a name

up on a hill we watch all the fucking tomorrows burn ... then we fuck violently ... in turn. the wind, the images flash in. the village is on fire. the sky is black suddenly as if it was raped by coal. the blood is the beauty mark of this landscape. sort of. the killers are sleek and almost unnoticed. there is no one left. there is no one spared. we will never look into each other's eyes again. even though my lips whisper your dead name.

::: time intermission :::

separation

the anarchy in my head ... oh so territorial ... visions of killing ... visions of retirement. all my cells wish to erase the continent not-to-contain-me-from anymore. because i am an original trespasser ... one that will always challenge your backyard and the backyard behind your backyard. always on the way beyond ... to overcome the separation that seems to be so .... eternal

?

::: divided :::

england

tomorrow we cannot escape. the clouds are concrete everywhere you look. the steel sky over the park. beyond the dead channel. we don't smile, sing. far from neutral, i open my left eye. the stream is free. the cars on the autobahn are empty. you do not care. you just stand there ... on the bank of the six letter river ... alone ... and gaze to battersea behind the water ... your eyes kiss the oh so famous power station ... you are amazed ... undetached ... sparta in your ears ... then you turn back to see some more red eyes in the equally red phone booth ... because this is england ... and the angels here lack the berlin wings ...

::: get over :::