves in apologies. Ah, misty!

                I must talk. I must no longer remain withdrawn from the physical, but I must dive into the physical again. And I see my confused heating function with
                poorly timed intervals. I see my desire being rewarded with red cheeks

                Ah, silence! Sit quietly. I must realize that I do not know it

                And I realize that I do not know it. For there is distrust about the sizes used for measuring. There is too little grip to be able to let critique in. The
                already conquered territory is safe and the unknown is too unknown. And there is fear

                Ah, silence! Sit quietly. I must think. I have to deserve the lines on my face. I need to roll up my double tongue

                I am happy; I also a human, a mass human


24            But the mean forces continue to harass me. In my sleep they overpower me and I get lost again; they paralyze my will, they make me dependent, they
                make me waste my time with waiting

                Completely light and warm or completely cold and dark, appears time and again to be my style. But the form of completely light and warm is not fixed

                Here lies the beginning of a chain of reactions. Because the shape is drifting, I operate through decency-behavior. To which she is not sensitive.
                Because the shape is drifting, I operate through smooth solutions. To which she is not sensitive

                Why do I settle for decentcy-behavior and for smooth solutions? I settle for quasi because quasi can be viewed from the brain and because quasi
                illustrates the illusion. Also, I settle for quasi because there is something in me that is not fed. What is this something in me that is not fed? Or is it, that
                this something in me is not touched by her? Is it, that she does not reach this something in me?

                Therefore my doubts. Because there is the question is it, that she does not reach this something in me? Therefore the doubts that make me uncertain.
                About my motives. About my wishes. And therefore the doubt that prevents me to think about what this something in me is, that is not being reached

                Ah, mean forces!

                Mean forces operate through her. She paralyzes my will, she. She makes me dependent, dependent on her. She makes me waste my time with waiting,
                waiting for her

                I need to be able to be passive, without it being immediatly completely cold and dark. But then I have to stop supposing every time, that the state of my
                head and the state of my body are just the doing of the One. The One does not exist, I know that

                Ah, take leave!

                From the first moment of encounter I have to tear myself loose; the virus of security that has nestled itself in my brain must be eliminated

                What is there against immediately disconnecting as soon as it does not feel mine? My life is not worth living if  I cannot be loved by the One. The One.
                She

                Since many years I have been learning how to dance to the beat of the frustrations of the other. My dearest, she. I realize that I do this with my own
                selfish hope to encounter my own beat. So that the dance will dance of its own

                Why do I not dance to the beat of my own frustrations? I do not dance to the beat of my frustrations, because I do not recognize that I would have
                frustrations

                But unchanged no dance that dances of its own. And after each dance – after each difficult danced dance –  I remain abysmally behind. And I know me
                the frustrated. I know that I am the one who wants to suffer. The one who thinks who suffes learns. Who thinks who learns lives. Yes, suffering I feel
                alive

                Ah, frustration!

                But because my voice was not heard, my confessions sounded weak. So okay. If no one else listens to me I must listen to me. And I hear me, I hear my
                anger

                Okay I must analyze. Okay I must analyze me. And I analyze my anger

                My anger always has a double tongue. And a third tongue: 1. 2. 3. Angry. Guilt. Love. 1 and 3 come from ideas and 2 arises from a feeling. This feeling
                is expressed by means of a request for forgiveness; therefore 1. By the forgiveness of a someone who is creditworthy my existence is being confirmed;
                therefore 3

                Time and again there is doubt as to my motives immediately after the act. The act of approaching with negative consequences, rejection

                Because I am wondering heart? Because my underlying question is what is this? Because my underlying question is do I have this? Therefore,
                a dearest. Therefore she

                Except for heart I know it. This is my idea of ​​me. Except for heart I know it. Heart is what a precious must give me. This is why she is allowed in, so
                I learn what heart is. Give and take, a proper balance. Therefore I always surrender totally. Therefore I had to realize that I do not know it

                But the theme is not doubt about the sincerity of my heart, the theme is doubt about the sincerity of my act. This is the doubt that makes me uncertain


25
She erects border marks
At the most unexpected moments
Where I bump into

What does she accuse me of?
That I do not ignore these border marks?

She erects border marks
At the most unexpected places
Where I bump into

What does she accuse me of?
That I do not take full advantage of the space allotted to me?

Only by acting perfectly we walk hand in hand sometimes
Despite her, she punishes the slightest carelessness
This, I hold against her


26            If I am relaxed she transmits too relaxed, she transmits that I bulldoze over the gravity of the situation. When I am tense she transmits too tense, she
                transmits that I burden the situation. In the deed she transmits. With her body

                I want my obsession with her to end. The One does not exist, I know that. I want to say goodbye

                What is there against realizing that when something is not inside, it can never come out? What is there against realizing that no hope is unlimited? What
                is there against not putting every part of me in dispute for a change? What is there against immediately disconnecting as soon as it takes an effort?

                Something. What?

                It is true that she is the complete externalization of my inner self. Ah, too insane!

                It is true that she immediately responds with a negative action to my every doubt. Ah, too frightening!

                Why do I keep on associating with her? Do I keep on associating with her from the idea that I should be capable of associating with her? There are
                several ways of effort. If anxiety is being aroused in me – fear challenges me. Fear makes me attack. It is seldom that I make contact with her from a
                positive need. More often I contact her from bruised pride, from a calculation with time, or certainly from the negative need for a fresh misery fix

                I know I am one who thinks misery is intensity. This I must change

                I have conquered land in the area in me that craves to be explored. I have to be careful. Stop

                And then I spontaneously get an insight

                I visualize the last time that I was lying on a bed next to a man. Although he knows my reputation, his wishes are clear: he wants to go further with me
                than to hold my hand and kiss me. I do not want to go further. I like to lie here like this, I know him and I trust him. And I have the situation under
                control. Because I knowingly and decidedly have made my choice to end my bedexperiments with men

                He has no knowledge of my crystallized position and circumstances could easily be interpreted in a way that the outcome will be more in line with his
                wishes. This makes him tense, but the cards already have been dealt; I do not take any initiative, I only respond to the little that he undertakes. Cause
                and effect

                The positions are clear. He is threatened, he realizes that he may be rejected by me. He exposes himself and I hold my cards to my chest. Cause and
                effect. This is how it works for people at a certain stage, when it is clear that one human being wants something from another human being – and what
                is wanted has a different weight for each of the two ​​– it creates a situation of threat, who requires is the threatened and who has to offer is the
                unchallenged

                Yes this is how it works for people at a certain stage

                My mental activity continues. I imagine that what is sought has a different value for each of the two only in the surface layer. That there appears to be
                forces at work – forces of attraction and forces of repulsion – that escape the logic of cause and effect. That despite my knowingly and decidedly and
                choice I strongly react to him. That despite my knowingly and decidedly and choice I have no grip on my reactions, I do not take the initiative, I
                respond contradictory to the little that he undertakes; I do not know him, I do not trust him – convinced as I am that I do not want it. Cause and effect
                become detached from the reality of the moment, as with her. The situation winds every which way, as with her

                Therefore, with her, the chain of reactions must be interrupted over and over again; over and over again a distance must be reinstalled to over and over
                again be placed back in the reality of the moment. Once more I must forget the insults. Once more I must realize that I provoked these by my uncertainty,
                that I provoked these by my inability. Once more I must realize that I need the detour to see me, to hear me, to encounter me

                Also for her a distance must be reinstalled, so she can shift her limits, shift her choice. In order to achieve a freer choice with regards to her desires. And
                for the person who awakens these desires. I. A free choice for me

                A choice from the reality of the moment. Because the reality of the moment has no closed expectations, no presumptions and no threat. A choice from
                the reality of the moment. Because in the reality of the moment the body rules

                Ah yes, I believe!

                I must not believe, I must stick to reality. My reality does know closed expectations, does know presumptions and does know threat. And is my reality
                ruled by the body? My body? Her body?

                I must stop. I have to be careful. I need to analyze

                If there is a threat, it is not the other who is threatening; it is the feelings that the other evokes that are threatening. In a closed expectation, these
                feelings are molded to the familiar, to make these feelings less mysterious and less frightening. Except the past I have nothing to fear. The past as it is
                stored in my brain. This past reveals itself through presumptions. Until this past is pulverized presumptions continue to put in their bits. The more this
                past is pulverized, the more these presumptions are cleared

                Where will I most likely succeed in healing the pains from my past, for once and for ever. If the body makes contact, in the bodycontact. I am inclined
                to think in the bodycontact. Why I am inclined to think in the bodycontact?

                I am inclined to think in the bodycontact, because through the bodycontact who someone is wants to be known. Someone seems unable to give a form
                to a need of the body in which the body recognizes itself. The body blocks, stiffens and cramps. If the body blocks, who someone is blocks, the values
                collected in the past are contrary to who someone is. Who someone is is going into battle; values are shifted, the past is a bit pulverized and someone
                becomes a tiny bit freer

                In this sense, the body is a truth detector, because if the body is at ease, who someone is is in her place. My body pulls to her. And no form of
                relationship follows, in which my body finds peace: blockade. Because the past dumped its waste on the road between I-want and I-can the road is
                blocked. Who I am is going into battle, values ​​are shifted, the past is a bit pulverized and I become a tiny bit freer

                The mood that comes after a blockade is a breeding ground for insight. Stop. Muteness. Research. Insight. The body makes her demands. On this earth
                my body is the house in which who I am wants to feel at home. Who I am will only feel at home when my body functions

                Once under the spell of an attraction my body stays active, it wants more. Fear exudes an odor that my brain cannot resist; it will excite. A threat will
                keep on fascinating me because my rest is disturbed. Dust is blown up. Muteness. Cleaning follows. Insight

                Until who I am ceases to stir uneasily in my body, my brain will be activated, my brain will be forced to clean up the values that prevent my body from
                feeling at ease – as the body makes contact

                What if the lust makes contacts? The lustcontact. How likely is it that I, for once and for ever, will heal the pains from my past the lustcontact? Why am
                I not inclined to believe in the lustcontact?

                Because the need of my lust is only is a part of the needs of my body. Because the lust makes different demands. The lust may have a preference for
                sizes and colors and smells, but the lust knows no values. The lust has no memory, the lust remembers only when she wakes up, as she sleeps she is
                silent. The lust has no conscience, the lust knows no shame, the lust knows what she wants. Because the past is eliminated as the lust makes her
                demands, the past cannot be pulverized by the lustcontact

                In the bodycontact will I most likely succeed in healing the pains from my past, for once and for ever.  If the body makes contact then by finding a
                proper form for the needs of the body, there is a chance for happiness.

                There is a chance for happiness!

                Ah, I believe!


27
Still too fragile
The rules still lost
The trumps have been taken out of my hands
Quiet I sit here

Non activity
Inspirations from the remotest past
exorcise me – they try
promise me recovery

I have surrendered
It seems if I wait
But improvement has become empty
and I am overwhelmed by a strange peace

An unknown stillness
I am, I get my share
I am
I get my share


28            Seeing nothing I rock on the rhythm of the question marks. The questions that keep on shifting, keep on sinking. In the unfathomable depths of the
                matterless echo chamber

                I get sad every time. Because the young girl's dream turns out two-dimensional every time; up and down and more and up

                Why do disappointments continue to be much tougher every time, than the satisfying parts?

                I try to think. I try to pick the freshest question. Why would I necessarily believe that the key could be found in the body contact? I try to think. I 
                must try not to forget that there is also the next question when and by whom is it told that the key could be found in the body contact?

                I make a confession. I confess what I experience. I confess that I desperately want to believe yes but I experience no. I confess

                There remains nothing. Nothing. Bottomless. No idea. Bottomless. An abyss, a yawning abyss. Bottomless

                Is this perhaps the pool of the heart? Just jump?

                That is what I would want

                There remains nothing. Nothing

                I am still alive


29
A glimpse into the gray living room of my past
Sometimes there was a garland, and I looked at it
and clapping the hands, I also had learned by now
So every once in a while it had all the appearances of a party
and I grabbed it with gusto, but

Who can I hold responsible for
my whisper-existence of almost thirty years?
Who for the tears today, now that like a newborn I
have been written up in the registers of no man's land?

Girl X, orphan by rebirth
Do I have sisters? Do I have brothers? Yes, but
my legs are shaky and my arms are too short to
be able to embrace
I am small, embrace me

And I am scared too
if you really want to know


30            I write her a letter. I write that I never have forced myself upon people. I write that it does not come easily to me to claim people. I write this also applies
                to you. I write to say yes to me means that you say yes to me. I write and I do not know if you can do this. I hesitate. I change can to want; I write 
                and I do not know if you want to do this. I hesitate. I change can to can and want; I write and I do not know if you can and want to do this. I 
                hesitate. I change can and want to want and can; I write and I do not know if you want and can do this. I hesitate

                My tears linger behind the cornea of ​​common sense. My tears harass my language into a story that makes its question marks sparkle in dozens of
                colors. My tears throne high above me

                I write our nights are more difficult to describe than our meals

                Ah, bis for a comedienne! Bis!

                I need to roll up my double tongue

                Such a silence

                Okay I must look. Okay I must look at her. And then And then I spontaneously get an insight

                From the assumption that the attitude of caregivers towards the child –– And when different natures –– Then –– The nature of the caregivers on the
                one hand and the nature of the child on the other –– and the conflict that can arise here –– Then – The ultimate love expectation that the child gets
                conditioned –– The ultimate love behavior –– If ––

                I imagine a pair of elders and a child. The nature of the child is different from that of the elders; the actions of the elders call forth unexpected reactions
                in the child. The elders do not understand the child; the child is alien to them. Because the elders interpret that their loving attitude is questioned by the
                child, they feel attacked by the child. But they position themselves as the oldest and the wisest of the two parties and time after time forgive the child
                and time after time give the child attention and each time more attention

                I imagine that, because a behavior that is normal to the elders does not reach the child, they – on or below the surface layer – suspect that the child
                needs an exceptional approach. And that the elders camouflage the misunderstanding by giving attention, because this provides them with an argument
                behind which they can hide their inability. They say we give the child so much attention but it remains unmanageable. They think we are not to blame

                I imagine that the child flawlessly records this inability and the uncertainty of the acts deriving from it. And that from the human yearning for contact the
                child will continue to demand attention. And that the parents, because they – on or below the surface layer – feel guilt, will continue to give attention

                I imagine that now the period starts in which the child has come to age. And the elders get courage again. They guess now the child will prove
                amenable to reason; to the child they now can comment their failing behavior and in their ears their arguments sound more reasonable than they are.
                Even though they convince themselves at times and the action to the child becomes aggressive at times. And then, for the first time, the parents are
                convincing in their doing. So their behavior does affect the child and the child experiences contact and the child is happy

                Then, I imagine, starts the period that the child has already picked up how to behave to please. And the elders watch it with joy. They think finally
                justice. But they remain wary and every slip of the child calls back all the earlier worries. And more and more and faster and faster their behavior
                switches to aggression

                I imagine that because the inability is real the aggression is real, which makes that the bond becomes reall, which means that the bond becomes close; in
                behaving the child knows – on or below the surface layer – itself isolated and in aggressivity the child knows – on or under the surface layer – itself
                secure

                Now from the assumption that the relationship caregivers-child conditions the love-behavior in the child, I imagine that here a condition arises of
                A. being accustomed to be the center of attention, getting a lot of attention, if not soft willingly than hard willingly, and B. rather hard willingly, because
                this provokes aggression and this shows for real that the love is real

                And I know a little satisfaction. But I do not realize what I understand. Because I think I understand it objectively I do not realize what I understand. So
                unchanged no dance that dances of its own. Unchanged bottomless, bottomless knowing. Unchanged the frustrated, suffering alive


31
1.
Watercolors in melancholy tones
spring from merciless sources
because nobody suffers with me

2.
Bottomless knowing this Skinny
laughs Mighty, as she stands on her post
And you the Mighty, right
smolders Skinny
because who earns a living in the bed at night?

About the Mighty and the Skinny
who travel together in the same flesh
Join in eating and join in drinking and
join in laughing and join in the conversation and
rarely make love together

The Mighty wears the clothes
and the Skinny sinks into nothingness,
somethingness, nothingness, somethingness
The Mighty distributes the marbles
and the Skinny chokes and
join in laughing yes and laughing together no
and walking together must be and
join in walking must stop

3.
Daughters of the gods reach for each other's lips
reconcile gently now
Reach for each other's lips
rise up in unprecedented size


32
A ferocious wolf, I
the star of the interpersonal communication process
the born leader of psycho dramatic societies

But is my intention questioned then I bleed
then I am the howling wolf who lies finished in a corner
Is my quick chat answered with a cool gaze
then vitriol eats its way to the surface
If my flashy entrance cannot get the hands to clap
then my perfect systems get dumped into the destructor
and I lie like I am one with my systems
finally reviled, a pile of debris
to be blown about by the first who passes by

A starving wolf, I
who only just has made the first steps into the world
So far two trophies I can call mine
from her a laugh in public
from her a fleeting kiss in public


33            How then can love be grasped by such a preoccupied being as I turn out to be. Stutters are the only sounds that the brain allows to cross the integrity
                border

                Ah, heart! Women continue to sing about secret feelings and men continue to sing about being misunderstood

                Ah, love! Women continue to play the ask-role and men continue to play the do-role

                Ah, the deed! I make too many clumsy attempts, that are slashed down mercilessly

                I think the society of which she and I are part is ruled by heforces; women are victims of heforces, men are victims of heforces

                I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me. I think okay if I have to descend to the level of my time, okay then I decend to the level of my time

                It is like walking through a field of broken glass, head proud, my shoulder reluctant. I see me as a dated movie star. I mumble just keep smiling


34
Mamagirls crowd in front of the gate of good behavior
Mamagirls sleep
Mamagirls dream at night

Barmania is what I have
Do not persuade me, play me!

Mechanical mechanism
From front to back from front to back
nicely forward oriented, severely nightward

Bartrauma is what I have
Do not persuade me, play me!


35            I have the tendency to drink to the last drop. Whether it is sour or sweet. And often sour is the experience. I must be stopped. But before her  nobody
                ever managed to stop me

                I am omly just in the starting blocks. Can I hope for love when I have no idea what love is? Can I hope for acceptance? In the early stage in which we
                find ourselves acceptance could be a healthy step. I have to accept her, she has to accept me. Acceptance and then perhaps some day love


36
Completely independent of any world
I drift, not at ease
Reasoning is what I do, to convince
Male forces

While the inconvenience is
in my female forces
which request
to be awakened

So overwhelmed, I become
and the lifeline that I span
makes me once more the puppet
I already was


37            I am only just in the starting blocks. Because – unchanged – doubt my relationship with her, doubt about my direction with her and doubt my rhythm
                with her. Occasionally there is a bond, occasionally a direction and occasional a rhythm. Occasionally there are the words in my head I am happy,
                occasionally the words I wanna be with you, just as you are. Occasionally truth moments; confessions

                So I confess. I am not married. But I have sworn allegiance. To ideas. The people who illustrate these ideas are included in the price. And 
                I confess that sometimes the words I love you sound in my head

                But I also love me. And when she no longer wants to be she. She can become stupid. And ugly. I can get tired. And stiff. And when she no longer 
                wants to be she, this irritates me

                She has been she without reserve. She has been she without secrets. We have we been we

                I confess. I have a distant desire for a she of all shes. Richer than daily and yet every day. And also every night a she of all shes. And not 
                what I see, a she part and share

                Ah, brooding sorrow!


38
The bed is the box of trick upon trick
The together bed, the bar bed

Two performances, one end; lonely
The habituation becomes the normal

the degradation sets in
the sisterhood pales

Stimuli heat up the thoughts
No sleep all  night does not become me


39            And I also confess that I am completely fed up, with her gazes and snapped nods, thick with hollow ego complaints

                She wants me to roll in her mud as if it was a bath of gold, but one drop of my mud beside her feet and she flees


40
My ramblings remain loaded
and although there is not much left of my systems
they remain the instruments with which I continue
to  view my present from all sides

Love has become duty, because the yes sounded and does not sound
No longer it gives sensations in the broken zones
No longer it excites me, her back in response to my gesture
I take back my gestures; the time limit is exceeded

Intellectual interest functions as a password to a wet cunt
Stolen lust
Swagger burning in an empty fireplace
The empty fireplace kind of strange after full happiness


41
Poor lighting
should be fixed
Binge parties have exhausted the energies
Tearless crying made the speech go silent

The inflamed tongue speaks double
A split – snakes' own
that continues to deep inside
and is felt there

A second skin
vacuum packaging
does not let through air
nor perfume

Poor lighting
should be fixed
Beautiful voice
Soft sorrow on the radios

Coat around me
that steps and fits and analyzes
cycles
Faded color, thin brush


42
1.
Darling shadows fall gracefully
touch sideways and fall silent

My mind reels
My breath reacts compulsively

slavelike I follow the sucking rhythm of my stomach;
a mystery, that does not solve

Like a seismograph I register
while I work myself in a sweat to please

To my own questions
I no longer expect a sweet answer

2.
I warm me up with my memories
Live from yesterday with her

today is no longer beautiful
But am I not giving in too easily?

Effortless fatigue perhaps?
Misty knives?

3.
I must go on
Rest too


43            I try to think, try. I think about bedforms, about shared forms, about form acknowledgement, about form acceptance

                I try to think, try. I think about different experiences that should result in different forms. Ah, should!

                I try to think, try. I think about drilled forms and blockage, about desired forms and muteness

                I am a woman, born 28 years ago, living anno 1980, Dutch, living in a squat building in Amsterdam. My experiences are different from those of my
                surroundings; I do not recognize me in my gender peers, not in my age peers, not in my nationality peers, not in my neighbors, not in my fellow
                townspeople

                Okay, which deviant forms are the consequences of my deviant experiences? Okay I have to try to make an inventory of my deviant experiences. Okay
                I have to try to make an inventory of my desired forms. And this I try. And I get into some sort of trance. I hear words in my head, foreign words, foreign
                languages


44  some sort of trance
                            1.
                            I hear           AMOUR MOI

                            I think          amour moi from six a.m.
                                             amour moi from one a.m.
                                             amour moi from I am till you too

                            I hear           amour toi

                            I think          ni rien ni plus

                                             amour moi

                                             amour toi
                                             amour plus


                            2.
                            And I hear       SEX HEAD HEART

                            I think          my sex pain
                                             my head pain
                                             my heart pain

                            I hear           crime de passion
                                             crime cruelle
                                             crime culturelle
                                             crime d'elle

                            I think          my sex empty
                                             my head empty
                                             my heart empty

                            I hear           crime culturelle
                                             elle est belle

                            I think          my sex sleeps
                                             my head future
                                             my heart travels
                                             my sex laughs
                                             my head talks
                                             my heart stone

                            Ah, my head my head my head!

                            I think          my coeur belongs to elle
                                             to elle my crippled coeur
                                             to elle my coeur criant
                                             to elle my coeur courtisant


                            3.
                            And I hear       LA NUIT

                            I think          je suis une veuve dans mon lit
                                             je suis un veuf dans mon lit
                                             la nuit noire

                                             je passe à la nuit

                                             la nuit passe à moi
                                             la nuit passe sans replique
                                             la nuit noire

                                             je n'ai pas une replique à la nuit

                                             pas de chanson
                                             ni elle ni lui

                                             see elle see lui

                                             see elle see lui see me
                                             see me in my négligé
                                             see lui dans son négligé
                                             see elle dans son négligé

                                             see elle – ciel

                                             fresh air dans la nuit
                                             la nuit neuvième

                                             fresh air dans la nuit

                                             la nuit opale

                                             fresh air dans la nuit

                                             la nuit opaque
                                             fresh air dans la nuit
                                             la nuit obstinée

                                             la nuit neuvième

                                             la nuit nuptiale
                                             la nuit négligée


                            4.
                            And I hear       LE PARADIS

                            Ah, I can smell the perfume of Paradise!

                            I say            I smell le parfum du paradis

                            Ah, I can smell the perfume of passion!

                            I say            I smell le parfum de la passion

                            I think          quoi le paradis?

                                             wise paradise yes

                                             no moi le paradis no
                                             yes toi le paradis yes no


                            5.
                            And I think      TRÄUME

                            I hear           träume mein schatz
                                             nur süsse träume mein schatz
                                             nur süsse schatten
                                             shadows
                                             whims of the mind
                                             strange twists
                                             small perversions
                                             jokes

                            I think          the king is dead
                                             the queen has not yet been born


                            6.
                            And I note       damp armpits
                                             rapidly beating heart

                                             creating overconfident conditions

                                             blackmailing experience

                                             the disconnected mind interprets

                                             I am living I am living

                                             patience despot

                                             talking dawdle flesh

                                             pretended wise buffer

                                             between the Mighty and the Skinny

                                             bold statue

                                             skittish eyes dead

                                             bottomless behavior

                                             bar thick

                                             o a olala

                                             ma vie et moi;
                                             sexy


                            7.
                            And I hear       AKTION D'AMOUR, THEATRE DE PASSION

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part one

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part two

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part three

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part four

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part five

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part six

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part seven

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part eight

                                             o a olala, ma vie et moi; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; part nine

                                             la nuit neuvième, see me in my négligé; sexy

                                             aktion d'amour, theatre de passion; finale

                                             o a, fini


                            8.
                            I note           BOTTOMLESS BEHAVIOR

                                             binging by candlelight
                                             lights on porn pictures
                                             resembling corpses

                                             do not miss the miss


                                             buzzing promises

                                             trifles of fun
                                             spicy herbs cover up

                                             knives sharp


                                             formula 1

                                             champion in the bend
                                             grandiose slip display

                                             krassssshh



                            9.
                            And then I remember a dream

                            I dreamed of water that cannot be reached. I dreamed of muddy sandy paths,
                            loose, uneven, with on the side shopwindows. I see again the displayed
                            delights priced in foreign currencies. I hear again the seductive music.
                            I remember that I know that an exceptional monster will appear on the waves.
                            I remember that I know that the waves are cold. I smell again the stinking
                            dung in the surrounding fields. And I remember that when the monster finally
                            showed it turned out to be made of plastic. And despite its ability to move
                            and despite the fact that the size and colors were impressive the anticlimax
                            was nerve wrenching

                            And I remember the tail end of the dream. When the camera has shifted and
                            points at the cat who is lying in the chair like a lounge lady. With each
                            word her ears shiver until the abdomen has taken over the rhythm of the
                            voice and the essence of the creature has laid itself to sleep behind
                            the appearance. A glorious sight


                            10.
                            And I hear       CALME ET FORTE

                            I ask            qu'est ce que c'est calme et forte?

                            I whisper        comme la mer

                            I ask            qu'est ce que c'est la capitulation?

                            I think          behave as a woman
                                             want to feel
                                             threads to sex
                                             get lost in head

                                             behave as a man

                                             want to be felt
                                             threads to heart
                                             get lost in head

                            Ah, my head my head my head!


                            11.
                            And I hear       PROTOTYPE SANS GÊNE

                            I think          make me feel like a woman
                                             I know you can

                                             make me feel like a man

                                             I know you can

                                             make me feel like a mixture mondiale



                            12.
                            And then I sing with an anguished voice
                                             quando kwelling mi amore
                                             quando waiting for so long
                                             quando tears dans ma chambre

                                             mach mir happy


                            And I think      ich will mehr
                                             I want more

                            I know           may not

                            I think          I may more

                            I know           can not

                            I think          I can more

                            I know           want not

                            And then I sing with an anguished voice
                                             quando mio mi amore
                                             quando ghosts from the past
                                             leave me coeur and shady beaches

                            I think          leave me


                            13.
                            And I say        dawdle dallies turn thumbs
                                             in the pink baby flesh

                            Of these words I make a stamp
                            and I stamp three hundred and sixty six times
                                             dawdle dallies turn thumbs
                                             in the pink baby flesh


                            14.
                            And I whisper    je ne veux pas pleurer


                            15.
                            And I see me

                            I say            voilà
                                             voilà le wedding suit the my brother
                                             voilà the bridal costume of my oldest brother
                                             mon frère se mariait neuf années passées
                                             voilà

                                             voilà the shirt of my younger brother


                                             voilà moi


                            I whisper        qu'est ce que je pense maintenant?
                                             qu'est ce que je cherche?

                            I think          trios bathing in bright sunlight
                                             skinny bones

                                             brand bonbons

                                             custom forged pralines
                                             quality bijoux of pleasure
                                             taste bud  resurrection

                            I mumble         weigh your bit
                                             und hau ab


                            16.
                            And I think      weeks will seem months

                            And I almost break

                            But I say        weak moons
                                             wake the corpses

                            And I say        pale suns

                            I think          pariahs on polaroids


                            17.
                            And I whisper    no more dangerdance on broken ice
                                             no more interdit
                                             no more positions intéressantes


                            18.
                            And I think      I love sometimes
                                             sometimes I don't


45           Ah, I am inside! I do not take me seriously. Ah, this is not how I earn the lines on my face! Ah, enough of the swooning! Policies of life have to be
                found. Continuous lines. A steady thread I can use to drag me on. Love nuisances make my engine burn; if the love nuisances disappear my engine
                stops. Where is the thread that can ensure that, when the love nuisances disappear, my engine will continue to burn?

                It is time for exclamation marks. Now there should be findings. Now the word must be combined with the action. Now the laws that dictate the act must
                be put under the microscope

                No more remote control. Hop, out. No more untouchability. No more aloofness. But having presence

                Having presence what is this? Having presence do I have this? I have several. In love a different one than in friendship. In the first friendship a different
                one than in the second friendship. For my work another. And still another for anonymously social. Ah, confusion!

                When it comes to my need for passivity there is a confusion about having no presence and having a passive presence. And a confusion about having
                a passive presence and having a waiting presence. And a confusion about having a waiting presence and having a parasitic presence. Ah, parasitic
                passivity!

                Parasitic passivity is a substitute of a non shouted cry for confirmation of my presence-right. Presence-right is a substitute of existence-right. So
                parasitic passivity is a substitute of a non shouted cry for confirmation of my existence-right. Therefore cold and dark. Aha!

                Now further

                I am stuck in the idea that love equals perfect communication. I am stuck in the idea that perfect communication is an activity. I am stuck in the idea
                that activity represents a positive value

                Over and over I subordinate me to an idea. That is how I keep me untouchable. That is how I keep me aloof. Over and over I get, by me, a lesser right to
                exist than an idea gets, by me. That is how it remains cold and dark

                I wish I could accept my muteness. That I no longer interprete muteness as lifeless, make muteness synonymous to retreat. To retreat to keep my
                wounds for me, to lick my wounds in my cage. Over and over I let my isolation come to me as a legitimate sword. I wish that I could accept my isolation.
                That I no longer keep looking for someone who I can blame for my isolation; pointing to me as the culprit who must change, or pointing to her as the
                culprit who must change. I wish that I would no longer continue to believe, that by changing my isolation will disappear. I wish that I dared to take
                space. I wish that I dared to dance on the tightrope

                Ah, I am getting somewhere!

                I think the society of which she and I are part is focused on confirming hedefined values; femininity and masculinity are defined as opposites by
                and for a masculine model striving for harmony

                I wish I would abandon my automatic opposition. I try to think, try. About automatic confrontation, about automatic conflict model, about automatic
                reflections. I rethink impaired sensations. And I remember the mumble about weakened nerves

                When she behaves like a hedefined woman my nerves get itchy, I pull back in my cage and a deadlock follows

                What can I do to counteract this? What do I dare to counteract this? I rethink threat. I remember my analysis threat is not something that the other
                evokes; threat is evoked by the own feelings for the other

                When she behaves like a hedefined woman I experience this as a threat, my defense mechanism is activated and clumsiness or aggression follows

                What is a shedefined woman? What is shedefined masculinity? I rethink secret areas. I remember my confession there is an area in me that craves to
                be explored, an area  that defends its secrets with mean forces

                When she behaves like a hedefined woman I end up in this secret area

                How vulnerable is shedefined femininity? How vulnerable is shedefined masculinity? I rethink heforces. I remember the thought women are victims of
                heforces, men are victims of heforces. Woman and man are the two prescribed roles. I note that the actual behavior of the daily day and nightly night
                provides for alternative arrangements, to escape the constraints of the specified roles. I note that in a society ruled by heforces these bastard roles are
                given a sexually explicit indication like sissy or spinster. And that these bastard roles are neutralized by sexually tinted jokes; always a funny pair is the
                overweight woman with the underweight man. I conclude that in a society ruled by heforces the feminine bastard role has little woman prestige and the
                masculine bastard role little man prestige

                What could be the actual behavior of the daily day and nightly night between people, in a feminine model striving for harmony?

                Ah, question marks!

                Ah, talk!

                Yes the talk is not bad at all, but how about the situation in the bed?

                I want to be conquered by a revelatory rhythm, because I can surrender only to a revelatory rhythm

                It is no longer like walking through a field of broken glass; I walk through a field of broken glass. I see me, head bowed, my shoulder more reluctant, my
                hands trembling again, my eyes unfocused again. And the glass shards are real

                Yes the glass shards are real. But I overcome my cramped state. And I confess that my dealings with her have rarely led me elsewhere than to playing
                one of the prescribed roles, which I reject. I confess that my dealings with her have occasionally led me to the fire, here I block. I create a distance to
                protect me from the heat. Therefore cold and dark. I want to get warm. Now! I no longer want to carry me; I want to be carried

                Ah, forward!

                I must find forms from my needs. My role is deviant. By giving form to my deviant role there is a chance for freedom. There is chance for freedom!
                I must not try to increase the chance for happiness, but I must try to reduce the risk for unhappiness. I must change the course

                But the compass is lost

                Ah, go inside!

                Ah, a revelatory rhythm!


46
                            1.
                            And I remember my rhythm.
                            I remember my rhythm with her

                            I think          LA RHYTHM DE L'AFFECTION

                            And I hear       affection
                                             moi
                                             affection
                                             moi
                                             affection
                                             moi

                            I think          la rhythm voilà

                            I hear           show
                                             affection
                                             show
                                             affection
                                             show
                                             affection

                            I think          la rhythm voilà


                            2.
                            And I hear       MANIACS

                            I note           maniacs are creeping in moi
                                             I am tabula rasa

                                             maniacs are binging in moi

                                             I am forgotten flower

                                             mercymaker makes my mouth wet

                                             I am zero

                            I mumble         start from zero:
                                             one two three vier
                                             fünf sexs seven huit neuvième

                                             back to zero


                                             and fly and fall and up and zero

                                             and one and two and tout le monde

                                             and back


                            I think          to maniacs

                            I say            one two three vier fünf sex maniacs
                                             I am blueprint

                            I think          bruised flower

                            I say            maniacs are sleeping in moi
                                             I am everybodies' teenager

                            I whisper        I am yourbody's teenager
                                             I am mybody's teenager


                            3.
                            And I hear ADORE MOI, ADORE MOI, ADORE MOI MUCHO MUCHO

                            And I sing with a pleading voice
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi mucho mucho
                                             adore moi, adore moi, adore moi mucho mucho


                            4.
                            And I whisper    So I can die in peace


                            5.
                            And I hear. Nothing


                            6.
                            I conclude       eunuchs challenge the sultan
                                             the sultan shamefully swallows his words

                                             brutality and bluff are rampant



                            7.
                            And I mumble     filia devota behind the curtain
                                             leave this country
                                             I want my hands free


                            8.
                            And I remember that she whispered to me my bébé.
                            I remember how she whispered to my bébé


                            9.
                            And I wonder whether I stumble
                            upon a major triumph or a small triumph.
                            I think it is time for major triumphs


47            I do not know that the worst is yet to come. I do not know that I am glued to my nuisances by a strange adhesive. I should stop. I should laughingly cry
                my next tears. But I no longer have a choice. I cannot but go still further into the mud. I cannot but drink me into a stupor from the source of my misery.
                I must think. I must look at me, listen to me, analyze me. I need to change

                I try to think, try. About ideas. Ah, ratio saviors! Ideas direct questions to readymade answers. Ideas are ratio saviors! It is time I replace my ideas with
                exclamation marks

                Okay, from now on I am going to confront me. From now on I am not longer tempted by outflanking movements. From now on no more dawdle dally.
                Ah, my double tongue is rolled up!

                And I know a little silence. Now, I can think. Yes now it is time for exclamation marks. Okay, exclamation marks


48
I evoke sentences
that I do not listen to
And although not heard
I force me to analyze them

To then try
with the drawn conclusions
to ensure my future
Can this be over?


49            I think okay ideas. I remember the confession I have sworn allegiance to ideas

                Okay, exclamation marks! I surrender to ideas because I have trouble surrendering to people! I only surrender to an idea if it is of my own construction;
                an idea that is not constructed by me has no value! I believed that if only I would have enough active commitment I would be able to surrender to a
                human being!

                Alternately I dive into the physical and withdraw from the physical; I force myself to activity because I want out of my isolation. Over and over again
                I am smashed to pieces and once more I entrench behind my ideas. Exclamation marks! Of the human being woman I have made the idea woman, and my
                attempts to surrender have been towards the idea woman! I surrender to the idea woman because I have problems with surrendering to the human being
                woman! Question marks. Why am I focused on the position of the one who is giving when I am with a woman, while with a man this totally does  not
                interest me? Or is it that I am focused on the position of the one who is giving when I am in love? Or do I confuse the give-and-take-fight with a woman
                with being in love with a woman?

                Ah, expectation!

                I know that my expectation is that the other, through interaction with me, starts to function more authentically. I know this can be traced back to the
                idea perfect communication. In my dealings with men I know no pain if this expectation is not met. In my dealings with her I do know pain if this
                expectation is not met

                Ah, exclamation marks!

                Okay, exclamation marks! In my dealings with her, this expectation is the bet! In bed with her I count my loss!

                Her sexual arousal may place me at a distance; my breath catches, my rhythm stagnates. In case of cardiac chill I interpret her biological reaction as
                proof that she has let her be touched by me. To my biological reaction I attach no value, because I live the idea love

                Ah, altruism!

                Ah, the triumphal trip through lonely archways that whisper about being sweet!

                Ah, altruism as a last resort!



50
You do it with me
You do nothing to me
Your body rubs itself free on my side

You do nothing to me
You do nothing with me
Your voice sounds hollow in the night


51            I conclude that I am not untouchable but that I am untouched. Already since my earliest childhood I hide behind a picture of me. The Perfect is the title
                of this picture. Already since my earliest childhood, I have an overall definition of me as a buffer between me and the disappointing reality. It is this
                overall definition that over and over again must be smashed to pieces. I am not untouched by the human being man, because with men there is no buffer.
                I am untouched by the human being woman, because with women there is a buffer. I conclude that the human being woman is the opposing force. Ah,
                the great pain is caused by disappointment in woman!

                It is crazy. It is frightening. But I cannot help but go on. I cannot help but keep searching. I am hunted, I am captivated, I know no peace

                I think about programming because –– on the assumption that through the relationship between caregivers and child in the child expectations are
                conditioned –– the assumption that the child will do everything to maintain the feeling of home, however lame this feeling is –– because I am a child ––
                because there is no question of free choice –– because despite me, my dealings with her over and over again set their law –– pain and pain once more
                –– never happiness –– therefore: programming

                So, disappointment. Disappointment in the human being woman. Disappointment by the human being woman. The image of woman finds its  blueprint in
                the female caregiver. The word mother suggests an involvement, but the phenomenon mother is meaningless to me. Another title for the picture of me is:
                The Parentless Child. Therefore all the more damned that this woman who to me as a human being is so familiar, as mother, entirely according to the
                books, appears to be the core of my pain. Okay okay. So, programmed. Okay. I am programmed to lack of appreciation for my blood, I am programmed to
                absence of dialogue with my nerves and I am programmed to absence of coziness for my muscles

                My brain is spinning. I have a past. I hear again the voice of the woman who raised me; the short bitter monologues and the prejudices elevated to
                considerations. I see again the movements of the woman who raised me; handy when it comes to things, clumsy when it comes to humans. I again fill up
                with the woman who raised me; such a fragile bird, also so solitary in her fight

                Ah, air air, smelly and sticky!

                I must not forget I am the child. And I point an accusing finger, shivering. My throat is in a clamp, vomitingly I empty my stomach, my legs fail, but I 
                no longer have a choice; I cannot but break the taboo of the fifth commandment

                What was not there was a mom who was able to understand my problems, a mom who was able to help me with my problems. My lame sense of home is 
                that I have no problem. Violating the fifth commandment means admitting that I have problems. My problem is that I have problems. Therefore 
                outflanking movements. Therefore dawdle dally

                Give and take. A proper balance. A proper balance was not there. What was there were my mom's unspoken expectations and her unarticulated 
                utterances that I understood as the basics of a unique high moral standing. My lame sense of home is that I am the only one who understands her 
                uniqueness and that I will make her happy by living this moral. Violating the fifth commandment means admitting that I  do not comply with a 
                unique high moral standing. My problem is that I do not comply with a unique high moral standing. Therefore completely light and warm or 
                completely cold and dark. Therefore ideas

                I need a soft caressing hand that makes all pain go away. A soft caressing momhand was not there. What was there were my mom's unspoken 
                insinuations and her pertinent rejection of what was going on outside. My lame sense of home is that I stand alone. Violating the fifth commandment 
                means admitting that the sizes used for measurement are not necessarily banal. My problem is to see me as part of outside. Therefore doubt.  
                Therefore withdrawal

                Ah, I have a mother! Ah the mother I have is a monster!

                My brain is spinning. Everything that flies through my mind clashes with all the information that I saved during my identity searching years. No 
                complicated logic I can cite, no theory developed by the horde of serviceable soul reformers pops up to help me. It is insane but I cannot but bend to 
                the whims of the woman who never said or manifested I love you. And I cannot but bend to the whims of my favorite substitute. My dearest. She

                This must stop. I have mine. She hers


52
Getthedamnaway despotic mismoments
The tabula rasa of my intimacy is corroded
by the acid of unopened family albums
They did not know better, I knew early

Who was ever happy with me?
She, the mommy? He, the daddy?

As sad appendix to unrecorded pedigrees
I meet me in the most monstrous forms
Cursing the mother ancestors and father ancestors
who force me to crawl into my womb
hoping that thus I can save me
meanwhile choking in the umbilical cords


53            I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me. I blame her for presenting me with such a miserable picture of me. I blame her for presenting me with such a bland 
                picture of me. I am ashamed, I am ashamed of me. I forgive her for presenting me with such a miserable picture of me. I forgive her for presenting me 
                with such a bland picture of me

                Ah, I have a past! I have a past!

                But do I have a present? Yes what is my present?


54
1.
Except for some innocent jokes
my live followed a joyless slave-path
And should I know that my life is doomed
to continu on this joyless slave-path
then, yes,

2.
Daughter of the gods forward
let the doves fly
Sing around in the bluest sky;
get naked


55
1.
Come here Madame
the beach is yours

Let it all out
in the total masturbation

2.
Take me as you took yourself
Equally unscrupulous and sick

Let me feel what you felt
And my head must sleep

Use me as you used yourself
And my eyes wide

3.
Empty without tension
The battleground is churned

and what remains is a bare surface
I step over the debris

exit with a bowing heart

4.
She has left

I go on breathing however
What is my role now?


56           A very long time it is very quiet. It turns night it turns day. It turns night it turns day. It turns night it turns day. It turns night it turns day. It turns night 
                it turns day. It turns night it turns day. It turns night it turns day

                And unchanged, I do not know what is happening on the mood bringing fields. Unchanged, I have no view on the uncrowned despots who keep on 
                abusing me. Unchanged, for too long and too often, the area in me where I suspect my life is not being reached. No, she and I do not run synchronously. 
                And I have trouble with my rhythm. I have trouble with my slow rhythm

                I do not know my motives. That is how again and again the course of events eludes me. Again and again a chain of reactions. Questions are piling up: 
                With whom starts the action? With me? With her? Only trust creates a bed of answers, but test test test test test, because of course we trust each other, 
                of course

                What are my motives? Yes who am I?


57
Hollie hollie hela
I live

The throne on which I seat shows a troubled pattern
The mirror in which I view me
comforts me with mechanical melancholy

Once more I clap my hands
Once more I give air to the colossus that lies unwieldingly
within the framework of my intimacy

Once more I march to the wide beaches
where tides – more and more irregular
deny their relationship with the moon

Once more I view my world
And the main course – as always
Love!


58            I become a ghost, when i am my own host. For days and nights. And days and nights. And days and nights. And days and nights. And days and 
                nights. And days and nights

                And, for just an instant, I get a view of what is happening on the mood bringing fields; my dreams are legitimate places of undefined passions, my 
                dreams are the writings on the wall, my dreams are messengers. I write her a letter

                I write you have gotten your child tonight, I was only indirectly involved. I write that I dreamed that I was quasi excitedly arranging that he, who was 
                supposed to have the doctorlike mind, would come in time. Quasi, for the onlooker – yes I have to, haven't I – but within not moved. And he, who was 
                supposed to have the doctorlike mind – a faggot, who starts to quarrel with me; he is convinced I am making a pass at him – oh well! Whereupon he 
                makes an expanded production of saying goodbye to his lover and it gets later and later. I write but fortunately my sister is with you and she has 
                experience with childbirth; inside this gives me a sea of  time and for the onlooker I speed on. And then when you seem to be ready I turn away,  
                I do not really look when someone calls that the head is there. And when I do look you show me a virginal quietness that is lovely and  
                serene and that evokes in me a familiar scent. A secret message it seems, because the closed lips include the thousand expressions of your 
                face that merge into a peace without boundaries. I write that this dream might want to tell me that the key to my peace lies in her sex. And I note  
                if only I want to be involved inside and to the onlooker passive. So I tear up the letter


59
1.
I have found the peace to take care of my own food
water bread with cherry stones
deliveries at the back door

I have innate nourishment potential
to be used for my own benefit –– hard
or to be tapped into by greedy mania heads –– hard

I have rainlike worries in my head

2.
I have this urge to communicate with you
sooner sickly than healthy –– I admit it
but alla valhalla, alla valhalla –– I admit it

3.
My brother,
somewhat cold after all these northern confidentialities,
will not easily forget that conversation


60           And slowly a vulgar diatribe has formed in me 

                I penetrated into the world of the act, and I do not like it. I put my trumps on the manifestations of the inarticulate life urge, and I lost. Under the heading 
                intellect I rejected mind, and I was wrong. Her deeds meet me stinkingly. As since night and day my thoughts meet me stinkingly, because they are 
                mindless. Gone is the doubt about the sincerity of my act, gone is the doubt about the sincerity of my heart and gone is the doubt about my right to 
                exist. The act as the companion de vie is finished, the heart as the companion de lit is unmasked and the mind does not have to be renounced any longer 

                I conclude that in my reality it is not the body that rules, not her body and not my body, but that my reality is ruled by the mind

                Ah, mind!

                My sick mind. Nothing thought except by my sick mind. Nothing spoken, nothing written, nothing sung except by my sick mind

                Ah, I also! I am with all the others a voice in a vacuum. The rare unconditionally blooming flower appears to be overgrown by undefined weeds

                I have told me that the only form of communication that was left for me was, that I offered me to her as the personification of a unique high moral 
                standing. Therefore the pompous words I always have scattered around me. My right to exist I have derived from the idea that I could offer my dearest 
                an anchor, an anchor that too often I could not find for me. Is not a neurosis a disorder in the functioning of the nervous system causing healthy 
                incentives to be perceived sickly? I conclude in the reality of the moment reigns the neurosis

                Her nero. My nero. Ah, my secret nero! 


61           Therefore, again and again a chain of reactions. My nero reacts to her nero. Her nero reacts to my nero. My nero nero reacts to her. Her nero reacts to 
                my nero. Therefore test test test test test. Her nero speculates on my nero. My nero speculates on her nero. Her nero speculates on my nero. My nero 
                speculates on her nero

                What does she mean to me? I try to think, try. I must not forget she is a child. And I must not forget that I am a child. I seem calm but I am exhausted. 
                I am afraid

                Her actions are mechanical reactions to provocation of my nero. My thoughts are mechanical reactions to provocations of her nero. My nero is a 
                monster. A treacherous monster that presents itself to me as my most intimate core. If I do not embrace my nero as my partner but her, my nero spreads 
                an impenetrable stinking smoke. In any case impenetrable for her

                Before I met her my nero slept a restless sleep. Since I met her, my nero gradually has taken complete possession of me. She gradually has awakened 
                my nero. And so she changed me into a monster

                And now I remember my trance. I remember the dream. I remember that when the monster finally showed it turned out to be made of plastic. Yes  
                my nero is an inflated plastic monster. Yes I have to just exhaust the air. I hear again the echo air air, smelly and sticky. Yes do smell, yes do stick. 
                But

                My nero proves stubborn. The nero keeps on demanding. The nero continues testing, testing, testing. And she continues to react, to speculate, to 
                invoke. And I continue to believe, to speak with double tongue, to think that I think

                She is a puppet. The attention lines that go out to her are the umbilical cords along which she moves. If these attention lines disappear she swims in the 
                pre-earthly depths of her bottomlessness. And then she cannot let her float. No. Then she starts to stump to all sides. Yes and to kick to all sides 

                I think intimate heattention for a woman is programmed lust-lust. She does not live by this, but her nero does. So if in bed I do not play  a lust-lust role 
                her nero leads her to a man, she goes looking for a man, she goes looking for the familiar situation. Her nero also spreads an impenetrable stinking smoke. 
                At least impenetrable for me. I do not want to be the one on the sideline of the pool, who with a long stick keeps her in our orbit. She does not want this 
                either, but her nero does

                Lust-lust attachment is a primitive form of confirmation. Lust-lust behavior is one of the forms of dazed behavior that a person can exhibit. And not just 
                a human being. Look at the dazed expression of two copulating dogs. I prefer the warmth and tranquility of two monkeys picking fleas. The society of 
                which we are a part has a nero too. In the practice of this society love means lust-lust. And assist means in the practice of this society aggressively 
                interfere with. Different behavior than lust-lust is suspect. Different behavior than aggressive coercive controlling is despised. Raping the other is an 
                outlet that over and over again is sanctioned by this society. Harassing the other is an exhaust valve that over and over again is sanctioned by this 
                society

                Ah, that simple? Yes, that simple!

                Now that my nero is about to burst I ask once more. What can she mean to me? What can the human being that she is mean to the human being that 
                I am? And again I have doubts. Does the human being that she is exist? Does the human being that I am exist? Or is she reducible to a mix of 
                programmed roles? I am reducible to a mix of programmed roles?

                I know that my biggest fear is that I cannot break with my isolation. I do not know that the greatest trump of my nero is that I want to be accepted as 
                normal; as a normal Dutch woman of  28, living anno 1980


62
Am I a hopeless case?
Once more I am the clown

dancing to the tunes of my eternal sorrow
When will the tune be only an echo?

When does eternal end?
Can I have a bit of luck?


63           And now I remember again my trance. I remember the anguished song. I remember I want more, may not – I may more, can not – I can more, 
                want not

                Ah, confusion!

                Confusion about mind and awareness. Mind has just as little connection with awareness as body has, when someone does not actively record, not 
                actively process and not actively understand. Word has just as little connection with awareness as deed has, when someone does not actively record, 
                not actively process  and not actively understand. I read her deeds with more awareness than she steers them and she reads my words with more 
                awareness than I steer them. This is how a mutual process of awareness-building can come into force. Provided there is trust

                Maybe I can not, but I want. Maybe I shall not, but I try

                So okay, if not I but my nero is the monster, I will look the monster right in the face. And when it tries to devour me again, I will not forget that it is made 
                of plastic. I can just let out the air, I want to just let out the air, I will just let out the air 

                I think about I want more, may not – I may more, can not – I can more, want not. A.B.C. In A it is a struggle of my awareness against her nero ––  
                and the nero is stronger. In B, it is a struggle of her nero against my nero –– so the nero is smarter. In C, it is a struggle of my nero against her awareness  
                –– and the nero spreads the smell of the injured and the nero spreads the smell of the aggrieved

                Ah, the nero is stronger, smarter, more convincing! Therefore again and again withdrawal, because again and again research is necessary so that again 
                and again a part of the nero delusion gets pulverized, so that again and again reality becomes more transparent. A. B. C. Next round. Withdrawal, so that 
                a next portion of the nero delusion gets pulverized, so that reality becomes more transparent. A. B. C. Next round. Withdrawal, so that a next portion of 
                the nero delusion gets pulverized, so that reality becomes more transparent. A. B. C. Next round. Withdrawal, until the nero delusion is reduced to the 
                core. Then two possibilities: 1. you split from this core, or 2. you split this core

                This society has fought a cold dark fight to, after centuries, reach the core of the delusion. And because option 1. is being ignored, a large number of 
                destruction-bombs are the result. I have fought a cold dark fight to, after what seems ages, reach the core of the delusion. And because I ignore option 1. 
                a large number of destruction-bombs are the result. A. B. C. Next round. Withdrawal. Final round: I want more, may not – I may more, can not – I can 
                more, want not. It is this last want not that has to be pulled out. Totally róo téd oút! Otherwise total destruction. Tó tál dés strúck  tíon!

                What is no food for my nero my brain puts away as worthless. If there is a nero and a human being just keeps on living, then the interests of the one 
                into the other can be traced back to a form of nero correspondence. Both understanding each other can be traced back to a form of nero correspondence 
                as well as dislike of each other can be traced back to a form of nero correspondence. If there is a nero and a human being just keeps on living, love is an 
                empty concept. Nero interest is a better word for the actual behavior of the daily day and nightly night. Or child's grave interest 

                Yes if there is a nero love can only then exist if the nero is known. If there is a nero love can only then exist if the nero is split off

                Ah, love, protect, comfort!


64           My body is so hot that my head boils over.

                I am exhausted. I want her here with me. Now

                I want to be happy. All days all nights. All days all nights. All days all nights. All days all nights

                All days all nights I stay close to the abyss. I remain stubborn. I set the scene for a total confrontation. I decide for the final separation. And I continue 
                to believe

                I ruminate my question marks, I ruminate my thoughts, I ruminate my observations, I ruminate my needs, I ruminate my confessions, I ruminate my 
                doubts, I ruminate my notes, I ruminate my conclusions, I ruminate my analysises, I ruminate my propositions, I ruminate my past, I ruminate my 
                experiences, I ruminate my exclamation marks, I ruminate my ideas, I ruminate my irritations, I ruminate my choices, I ruminate my dreams. I ruminate


65
Mifysto beats the drum
Go away Maxi Moriole
Prepare for large massacres in the corral

Max Moriole flashes the eyes
Perfect display
From the outset wide tracks


66            I know that the end is in sight. I know that I am here, now. I know that I move without direction, feel vague, like talking to people and like listening to 
                the radio. I know that I smoke a cigarette, am a little hot and a little cold and that I hold a pencil in my right hand

                I write on the tabletop      She  I  Love

                I write below                    Sea-food for the beasts in the forest


67           And a very long long time, I continue moving without direction. A very long long time, I continue feeling vague. And I lose more and more people with 
                whom I can talk. And more and more I listen to the radio. And I learn to be silent. And I am silent


68
Rentired elk graze obediently
murmuring for desire drove me downhill
and then trot trotting rebelling

Remains for me a farewell
and then back uphill




© mc 1979-2014





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