The Kings of Rock 'n' Roll

Classes ended at 1 o’clock. That meant we would get light lunch from the bakery. Then head to your house, where the afternoon would sound like Prefab Sprout’s cassette. And then we’d play our games until the bus came to pick me, around 6, as all the relevant girls and irrelevant boys returned home.

Nothing

There was nothing, when I fell asleep. Just a white borderless landscape. No definitive horizon. No concepts. No contradictions.

When I woke up, a whole new world had been invented. There were traffic jams all over my body. Colourful crowds sang and fought with the same intensity. Mountains grew up, opening holes in the sky. These holes hurt. Then, it rained.

And all I wanted was to sleep again.

The Horizontal Day

My eyes are set straight,
The line across the sand,
Horizontal.
V
E
R
T
I
C
A
L
S

N
O
T

W
E
L
C
O
M
E

H
E
R
E
The deep blue edge on the horizon,
Drawn with a steady hand,
Horizontal.
V
E
R
T
I
C
A
L
S

A
R
E

H
E
A
T
H
E
N
S

H
E
R
E
Clouds thin and long and regimented,
Mimicking all they overlook,
On This Horizontal Day.

Henriette

Henriette,
Even at the crack of death,
My mouth is addicted to your name.
And my heart,
Well my heart can barely speak.
But it feels.
Believe me, it feels.

Henriette,
You were the only one,
Amongst the hundreds, the only one
That my heart
Accepted as the welcome guest,
But I guess
You were always busy...

With a loveless life to live,
You’d never dare to give
Your heart to a man
That’s broken so many.

Even though it’s him
You call at night.

Great Scott

Mad scientist invents cure for madness.

Creation

Slide a finger down the nape of the spoon. Taste it. Smooth and cold on the front of your tongue and sticking to the roof of your mouth. Dip your finger in and sneak another taste. Delicious before it's even finished. And mysterious. Put all your hopes in that tin and hope. Watch it rise up. Your very own edible Frankenstein. Eyes hungry glinting in the light of your kiln as hot air breathes life into its pours.

Where the Range Rovers grow

My eye, so ceaselessly cries,
For on this sunny Sunday afternoon,
My parents only care about trees and birds.
I want them to take me
Where the Range Rovers grow.

Where noses are stretched
At the smell of English roses,
Themselves inclining their heads
At the parked Mercedes Benz.

Don’t take me to the swans,
Let me feed CEO’s with eau de cologne,
See them fight each other with handshakes.

Take me to the place
Where everything’s expensive,
Except for the heir, that is free
To be whatever he wants to be.

The Monster!

Monster found! Strange name. Killed namer.