1.9.2013

I write

I write when I'm leaving
I write when I return
when I once again pack my back and continue the journey

I write from the destination
that I'm still on the halfway road
I write when it hurts so bad that there are no words to describe it
when I'm so grateful that it's impossible to point out
when I try to understand, when I try to overstand
when I try to be good, when I try to stop, when I try to accept

I write when I can't open my mouth but I have to say
so my heart wouldn't burst, paralyze, freeze
I write
when I've managed to open my mouth but haven't been able to dress up my thoughts in the right words
I write when I'm so sorry that I can't say it
and don't really feel like writing it down

I write when I'd like to hug the world but my hands aren't long enough
I write towards the morning, not to make the time pass –
the night flows into the ink, finds deeper words
not like the daylight that doesn't care about the mistakes I write so I could learn from them
to remember how I've been and who I've turned into
I'll write the last words when all has come to an end
I write because I've decided to write
and can no longer do anything even less

I write when I yearn for a lap
when I yearn away from a lap
when I yearn in a lap

I write when I yearn for loving, for love
I write when I need a hug
and when I need to relate
when I'm afraid that I'd have to start it all over again, I write
and start from the middle of the story when the steepest hills have already been climbed
and when my eyes are closing I stop writing
I've said enough this time around, I dream about writing
when I wake up I write again
to make everything start, to make myself share, to keep on going
I write badly ugly beautifully aggrressively quickly slowly
over under crookedly straight, leaning piles of paper on the floor
I write so I end up last in the race, so that the paper sucks me in
I write until my hand hurts so I forget what I've written
then I can say it all again, change my point of view
I write even if it was pointless even if all I said was bullshit
I write and hope to find the field where the herd lives
I write i.e. about my problems, like
I got binoculars
that always show you the sunset

I write even if I'd have the sky as a roof and a carpet for a bed
I write to keep myself alive, I write my shoes on and off
I write myself down to the bench, up from the bench
I write myself alive, dead, I write because I'm alive
I write because I have to, like I have to breath
I write at home, at my friend's, in a train, in a bus
I write to a notebook, to a book, on a computer, behind an inspection fee sheet
I write on your hand when we meet
I write on your back when we hug
I write on your lips when we kiss
I write because I have to and have the responsibility to
like an airplane without wings
which is obliged to a forced landing

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