she/they
born in 1989 in Regensburg, Germany
studied Educational Science, Visual Art, and Gender Studies/Intersectionality
higly sensitive, disabled, fat, and queer being, trying to make sense of her existence in this absurd world.
is currently a tattoo artist | poet | fantasy/fiction-writer | visual artist | activist.
1. Ruby, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Ruby Allegra, a beautiful nonbinary disabled person, sitting in their underwear, their arms crossed above their head, eyes closed.
2. Vivek, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Vivek Shraya. She is sitting, wearing a dress, a choker, a necklace and big earrings, and a bindi. She looks to the right with a contemplative expression on her face.
3. Majic, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Majic Dyke. They are holding a book, wearing a tank top, and a septum piercing. They have a very cute smirk on their face and are looking directly at the viewer.
4. Kina, 2019, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Kina Grannis. She is wearing a sewater, holding a guitar and playing, and singing along with her eyes closed.
5. Alok, 2019, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Alok Vaid-Menon. They are wearing a spaghetti-strap-dress, a big necklace with many beads and gems, and earrings. They have a beautifully hairy body and beard stubbles on their face. They are holding one hand up behind their head, looking at the viewer.
6. Megan, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Megan Jayne Crabbe. She is in her underwear, dancing, eyes closed, smiling. She has a small belly with some folds.
7. Annie, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of Annie Segarra/Elainey. They have long, dark hair, dark eyes, a mole on their forehead, and are wearing earrings. They are standing in their underwear, looking at the viewer, and they have a beautifully curvy, soft looking body.
8. Kaz and Majic, 2022, pencil on paper, 21 x 29,7 cm.
A faint, soft, simple pencil drawing of two Black people sitting naked on the floor, sunken in a loving, intimate embrace.
9. Kaz, 2022, pencil on paper, 29,7 x 21 cm.
A faint, soft, simple pencil drawing of Kaz Karen Lucas. They are standing, turned to the right, but looking at the viewer with a soft expression, their hands on their chin. They are wearing bikini bottoms and a cropped t-shirt.
10. Anna-Theresa II, 2015, pencil on paper, 29,5 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching of a person wearing a sweater and her hair in a messy bun. Her right hand is on her waist, and she has an expression on her face that could be interpreted as confusion, disgust, or disapproval.
11. Dame, 2018, pencil on paper.
A simple pencil drawing of a beautiful person with short, dark, curly hair lying on her back on the floor. Her right arm is angled up, her hand at her chin. Her eyes are closed. Picture only shows her head to chest.
12. Asha, 2019, pencil on paper, 29,7 x 21 cm.
A simple pencil drawing of a beautiful Black person with long twists, which are half-tied up into two buns, the rest of the hair falling down her back. She is sitting on a stone wall, her hands left and right next to her on that wall. She is wearing a blouse and shorts, and she has a tattoo on her left shoulder. She looks to the left.
13. Selfie / Akt I, 2018, pencil on paper, 27,9 x 20 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching. It is a nude self portrait of the artist. She is sitting, and looking distantly to the front/right. She is wearing nothing but glasses. Her body is fat and soft, with belly folds and cellulite, her breasts saggy. She is beautiful.
14. Selfie / Akt III, 2018, pencil on paper, 20 x 27,9 cm.
A pencil drawing in detailed hatching. It is a nude self portrait of the artist. She is wearing nothing but glasses. She is lying on a bed on her back, viewn from the side. Her legs and knees are angled, one leg crossed over te other which is standing on the bed. Her head is resting on a pillow, her eyes look at the viewer with a very soft and tender expression. Her body is as soft and fat and beautiful as in the previous picture.
1. My Gender Is GOLD, 2021.
A photo of white person in drag. They wear a golden glitter flower crown, a golden glitter beard, and a transparent bra with beads covering their nipples.
2. MY I, 2018.
A photo of a detail of a mirror on a wall. The wall is white/grey, and the mirror shows part of a bed. A white, naked person is sitting on it. Only details of their hands, feet and belly are visible. Their body is soft and fat. Several transparent versions of the image are layered on top of each other.
3. MY II, 2018.
A variation of photo 2.
4. MY III, 2018.
Another variation of the previous 2 photos. A little more of the person is visible. They are sitting turned to the right, soft body, saggy boobs, beautiful.
5. MY IV, 2018.
Another variation of the previous photos. The person is lying on their back, hands on their belly and their leg. One nude breast is visible.
6. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A photo of a white, fat person in drag. They are wearing a pastel pink beard, a flower crown, and a black outfit. Their blouse is transparent and lacey, and their pants are transparent/lacey in the front, top to bottom. They are sitting casually on a chair.
7. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A variation of the previous picture. This time, a closeup portrait, showing the person's green eyes in the light shining on their face from the right.
8. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
Another variation of the previous pictures. This time, the perspective is from below.
9. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
The same person in drag, in a slightly different look. Their beard is still pastel pink, and they are wearing black, but it's a different, smaller, glittery flower crown on their head. This one is a closeup portrait.
10. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A very closeup portrait of the same person in drag, in black and white. Beard is dark this time. Their expression is serious and intense.
11. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
Again, the same person in drag. Their beard is brown, their flower crown is blue and beige. They are wearing a cream-colored lingerie-shirt. They are lying relaxed on their back on a black wooden surface, eyes closed, legs angled up, hands on their breasts.
12. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
Variation of the previous: Same look, but a closeup portrait. They are looking at the camera with their mouth slightly open.
13. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
The same person in drag, this time with a hot pink beard, black underwear, fishnet tights, and a black bondage rope tied around their torso.
14. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A variation of the previous look, the person sitting in a different position, with one hand between their legs.
15. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A variation of the previous look, this time, it's only the person's back that is visible, with the bondage rope around it, and black tattoos on their skin.
16. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
A variation of the previous look, the person sitting in a different position, their right thumb hooked in the bondage rope. The colours are altered so the beard looks more neon orange here than pink.
17. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
The same person in drag, this time witrh a flower bra, in orange and red colours, the flower crown as well, and a flower beard in the same colour scheme. They are wearing black tights, sitting, leaning on a wall, eyes closed, hands between their legs.
18. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
Closeup portrait of the same person in drag, with a fluffly black glitter beard, a black flower crown, and the same black blouse as in picture 6. Their eyes are very green, their expression strong and powerful.
19. DRAG Series, 2019-2021.
Another variation of the look in pic 6, with the pastel pink beard and the transparrent black blouse. It's another portrait from a slightly different angle than before.
1. BOA, 2018, 140 x 100 cm.
A painting in acrylic on a large size canvas. It is a nude self portrait of the artist. They are sitting in a cross-legged position, though their left foot is pointing towards the viewer. Their hands meet on their other foot, one is holding their ankle, the other is holding the other hand's wrist. Their body is soft and fat, their breasts saggy, and they have bruises on their arms and legs, as well as some stretch marks and scars on their belly. The person is wearing nothing but glasses and stud earrings. Their brown hair is up in a high bun. The expression on their face is serious, focused. They are looking directly at the viewer. In the background, there is darkness, black, maybe a cave. Directly behind them, behind their head on the right side, and next to them on the left, one can see the scaly surface of snake skin, of a green, shiny, huge snake hidden behind them in the dark.
2. Fry Family, 2021, 30 x 40 cm.
A family portrait of two parents and three children. Two of the daughters are adults, both white, one with short, brown hair and glasses, one with long, blonde hair in one braid. The third daughter is younger, Black, and holding up the family cat to be included in the picture. The father is blond and has a beard, and the mother has long, grey hair. They are very close together, all smiling.
3. Fight or Flight, 2017, 140 x 100 cm.
Another self portrait in acrylic. The artist is sitting on front of a black background, their hands left and right next to them, holding on to the surface they are sitting on. They are wearing a black dress, black tights, and a dark green sweater jacket. Their brown hair is up in a bun, and they are wearing glasses. They seem rather tense and the are looking down to the front right.
4. Goldfish, 2013, 90 x 70.
Acrylic painting, still life. This is a reference to the painting "The Death of Marat" by David / a pictorial quote. Here, there is a low table standing next to a commode. On the table, there is a green cloth, and a yellow, narrow one on top of it. On it lies a crossword-puzzle book, and a pen. On the commode, there is a white cloth, draped so that it falls on to the table as well. On it stands a goldfish bowl. In it, there is water and some water plants, which, if one looks closely, form a human face. The goldfish, however, is lying in a puddle on the floor at the bottom edge of the picture.
5. Black Box, 2014, 100 x 140 cm.
An acrylic painting showing a racetrack, like in a car race video game. In the background, there are neon lines of light, like a visualisation of computer data. In the front right corner, the racetrack dissolves into these lines of light, too. On the street, there are 3 big dogs running, one of which still consists of yellow-green lines of lights, one is a fully formed dog, and the third is half and half.
6. Abzweigung, 2014, 70 x 100 cm.
A painting in acrylic on canvas of an apartment. The view is from a hallway leading into a room on the opposite side, and another room to the right. On the right, one can only see part of an open door, but nothing of the room itself. The other room seems quite big, and there is a window on one wall, with green/nature on the outside. The floor in the whole place is brown and shiny.
7. ver-rückt, 2014, 70 x 100 cm.
An acrylic painting of another inside room. This one is very dark, mostly a dark blue, and it seems to be part of a public building. On the right, there is a double glass door, but behind it, a concrete wall, so the doors cannot be opened. Only a small gap on the top lets in a beam of sunlight, which draws a wide, warm stripe onto the wall. On the outside, there are people walking buy, but only their feet are visible, as though the room were below the ground.
8. Sphäre, 2015, 60 x 80 cm.
An acrylic painting of a landscape. There is a big lake, with some hills in the background, and in the front, a stripe of land with some trees and fields. The picture is mostly in warm, orange and peachy colours.
9. Kosmos, 2014, 70 x 100 cm
Another inside room, painted in acrylic. The room is grey and seems to be a windowless basement room. On the left wall, there is a white radiator. On the wall opposite the viewer, big, brown, wooden, empty shelves. On the right, there is a green door, with the doorknob missing. On the door, a light reflection suggests a ceiling lamp outside of the picture. The door is standing open slightly. Through the small gap between door and doorframe, between the hinges, one can see a few stripes/colors/light that suggest a hallway outside the room. The viewer's perspective is from slightly behind the door, as if hidden in this room.
1. - 5. are all illustrations from the artist's fourth volume of poetry, blood & ink.
They are all simple black line drawings on white. The first shows two people hugging. The second shows a child squatting and trying to hold a cloud of black scribbles, in the center of which crouches a tiny stick figure. The third picture shows a portrait of a person with a high bun, eyes closed, little dots and stars floating around them. The fourth picture is a drawn version of the painting "BOA", with the nude person sitting cross-legged, just as in the painting, and a snake in the background, here in a bit more detail than in the painting. And the fifth picture shows a faceless child, standing, head turned towards the viewer, their body quite tense, wearing a dress.
6. Sexuality Series, 2016.
This series actually contains 10 pieces, but here, only 6 are shown in one picture. They are all small drawings of insects or arachnoids mating. The single images have their own, humorous titles: same sex (snails), BDSM (spiders), threesome (bugs), fling (butterflies), one night stand (mosquitoes), ejaculation (slugs), friends with benefits (gnats), promiscuous (ladybirds).
1. - 3. -ISM I - III
All three of these pictures are detailed drawings, each inside a deep, white, square frame. There is some distance between the glass of the frame and the pictures. On the glass, there are red lines, a few numbers and letters. Some of the lines are dotted or dashed. They outline a few of the things on the drawings behind, but also deviate from the pictures in some ways. The drawings show 1) a piece of ground, with some cigarette butts, stones, and leaves; 2) a landscape with some fields and hills; and 3) a closeup of some plants, maybe grass and a few flowers, from the side, like from the perspective of a small animal.
Sie hielt das runde, kupferfarbene Gefäß fest in ihren kleinen Händen. Barfuß ging sie, langsam, vorsichtig. Bloß nichts verschütten. Bloß nicht. Wie in Zeitlupe hob sie einen Fuß und bewegte ihn in der Dunkelheit ein Stück nach vorn. Mit dem Ballen stieß sie auf etwas Kaltes, Kleines, Scharfkantiges. Sie blickte nach unten. Der Boden war staubig, und es war in dem dumpfen, spärlichen Licht schwer zu erkennen, aber da lagen lauter glänzende Metallstücke. Überall verteilt, man musste wirklich aufpassen, nicht auf sie zu treten. Aber die kannte sie schon. Es waren Zahnräder, die lagen da schon immer herum. Sie gehörten dazu, zu dieser Welt. Zu dieser engen, düsteren, verstaubten Wohnung. Was auch dazugehörte, waren die Ranken. Also, es waren eigentlich keine richtigen Ranken, doch sie wusste nicht, wie sie es sonst nennen sollte. Sie wirkten wie schwarzes Dornengestrüpp, das die Wände hochkletterte. Doch wenn man sie sich näher ansehen wollte, erkannte man, dass sie nicht fest waren, nicht greifbar. Unklar, ob es Gas war oder Flüssigkeit, vielleicht eine Art Rauch? Undurchdringliche, undurchsichtige, dicke, gezackte Stränge, die sich an allen senkrechten Flächen der Wohnung hinaufwanden, sich in den Zimmerecken wie Spinnweben sammelten und die schmutzigen Fenster verdunkelten, durch die ohnehin nur wenig Licht drang - es war, als wäre draußen immer Dämmerung. Alles hier war eingehüllt in dieses Gewirr aus schwarzen Linien, von dem immerzu ein leises, bedrohliches Flüstern auszugehen schien. Meistens konnte sie nichts verstehen von den Wörtern, die so durcheinander aus allen Ecken zischelten. Aber manchmal, manchmal wurde es laut. Dann musste sie sich ganz stillhalten und das Gefäß noch fester umklammern, damit es nicht überschwappte. Dann wurde das Flüstern zu einem Sturm aus Schreien, aus ununterbrochenem Gebrabbel, aus gebrüllten Worten, die ihr um den Kopf schlugen und in ihren Ohren donnerten, und ihr sagten, dass sie hier nichts zu suchen habe. Dass sie hier alles zerstören würde. Dass sie verschwinden solle. Doch sie hätte nicht verschwinden können. Sie wusste nicht, wie. Sie kannte nur die Welt innerhalb dieser Wände. Und sie konnte auch nicht. Sie musste doch bleiben. Sie musste aufpassen. Sie musste helfen hier. Und überhaupt, wenn Türen hier verschlossen waren, öffneten sie sich nur selten. Sie selbst hatte noch nie eine Tür aufbekommen.
Aber heute, heute war die Tür zum Wohnzimmer offen. Die Tür, aus der, wie es schien, die Rauchranken wuchsen. Die Tür, die sie Tag für Tag anstarrte, hoffend. Flehend. Und immer blieb sie zu. Aber jetzt stand sie offen, nur einen Spalt.
Sie schubste das kleine, silberne Rädchen mit der Zehenspitze zur Seite und setzte umsichtig ihren Fuß auf dem rauen Boden ab. Einen Schritt geschafft. Einen Schritt, ohne etwas von der schwarzen, tintenartigen Flüssigkeit zu verschütten, mit der der Becher in ihren Händen bis zum Rand gefüllt war. Langsam, sodass kaum eine Bewegung sichtbar war, wagte sie einen weiteren Schritt in Richtung der Tür, die vom Flur ins Wohnzimmer führte. Leise schlich sie näher, immer bedacht, das Gefäß ruhig zu halten. Von drinnen klang laut der Fernseher. Stimmen, Musik, Lachen. Bläuliches Licht fiel durch den offenen Türspalt und warf einen flimmernden Streifen auf den Boden, in dem die Zahnrädchen blitzend funkelten. Geräuschlos schob sie sich auf den Spalt zu. Als sie nur noch Zentimeter von der Tür entfernt war, hielt sie inne. Ihr Herz klopfte jetzt so laut, dass sie meinte, es würde die schwarze Flüssigkeit in ihrem Gefäß erschüttern. Die Oberfläche zitterte leicht. Was passieren würde, wenn sie auch nur einen Tropfen davon vergoss, daran wollte sie gar nicht denken. Sie musste wirklich, wirklich vorsichtig sein. Angespannt spähte sie durch den Spalt. Von hier war nur der Fernseher zu erkennen, die einzige Lichtquelle in dem sonst dunklen, von Rauchranken zugewucherten Raum. Mit zusammengekniffenen Augen blickte sie auf den Bildschirm, doch sie sah nur verschwommene Farben, die sich dort bewegten und flackerten, und obwohl sie angestrengt lauschte, verstand sie nichts von den Worten, die aus den Lautsprechern drangen. Sie hielt die Luft an und stupste sachte mit dem Fuß gegen die Tür. Mit einem leichten Knarren fiel diese ein Stück weiter auf, sodass das Licht des Fernsehers auf ihre nackten Beine und den Saum ihres Kleides geworfen wurde. Vorsichtig trat sie über die Schwelle und blickte sich um. Sie konnte den Umriss einer Gestalt erkennen, die auf dem Sofa saß, die Füße hochgelegt, zugedeckt, und stumm und reglos auf den Fernseher blickend.
„Mama?“ traute sie sich flüstern. Die Gestalt bewegte sich nicht.
„Mama?“ sagte sie noch einmal, ein wenig lauter.
Keine Reaktion. Sollte sie es wagen? Minutenlang stand sie da, ihr Gefäß umklammert, und starrte auf die wie eingefroren wirkende Gestalt.
„MAMA!“ rief sie auf einmal laut.
Nichts geschah. Der Fernseher dröhnte weiter, bunte Lichter tanzten auf dem Bildschirm und fielen auf das Gesicht ihrer Mutter, flackerten in ihren starren Augen.
„Ma-... Mama?“ hauchte sie noch einmal, verzweifelt.
Sie merkte, wie sich ein großer, schwarzer Klumpen in ihrem Hals verknotete.
„Mama… bitte. Hörst du mich? Bitte…“
Ihre Stimme wurde immer heiserer. Sie schluckte. Der Klumpen blieb, wurde größer. So groß, dass er nicht mehr nur im Hals steckte.
„Mama...“
Er trieb aus, floss in ihr Herz, ihren Bauch.
„Bitte...“
Immer leiser wurde ihre Stimme. Der schwarze Klumpen erstickte alles. Und dann fing er an, in ihren Kopf zu steigen. Ihre Sicht verschwamm, der Lärm des Fernsehers schwoll an, nun mischte sich das Zischeln aus den Rauchranken mit in das Grollen, war längst kein Zischeln mehr, war jetzt Geschrei, Geschrei in ihren Ohren. Wie ein Sturm fegte plötzlich alles um sie. Ihre Beine wie angewurzelt, konnte sie sich nicht bewegen. Keinen Ton mehr von sich geben. Ihre Stimme war aus ihrem Hals gesprungen. Irgendwohin gefallen, auf den dunklen Boden, weggerollt, ins Nichts. Stumm blickte sie zu der Gestalt auf dem Sofa, doch ihre Mutter regte sich nicht.
Eine kleine, glänzende, schwarze Träne lief aus ihrem Auge, rann ihre Wange hinab und fiel leise in das Gefäß in ihren Händen.
Und in dem Moment, in dem der Tropfen die Oberfläche berührte, wurde alles still. Als hätte jemand den Ton abgedreht, nicht nur vom Fernseher, sondern von der Welt. Die Stille drückte auf jede Stelle ihres Körpers, quetschte ihren Kopf zusammen, legte sich um ihr Herz, presste auf ihre Brust. Sie konnte nicht mehr atmen, nicht mehr sprechen, nichts mehr. Wie in Trance blickte sie auf ihre Hände hinab und sah, wie Bäche von schwarzer Tintenflüssigkeit geräuschlos aus dem Gefäß strömten. Über ihre Finger, über ihr Kleid, ihre Beine hinab, überflutete das Schwarz den Boden, auf dem sie stand. Und ihr Herz brach aus ihrer Brust und flog durch das Zimmer, schlug völlig lautlos an die gegenüberliegende Wand und fiel herab auf den schmutzigen Teppich, wo es leblos liegen blieb. Ihr Körper, leer, wurde nach hinten geschleudert und sie landete auf der Schwelle zum Flur, wo Staub und Zahnräder durch den Aufprall aufgewirbelt wurden. Das Gefäß fiel. Und fiel. Langsam. Es schien eine Ewigkeit zu dauern, bis es schließlich still auf dem tiefschwarzen See aufschlug, der aus ihm hervorgequollen war, und der sich jetzt über den Wohnzimmerboden erstreckte, das Flackern des Fernsehers in der Oberfläche spiegelnd.
*
Sie konnte sich nicht erinnern, wie lange ihre Teile so verstreut in der Wohnung gelegen hatten. Aber sie wusste, dass der Ton irgendwann wieder an war. Das gleiche Rauschen des Fernsehers, das Flüstern und Zischen von den Ranken an den Wänden. Und sie kniete auf dem Wohnzimmerboden, schöpfte mit ihren Händen die Flüssigkeit zurück in den kleinen, kupferfarbenen Becher. Hand für Hand, Tropfen für Tropfen. Ihre Mutter saß noch immer wie versteinert auf dem Sofa und starrte zum Bildschirm. Sie hatte nichts bemerkt von dem Mädchen, das da direkt neben ihr in lauter Stücke zersprungen war. Sie bemerkte auch nichts von dem Mädchen, das über den Boden kroch und ihr Herz, zerkratzt und voller Schmutz, aus dem Zimmereck auflas, und es vorsichtig wieder in ihre Brust schob.
Langsam trat sie zurück zur Tür. Ihr Körper zitterte, doch hielt sie ihre Hände so ruhig wie sie konnte, die sich jetzt wieder um den Tintenbecher schlossen. Sie konnte noch nicht wieder fühlen, war leer. So spürte sie auch nicht, ob sie wieder vollständig zusammengesetzt war. Angestrengt sah sie noch einmal ins Zimmer zurück, suchte den Boden ab nach Teilen von sich, die sie übersehen hatte. Doch sie fand nichts, und so drehte sie sich schweigend um und verschwand wieder in den grauen Flur. Nach ein paar Schritten merkte sie erschrocken, dass ihr doch etwas fehlte. Sie hatte ihre Stimme zurückgelassen. Die lag noch dort unter dem Sofa. Aber sie konnte jetzt nicht mehr zurück. Sobald sie über die Schwelle getreten war, hatte sich die Tür wieder fest verschlossen. Keine Chance. Ihre Stimme blieb bei ihrer Mutter.
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Was war denn das hier für ein seltsamer Ort? Weit und breit nichts, überhaupt nichts. Nur grauer Dunst in dieser sonderbaren Dimension, die ansonsten völlig leer zu sein schien. Tagelang traf man hier nicht auf das geringste Etwas, keinen Menschen, kein Tier, nicht einmal Land oder Meer, nicht einmal ein Sandkorn. Und absolute Stille herrschte hier. Es war unheimlich, als ob man in einem Vakuum verloren gegangen wäre. Und ob es wirklich Tage waren, die da vergingen, war auch unklar. Es wurde nämlich nicht dunkel, aber es wurde auch nicht richtig hell. Es gab hier wohl keine Sonne, keinen Mond, keine Nacht, und so natürlich auch keine Tage. Nein, tatsächlich schien an diesem absonderlichen Ort überhaupt keine Zeit zu vergehen.
Mit ausgebreiteten Armen glitt ein Kind durch das Nichts. Es hatte eisblaue Augen und sah ein bisschen frech aus mit den Grübchen in den Wangen und dem wilden Lockenschopf in einem dunklen, erdigen Grün. Ein mitternachtsblauer Umhang spannte sich von den Händen bis zu den Füßen, und so flog es mit wehendem Haar durch den unendlichen Raum. Vielleicht hätte es seinen letzten Aufenthaltsort nicht verlassen sollen, dachte es sich. Aber da war es auch nicht mehr zu ertragen gewesen. Nicht zu ertragen waren auch die Magenschmerzen, die vor lauter Hunger in seinem Bauch zwickten. Es wurde wirklich Zeit, dass jetzt hier mal etwas passierte! Es konnte doch nicht sein, dass es hier weit und breit einfach überhaupt nichts gab... Doch so war es. Tiefer und tiefer schwebte das Kind in das Nichts hinein, in alle Richtungen bodenloser Abgrund. Langsam machte es sich ehrlich Sorgen. Konnte es noch umkehren? Würde es in die Welt zurückfinden, wo es die letzte Zeit gelebt hatte? Es war losgezogen in der Hoffnung, etwas Neues zu entdecken.
Als es gerade zu dem Schluss gekommen war, dass es hier definitiv nichts aufzustöbern gab, erschien ein winziger Punkt in seinem Sichtfeld. Es kniff die Augen zusammen, doch beim besten Willen war das, was da war, noch viel zu weit entfernt, als dass man es hätte erkennen können. Für einen kurzen Moment zog es einen Arm näher zum Körper, sodass sich seine Flugbahn auf den Punkt ausrichtete und düste darauf zu. Nach und nach wurde der kleine Fleck erst zu einem Viereck und dann zu einem verwinkelten, dreidimensionalen, dunkelgrauen Gebilde. Was zur Hölle war denn das? Doch nach weiteren zweihundert Metern (wenn man das an diesem Ort überhaupt bemessen konnte) erkannte das Kind so etwas wie ein Haus, oder vielmehr eine Wohnung, die da einsam und verlassen im leeren Grau hing. Mit einer ausgedehnten Kurve flog das Kind um das Gebilde herum und erblickte eine Eingangstür, vor der ein Stück Fußboden hervorragte. Es sah aus, als würde er zu einem Treppenhaus gehören, das aber fehlte. Dort, wo in einem herkömmlichen Wohngebäude die Stufen anfangen würden, endete der kleine Steg, und brach ab ins Nichts. Mit Schwung landete das Kind direkt vor der Tür und betrachtete sie. Sie war aus fahlem, ausgeblichenem Holz und sah aus, als sei sie seit hunderten von Jahren nicht geöffnet worden. Die Wand, in der sie eingelassen war, war so farblos wie der Rest dieser eigenartigen Welt und an manchen Stellen bröckelte der Putz ab. Neben der Tür befand sich ein kleines Fenster. Auf Zehenspitzen streckte sich das Kind hinauf, um hineinzusehen, doch es war zu hoch. Alles, was dahinter auszumachen war, sah aus wie düstere Schatten. Vielleicht war diese Wohnung schon lange verlassen? Oder eine Hexe wohnte hier, wie im Märchen?
„Was soll’s, ich brauch was zum Essen“, dachte sich das Kind, klopfte entschlossen an die Tür und lauschte neugierig. Von drinnen war nichts zu hören. Noch einmal klopfte es. War das ein Rascheln? Hm... Vielleicht mal ans Fenster? Es streckte die Hand nach oben und trommelte mit den Fingerknöcheln gegen die Scheibe.
„Hallo? Ist da wer?“ rief es laut.
Da bewegte sich doch eindeutig etwas hinter der Tür. „Hallo? Ich brauche Hilfe!“
Doch niemand reagierte. Abermals tappte es energisch an das Fenster. Da! Wieder ein Geräusch! War das ein Maunzen? Es hörte sich ganz danach an, als sei da drinnen eine Katze. Und da fiel dem Kind eine kleine Klappe unten in der Tür ins Auge, die es vorher nicht bemerkt hatte. Es ging in die Hocke und lehnte sich nach vorn. Mit den Fingerspitzen probierte es, das kleine Türchen aufzustoßen, doch es schien durch etwas auf der anderen Seite blockiert zu sein. Ein wenig fester presste es die Handballen gegen die Luke. Sie lockerte sich etwas. Kurzentschlossen richtete sich das Kind auf und kickte mit dem Fuß kräftig gegen das Holz. Ein lautes Klirren erschallte. Die Klappe war jetzt frei und konnte an seinen Scharnieren hin- und herbaumeln, und so drückte das Kind sie nach oben und spähte neugierig hinein.
Trotz der Dunkelheit konnte es ein glänzendes Silbertablett erkennen, das auf dem Boden lag. Und dahinter, an die Wand gekauert, ein anderes Kind. Es war barfuß und trug ein zerschlissenes Kleid, das genauso grau war wie der Rest dieser eigenartigen Wohnung. Und neben ihm stand... eine Katze. Hatte es doch richtig gehört! Und diese Katze war das Einzige, was sich von all der Eintönigkeit unterschied. Ihr rotblondes Fell schien, umgeben von all dem Grau, regelrecht zu glühen.
„Hey du! Kannst du mir helfen?“ fragte das Kind mit einer glasklaren, glockenhellen Stimme. „Lass mich doch rein!“
„Ich k-kann nicht“, flüsterte das blasse Mädchen nervös. „Ich krieg die Türen nicht auf.“
„Dann eben ein Fenster!“
„Das geht auch nicht.“
„Weißt du, ich bin gerade hier gelandet, und ich hab seit Tagen nichts gegessen. Hier ist weit und breit nichts. Ich hatte gehofft, hier Zuflucht zu finden.“
„Ich würde dir gerne helfen, aber ich weiß wirklich nicht, wie man die Türen und die Fenster hier aufkriegt“, krächzte das Mädchen kaum hörbar.
„Achso. Hm... Verdammt, ich kann nicht nachdenken. Mein Bauch tut so weh vor lauter Hunger.“
„Warte,“ hauchte das graue Kind und stand auf. Sonderbar, warum bewegte es sich denn so langsam? Wie in Zeitlupe. Und seine Stimme war auch kaum hörbar, wenn es sprach. Komisches Ding. Jetzt war es aus dem Sichtfeld verschwunden. Einen Moment war nur ein Geklimper zu hören. Ungeduldig wippte das Kind draußen auf den Füßen hin und her. Dann erschien das absonderliche Mädchen wieder und stellte eine Schale und eine Tasse auf dem Tablett ab, das immer noch auf dem Boden lag und schob es so zaghaft, als würde es gleich explodieren, in Richtung Tür, bis es an der kleinen Öffnung anstieß.
„Hier,“ flüsterte es heiser. „Was anderes hab ich leider nicht.“
Auf dem Tablett stand eine Schale mit Cornflakes neben einer Tasse mit Tee.
„Oh, super!“ rief das Kind und griff nach der Schale. „Genau das brauche ich jetzt!“
Es nahm den Löffel in die Hand und begann, sich die Cornflakes genüsslich in den Mund zu schaufeln.
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She was holding the round, copper coloured vessel tightly in her small hands. She was barefoot, walking slowly, cautiously. Do not spill it. Just don’t. As if in slow motion, she lifted her foot and moved it slightly forwards in the darkness. With the ball of her foot, she hit something cold, small, and sharp. She looked down. The floor was dusty, and in the gloomy, sparse light, it was difficult to see: There were dozens of shiny metal pieces lying around. Scattered everywhere, one really had to be careful not to step on them. She was, however, used to them. They were gears, and they had always been there. They belonged to this world. This narrow, sinister, dusty flat. Another thing that belonged here were the vines. Well, they actually weren’t real vines, but she didn’t know what else to call them. They seemed like black bramble climbing up the walls. At a closer look, though, it became apparent that they were not solid or tangible. Uncertain if it was liquid or gas, maybe some sort of smoke? Impenetrable, shadowy, thick, jagged tendrils, winding up all vertical surfaces, accumulating in the corners like spider webs and obscuring the dirty windows, which let very little light pass through to begin with – the outside world seemed to linger in constant twilight. Everything in here was cloaked in this tangle of black lines, which continually emitted a quiet, ominous whisper. Most often, she could not understand any of the jumbled words hissed from all corners. Sometimes, however, sometimes it got loud. Whenever that happened, she was forced to hold completely still and cling to her vessel even more tightly, so it would not overflow. And the whispering would grow into a storm of cries, of incessant jabbering, of blared words, buzzing around her head and thundering in her ears, telling her she wasn’t welcome here. Telling her she was destroying everything in here. Telling her she was supposed to leave. But she couldn‘t have left. She did not know how. The world inside these walls was everything she knew. And even if she had been able to, she wasn’t allowed to go. She had to stay. She had to help here. And anyway, if doors were closed in here, they usually remained so. She herself had never managed to open a door.
But today – today, the door leading into the living room was open. The door from where, as it appeared, the smoke tendrils grew. The door she always stared at, day by day, hoping. Pleading. Still it had always remained sealed. But now it was in fact standing open, if only a crack.
She pushed the small, silver wheel aside with the tip of her toe and set down her foot warily on the grimy floor. One step done. One step, without spilling any of the black, ink-like fluid with which the cup in her hands was filled up to the rim. So slowly that nary a movement was visible, she dared taking another step towards the door linking the hallway to the living room. Quietly, she crept closer, always eager to keep the vessel still. Inside, the television was blasting loudly. Voices, music, laughter. Bluish light fell through the open crack of the door and cast a glimmering stripe on the floor, making the gears twinkle. Soundlessly, she slid closer to the gap. Being only inches away from the door, she paused. Her heart was beating so loudly, she was sure the black liquid in her vessel would be disturbed. The surface was trembling slightly. What would happen if she shed even one drop of it – she couldn’t bare to imagine. She had to be really,
really careful. Tensely, she peered through the gap. From here, only the television could be made out, the single source of light in the otherwise dark room, overgrown with smoke tendrils. Squinting, she glanced over to the screen, but all she could see were blurry shapes moving and flickering, and even though she listened intensely, she did not understand any of the words echoing from the speakers. She held her breath and tapped the door gently with her foot. With a slight creak, it opened a little further so that the light emanating from the television was thrown on her naked legs and the hem of her dress. Cautiously, she stepped over the threshold and looked around. She could see the silhouette of a figure sitting on the sofa, feet up and under a blanket, and gazing silently and inertly at the screen.
‘Mama?’ she dared to whisper. The figure did not move.
‘Mama?’ she repeated, a bit louder.
No reaction. Should she take the risk? For several minutes she was standing there, her hands clenched around her vessel, looking at the seemingly frozen figure.
‘MAMA!’ she shouted at once.
Nothing happened. The television kept rumbling, colourful lights danced on the screen and fell on her mother’s face, glinting in her staring eyes.
‘Ma-... Mama?’ she breathed once more, desperate.
She felt a big, black clump knotting in her throat.
‘Mama... please. Do you hear me? Please...’
Her voice became more and more croaky. She swallowed. The clump remained, grew even bigger. So big that it was not just sitting in her throat anymore.
‘Mama...’
It sprouted, flowed into her heart, her stomach.
‘Please...’
Her voice was getting quieter and quieter. The black clump stifled everything. And then it began to rise into her head. Her sight blurred, the noise of the television was growing louder, now the hissing from the smoke tendrils mingled with the rumbling, was no longer a whisper, was screaming now, screaming in her ears. All of a sudden, everything was raging around her like a storm. Her legs petrified, she could not move. Nor make a sound. Her voice had jumped out of her throat. Had fallen somewhere on the dark floor, rolled away, into nothingness. Mute, she glanced at the figure on the sofa, but her mother was as motionless as before. A small, shiny, black tear ran out of her eye, down her cheek, and fell quietly into the cup in her hands.
And in the very moment the drop touched the surface, everything became silent. As if someone had switched off the volume, not only the tv’s but the entire world’s. The silence pressed onto every inch of her body, squeezed her head, wrapped itself around her heart, pushed on her chest. She could no longer breathe, nor speak, nor anything else. Like in trance, her eyes wandered down to her hands and she saw a torrent of black fluid streaming from her vessel soundlessly. Across her fingers, down her dress, and down her legs, the black flooded the floor she was standing on. And her heart burst out of her chest, flew through the room, hit against the opposite wall without making a single noise, and fell on the dirty rug, without life. Her body, empty, was hurled backwards and she landed on the threshold to the hallway, where dust and gears were whirled up by the impact. The cup was falling. And falling. Slowly. It seemed to last an eternity, until it finally immersed silently in the jet-black lake which had welled up from it, and which now spread all across the living room floor, the flickering from the television reflected in its surface.
*
She couldn’t remember how long her pieces had been lying scattered in the flat like this. But she knew that the sound was back at some point. The same buzzing of the tv, the whispering and hissing from the tendrils on the walls. And she was kneeling on the living room floor, and, with her hands, scooping the liquid back into the small, coppery cup. Hand by hand, drop by drop. Her mother was still sitting on the sofa as if turned into stone and was staring at the screen. She had not noticed the girl who had burst into pieces right next to her. Neither did she notice the girl who was now crawling across the floor, picking up her heart from the corner of the room, scratched and covered in dirt, and pushing it carefully back into her chest.
Slowly, she stepped back to the door. Her body was shaking, though she kept her hands as steady as she could, clenching to the cup of ink once again. Being empty, she was not yet able to feel anything. She was not able to sense if all her parts had retrieved their original place. Tensely, she looked back into the room, searched the floor for pieces of herself she might have overlooked. As she found nothing, she turned away silently and disappeared into the grey hallway. After a few steps she realized, alarmed, that something in fact was missing. She had left her voice. It was still lying there, under the sofa. But it was impossible to get back now. As soon as she had crossed the threshold, the door had firmly sealed itself again. No chance. Her voice remained locked in there, with her mother.
available in english soon
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What strange place was this? Far and wide, nothing. Nothing at all. Only grey mist in this peculiar dimension, which seemed to be completely empty otherwise. For days on end, you would not encounter the slightest thing, no human, no animal, not even land or sea, not even a grain of sand. And absolute silence prevailed here. It was eerie, as if you had got lost in a vacuum. And it was also unclear if it was really days which were passing by, as it never got dark, nor did it become truly bright. No sun, no moon, no night seemed to exist, hence, no days as well. No, in fact, no time at all appeared to pass in this odd place.
Arms extended, a child was coasting through the Nothing. They had ice-blue eyes and looked a bit impish with the dimples in their cheeks and the wild curly hair in a dark, earthy green. A midnight-blue cloak was stretched tight between their hands and feet, and so they were flying through the endless space with waving hair. Maybe they shouldn’t have left their last abode, they thought to themself. But it hadn’t been bearable there, either, any longer. Unbearable was also the ache pinching their stomach in hunger. It really was about time for something to happen here! It just couldn’t be that there was absolutely nothing here, far and wide... But so it was. Deeper and deeper, the child was floating into the Nothing, bottomless abyss in all directions. They started to get genuinely worried. Could they still turn back? Would they find back into the world they had been living in lately? They had set out in hopes of discovering something new.
Just as they had reached the conclusion that there was definitely nothing at all to ferret out, a tiny dot appeared in their view. They squinted, but, however hard the child was trying, whatever this thing was, it was still way too far off to be identified. For a short moment, they pulled one arm closer to their body honing their flight path in on the dot and whizzed towards it. By and by, the small spot was turning into a rectangle first, and then into an angled, three-dimensional, grey shape. What the heck was that? But after another six hundred feet (if that was even measurable in this place), the child recognised something resembling a house, or rather a flat, floating solitarily in the empty Grey. Taking an extensive curve, the child flew around the shape and spotted an entrance door, in front of which a small piece of floor was sticking out. It looked like it belonged to a staircase, which was missing though. Where in a common dwelling house the stairs would begin, the small footbridge ended, and broke off into the Nothing. With momentum, the child landed right in front of the door and looked at it. It was of ashen, pallid wood and appeared as if it had not been opened for centuries. The wall it was embedded in, was as colourless as the rest of this strange world and the plaster was crumbling off in some places. Beside the door, there was a small window. On the tip of their toes, the child stretched up to peep through, but it was too high. All they were able to make out behind it, looked like dark shadows. Maybe this flat had been deserted for a long time? Or a witch was living here, like in a fairy tale?
‘Ah, what the heck, I need something to eat’, the child thought, knocked on the door resolutely and listened curiously. From inside, nothing could be heard. They knocked once more. Was there a rustle? Hm... Maybe try the window? They reached up and drummed against the glass with their knuckles.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ they yelled loudly.
Clearly something was moving behind that door. ‘Hello? I need help!’
But nobody reacted. Again, they tapped against the window vigorously. There! Another sound! Was that a mew? It sounded like there was a cat in there. And then, the child saw a small flap at the bottom of the door which they hadn’t noticed before. They squatted and leaned forward. With their fingertips, they tried to push open the tiny door, but it seemed blocked by something on the other side. They pressed the balls of their thumbs harder against the flap. It loosened slightly. Impulsively, the child straightened up and kicked against the wood forcefully. A loud clang resounded. The hatch was now free and could dangle back and forth at its hinges, and so the child pushed it up and peeked inside curiously.
Despite the darkness, they could see a shiny silver tray lying on the floor. And behind it, cowered against the wall, another child. They were barefoot and wore a tattered dress as grey as the rest of this weird flat. And next to them was standing... a cat. They had heard right! And this cat was the only thing not matching all this monotony. Its reddish-blond fur seemed to downright glow, surrounded by all the grey.
‘Hey you! Can you help me?’ the child asked with a crystal clear, bell-like voice. ‘Come on, let me in!’
‘I c-cannot’, the pale girl whispered nervously.
‘I can’t get the doors open.’
‘Well, then a window!’
‘That doesn’t work, too.’
‘You know, I have just landed here, and I haven’t eaten anything for days. Far and wide, there is nothing around. I hoped I would find shelter here.’
‘I would like to help you, but I really don’t know how to get the doors and windows open’, the girl croaked barely audibly.
‘Oh, okay. Hm... Damn, I cannot think. My stomach is hurting so badly, because I’m so hungry.’
‘Wait,’ the grey child whispered and stood up. Strange, why was she moving so sluggishly? Like in slow-motion. And her voice was almost inaudible when she spoke. Weird little thing. Now, she had disappeared from view. A moment later, only some clinking was to hear. Impatiently, the child outside was swaying back and forth on their feet. Then, the odd girl appeared again, placed a bowl and a mug on the tray still lying on the floor, and pushed it so timidly towards the door, as though it was about to explode, until it hit the small opening.
‘Here’, she whispered hoarsely. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything else.’
On the tray, there was a bowl of cornflakes next to a mug filled with tea.
‘Oh, amazing!’ the child shouted and grabbed the bowl. ‘Just what I need!’
They took the spoon and began to scoop the cornflakes into their mouth with relish.
available in english soon
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DEFEKT
Die Erinnerung
ist vor langer Zeit
in Stille konserviert worden.
Stille voller Bilder.
Bilder voller Stille.
Sie hat nichts gesagt.
Die Stille hat es mir erzählt.
Ich hab es getragen.
Ich hab es gefühlt.
Ich wollte es lindern.
Ich sollte es mindern.
Geteiltes Leben.
Geteiltes Herz.
Doch ich kann es nicht ändern.
VERSCHWOMMEN
Mein Körper ist nicht mein Körper
Mein Körper ist vage
Darin ist Zersetzung
Dazwischen ist Nichts
Ich bin woanders.
Darüber
Dahinter
Daneben
Verschwommen
Verstummt
Verstummt
Stumm.
EINGEKREIST
Wenn ich flüster, bin ich zu leise.
Wenn ich atme, bin ich zu laut.
Es zieht um mich enge Kreise.
Es haftet auf meiner Haut.
Es haftet an meinen Händen
und an meinem Gesicht.
Es haftet an all meinen Enden.
Eigentlich gibt es mich nicht.
Wenn ich flüster, bin ich zu leise.
Wenn ich schreie, bin ich nicht da.
Immer enger zieht es die Kreise.
Was ich sage, ist nie wirklich wahr.
Meine Hände soll es nicht geben.
Mein Gesicht nicht, und meine Haut.
Eigentlich soll ich nicht leben.
Wenn ich atme, bin ich zu laut.
HAUCH
transparent
um ihre Augen
auf ihrer Haut
ein leises Echo von dir.
tiefblau
in meinem See
treibt verloren
ein leiser Schmerz.
tieftrüb
über den Wellen
schwingst du nur
als leiser Wind.
trocken
in meinem Hals
liegt deine Härte
als leiser Stein.
LUNGENKOLLAPS
Du hast aufgehört zu atmen
und mit dir
auch ich.
Mein rechter Lungenflügel
wurde aus meinem Körper gerissen.
Wo er war
ist alles aufgeschürft
aufgerauht
ausgeschabt
Dein Herz schlägt nicht mehr.
Mein Herz schlägt nicht mehr
so schnell.
Du hast aufgehört zu atmen.
Und mit dir
auch ich.
Erstickend
höre ich
die Stille.
WENIGER
Ich kann nicht verstehen
warum ich noch atme.
Ich kann nicht verstehen
warum ich mich schwerer fühle
obwohl von mir
jetzt weniger da ist.
Ich kann nicht verstehen
wie die Luft mich erreicht
sie ist so leicht
und ich so tief.
Ich kann nicht verstehen
warum ich noch atme.
FORT
Fort bin ich,
getrennt vom Leben.
Fort, im Nebel.
Fort, im Schweben.
Fort und allein
und voller Schreck.
Fort bin ich,
und kann nicht weg.
Fort bin ich,
aus aller Welt.
Fort aus dem Körper,
der nichts hält.
Fort aus dem Strom,
und aus den Fluten.
Fort von den Rissen,
die verbluten.
Fort aus dem Ich,
es ist zerbrochen.
Fort und verweht,
unausgesprochen.
VULKAN
Im tiefen Dunkel
unter Mauern und Stein
liegt es vergraben
will sich befreien.
Will nicht mehr warten
will hoch hinaus
will aus den Schatten
will endlich raus.
In dem Tiefdunkel
hinter dichtem Geäst
lodern die Funken
immer noch fest.
Wild und lebendig
und ohne Furcht
den drückenden Stimmen
wird nicht mehr gehorcht.
Aus dem Tiefdunkel
durchs Geäst alter Regeln
und die Mauer aus Angst
die den Durchgang versiegeln.
Will nicht mehr trauern
ist nicht mehr klein
will sich nicht vermauern
wird nun wirklich sein.
Aus dem Tiefdunkel
langsam und stark
erhebt sich das Wesen
das sich so lange verbarg.
- 'blood & ink' enthält ausschließlich englischsprachige Gedichte -
A(R)MOR
maybe I saw something in you
that wasn't there
maybe I loved something in you
that wasn't there.
trying to reach your heart
is like digging for a tiny spark of light
in an abyss of blades -
one won't get far without armor.
I don't want to wear a shield
I don't want to wield
a sword, this is not war,
I'm not a knight.
this is not my way to fight
I fight with love
and not with knives
and strive for light.
maybe I loved something in you
that wasn't there
and now you hate something in me
that isn't here.
ABSORPTION
I took your illness
and hid it away
in my stomach
to help you heal
I took your stillness
and hid it away
in my heart
to help you feel
I took your silence
and hid it away
in my throat
to help your voice through
But all that did was
make me ill
make me still
and make me mute, too.
POEM TO MYSELF
Overfilling
Overfeeling
Overflow
your universe
stream into remotest corners
sparks and tiny glitter pearls.
Tender you
are bravely breathing
bringing all the floods to calm.
Only you
your gentle hands can
bring the ever-healing balm.
Let me hold you
let me carry
let us be the sun we are
you and me, we are so very
bright, so brilliant.
Gleaming star.
MALFUNCTION
A long time ago
the memory was preserved
in stillness.
Stillness filled with images.
Images filled with stillness.
She said nothing.
The stillness told me about it.
I held it.
I felt it.
I wanted to ease it.
I ought to decrease it.
Divided life.
Divided heart.
But I cannot erase it.
BLURRY
My body is not my body
My body is vague
Dissolution inside
Nothing between
I am elsewhere.
Above
Behind
Beside
Blurry
Muted
Muted
Mute.
ENCIRCLED
I'm breathing too noisy
and I whisper too thin.
It encircles me closely.
It adheres to my skin.
It adheres to my hands.
It sticks to my face.
Clings to all my ends.
I am out of place.
I whisper too low.
I don't exist when I scream.
The circles are narrow.
My words just a dream.
My hands are invalid,
my face not allowed,
skin disintegrated,
when I breathe, I'm too loud.
TRACE
diaphanous
around her eyes
on her skin
a quiet echo of you.
deepblue
in my lake
forlornly floats
a quiet ache.
desolate
above the waves
you oscillate
as quiet wind.
desiccated
in my throat
lies your severity
a quiet stone.
LUNG COLLAPSE
You stopped breathing
and with you
I stopped, too.
My right lung
was ripped out of my body.
Where it was
all is scraped
scratched
abraded.
Your heart beats no more.
My heart beats no more
as fast as before.
You stopped breathing
and with you
I stopped, too.
Suffocating
I hear
the silence.
LESS
I can't understand
Why I still breathe.
I can't understand
why i feel heavier
when there is less
of me now.
I can't understand
how the air reaches me
it is so light
and I so deep.
I can't understand
why I still breathe.
GONE
Gone am I,
I hazy air.
Life is afar,
I float in blur.
Gone am I,
and I'm in fear.
Faint and lonesome,
staying here.
Gone am I,
the world is distant.
Gone from the body,
inconsistent.
Gone from the stream
and from the flood.
Gone from the cracks
pouring out blood.
Gone from my self
in pieces, broken.
Gone, blown away,
remain unspoken.
VOLCANO
In the deep dark
beneath walls and hard stone
it is still waiting
buried alone.
It is still breathing
it wants to flee
out of the shadows
up high and free.
In the deep dark
beyond thicket so dense
the sparks are still blazing
bright and intense.
Wild and alive
and without fear
the voices confining
it will no longer hear.
Out of the deep dark
through walls of old terrors
through the maze of old rules
and through adamant barriers.
It wants no more grief
it isn’t small
it wants relief
it will exist after all.
Out of the deep dark
slowly and strong
the creature arises
that was hidden so long.
A(R)MOR
maybe I saw something in you
that wasn't there
maybe I loved something in you
that wasn't there.
trying to reach your heart
is like digging for a tiny spark of light
in an abyss of blades -
one won't get far without armor.
I don't want to wear a shield
I don't want to wield
a sword, this is not war,
I'm not a knight.
this is not my way to fight
I fight with love
and not with knives
and strive for light.
maybe I loved something in you
that wasn't there
and now you hate something in me
that isn't here.
ABSORPTION
I took your illness
and hid it away
in my stomach
to help you heal
I took your stillness
and hid it away
in my heart
to help you feel
I took your silence
and hid it away
in my throat
to help your voice through
But all that did was
make me ill
make me still
and make me mute, too.
POEM TO MYSELF
Overfilling
Overfeeling
Overflow
your universe
stream into remotest corners
sparks and tiny glitter pearls.
Tender you
are bravely breathing
bringing all the floods to calm.
Only you
your gentle hands can
bring the ever-healing balm.
Let me hold you
let me carry
let us be the sun we are
you and me, we are so very
bright, so brilliant.
Gleaming star.
1. - 3. Carnation
A black linework tattoo on the inside of a white person's left upper arm. It's a flower, a carnation. The three pictures show it from slightly different angles.
4. Scarab Bugs
A big tattoo in black lines on a white person's back, between the shoulder blades. It shows the same scarab bug several times. It is mirrored and layered, so it forms a mandala-like, round ornamental shape.
5. - 9. Cat
Five pictures of the same tattoo from different angles. In black lines, a cat on a white person's right shoulder / back. The cat is upside down, in a twisted, but relaxed position, very cat-typical. Its tail reaches over the person's shoulder, so that the tip of it it visible from the front.
10. - 11. Cats
Another cat tattoo. This one is much smaller, on a Black person's inner ankle. It shows the outlines of two curled up, sleeping cats. Two pictures from two angles.
12. Little Prince Rose
Another black linework tattoo. On a white person's inner right arm. It's the rose from the book "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, so a rose with a glass bell above it.
13. Plant
Another black linework tattoo on a white person's skin. This time, on the right front shoulder. It's a small plant consisting of a stem and five leaves.
14. - 17. Enchanter's Nightshade
Very delicate linework tattoo of the weed enchanter's nightshade. It's on a white person's outer right calf. The pictures show it from different angles. One leaf is reaching over the curve of the shin to the front, so from the front view, only that leaf is visible.
18. Dog
A black linework tattoo of a dog's face / head on a white person's right shoulder blade.
All tattoo designs are black linework images.
1. A small bird on a thorny branch.
2. A picture of violets (though here in black).
3. The same butterfly twice, but mirrored and close together, to form an ornamental shape.
4. A stem with two roses and several leaves.
5. Another plant with several rounded leaves.
6. A carnation.
7. Another stem with leaves, more pointy ones this time. Wherever they overlap, these areas are filled in with black.
8. A flower with thin, pointy petals and two more buds.
9. A snail.
10. A flower head.
Anna-Maria Dirrigl
c/o COCENTER
Koppoldstr. 1
86551 Aichach
This is bold and this is strong. This is italic and this is emphasized.
This is superscript text and this is subscript text.
This is underlined and this is code: for (;;) { ... }. Finally, this is a link.
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i = 0;
while (!deck.isInOrder()) {
print 'Iteration ' + i;
deck.shuffle();
i++;
}
print 'It took ' + i + ' iterations to sort the deck.';| Name | Description | Price |
|---|---|---|
| Item One | Ante turpis integer aliquet porttitor. | 29.99 |
| Item Two | Vis ac commodo adipiscing arcu aliquet. | 19.99 |
| Item Three | Morbi faucibus arcu accumsan lorem. | 29.99 |
| Item Four | Vitae integer tempus condimentum. | 19.99 |
| Item Five | Ante turpis integer aliquet porttitor. | 29.99 |
| 100.00 | ||
| Name | Description | Price |
|---|---|---|
| Item One | Ante turpis integer aliquet porttitor. | 29.99 |
| Item Two | Vis ac commodo adipiscing arcu aliquet. | 19.99 |
| Item Three | Morbi faucibus arcu accumsan lorem. | 29.99 |
| Item Four | Vitae integer tempus condimentum. | 19.99 |
| Item Five | Ante turpis integer aliquet porttitor. | 29.99 |
| 100.00 | ||