my face

so emotionless. just a screen, just a surface. we stand on a hill. in the next days you will pronounce 250.000 words. the first will be soil the last soul. my heart is drummachine in the meantime. i also take a lot of pictures. the suns keep falling down. there are no interruptions at all; just the constant wordflow. each word describes my face. each picture steals it. an eternal equilibrium of exchange. sit down, listen, you will be there too.

::: go or stay and i've got to choose and i'll accept your invitation to the blues :::