Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

stoneage

guinea-pigs in a pet store. velvet fur, quietly squeaking. desolation inthishelpless squeaking. voices, threatening, accusing: eight years ago you abandoned two guinea- pigs in the forest when the darkness became unbearable. guinea-pigs, velvet fur, quietly squeaking. the nightsea returns their voices back to you as accusation. you went home and your eyes fell inward, turned toward other images. a feeling of black velvet on the palms. and those newly born, tiny hamsters you drowned. their tiny buttoneyes looked at you, trusting animalchildren. they were naked and helpless. but you had to drown them. with a green grimace the monster crept through your dreams and brought you the mutilated bodies, stinking leftover of an unlived life. on the black rock red meat burned. in the shape of a heart the flames ate their way to the center, vultures circled the icemoon. while blue cold saws my skull to pieces, deep inside the body a baby is smashed against steel walls. i hear the bones breaking. the butterflies die in wordland. it is not my body, not my body. the feet in burning shoes. to dance until hell rises to the navel. laughter beyond the striking of the hour. no more, please, nothing more. bruno, please, take this picturebook of violence from me. no one may let this happen. how am i supposed to live, so, as nightwalker between ice and fire? i am not supposed to live.

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