Nico Zahn

the visit

Der Deutsche Designer — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 22:05:46 +0000

A long lost friend of my life entered for eight hours into my new enthralling life – it was a look at the past, the present and for sure the future. My past, for years walking through my past I fantasized about this day, about the possibility of mending mistakes that happened a few years back. A few years more I told myself – everything has its time and let go of it; my heart full of other things that it could not hold onto the past.

Through those years I walked unattached more people I met that hurt and fulfilled my heart, my dreams and my desires, though deep my sadness and anger still lured in me, I tried to forget things in those coming dreams, and desires. Unresolved sometimes is best, though the thought relents and one might forgive, but not forget. Hence, the time spent were filled with pictures of current lives, of our connected past, the unresolved future and the choices that seem to guide us.

Looking onto an idilic windy lake talking about materialistic philosophy, I seem to just want to listen then rather talk, then rather ask, or rather wonder, a deep silence entered my body were I felt for years there was something missing.

Though, after I returned home to the loving reception of my new life that seems to fulfill more my heart then I ever could want I thought a lot about the need to exist and our need to connect with were we come from: the people that understand us are fewer then we can count on our polydactyly hands and the chance we get for people to love, listen to us are even fewer, and of those who have them that stay with them, are just lucky.

Here come to Barbarians …

Der Deutsche Designer — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 10:54:04 +0000

I never get affected by picture of violence, because you think its far away from the familiar. I never get attached to pictures that make you wonder where did it all come from – but time and time again you grow up on the bathroom floor , like an oracle, a vent for frustration, a meditative violence humans haven’t seen after a few thousand of years in the roman colosseum. The same street I share my memories of love, friendship, welcomes and goodbyes are now filled with barbarians – and I ask are we really there? Has the city of creation of computer virtualization and sensitized and unrealistic film violence sets been caught with the imagination it has created? The city of Fight Club, Matrix, Hulk, Boondocks Saints – Toronto shuck today with the frustration and rage that reminds me no culture is safe, no technology will stop the human frustration that is set in its mind.
The bacterias that want to kill what they have built. I remember talking to a former colleague of mine in one of those deep thought parties where we discussed about the difference of art and design, and civilization – I told him we, humans, no matter culturally will develop no further then the Roman Empire. I stand to this as I imagine the feeling of a proud Roman in the city of Rome as it burns down to the ground by the screaming Huns, who we are, as they rape the knowledge and culture we have nurtured.

standing on a tail of a boat

Der Deutsche Designer — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 11:29:34 +0000

standing on a tail of a boat,
I see cliffs from the deep blue water, the warmth of the sun onto my body,
deteriorating my existence as the laughter of the waves hit the rock,
humiliating the author of this world,
I stand onto memories that I glimpsed from far off,
as it happened in the past,
the smile of her face,
the feeling of love,
the sadness of death,
to be strong – as I waited for him to breath the last breath,
too late to arrive,
as my keeper of my past has been long gone,
at times I think of them as the smile,
looking into the sun,
their voices blended in with waves,
the feeling of deep sadness climbs out of my chest,
heckling for my release, drifting by,
for I took on the present and the future telling,
me, standing on the tail of a boat,
watching red flowers dropping,
passing me by in,
as people clasp,
talk about themselves,
their existence pass

deep deep deeper

Der Deutsche Designer — Sat, 29 May 2010 22:24:09 +0000

time is a lovely note, its the dominator of yours,
languishing with your dreams of hope,
dasher of quested want, moons are high,
waiting for the jilted to come by, and spit its anger,
time is a arouse of fears, walking on glass,
wanted for everyone,
deep you looked into my pity,
as I run over your wanted skin,
look silently into your eyes of pleasure,
you grasp, removed, attached, removed, deep,
I cannot forget, your thrust into me,
years pass, time, is there to ask,
questions of impotence, questions of sounds,
holding onto to go deeper,
gone

memories of images

Der Deutsche Designer — Fri, 28 May 2010 09:27:25 +0000

It feels almost too long,
but you are gone now,
left memories in your images,
warm food, a sudden smile behind mirrors of colors,
the time I met you, the sudden touch of your presence,
I feels almost too long, anticipated thoughts when meeting you,
shy, gentle, wondering, who you are,
Images were your language, movements so sudden,
loved by many, private, the call of your disappearance,
over todays technology, my friend, crying,
still sad, when I see the blue sky, and the trees speak,
keep your message close, then,
It feels almost too long,
but you are gone now,
as memories left in your images

Its never that last …

Der Deutsche Designer — Fri, 21 May 2010 22:12:02 +0000

I thought I wanted to write another poem, but instead I thought I write a little bit about what things are currently in my head – its been now five months since I settled in the Netherlands and it has been interesting to say the least. Things that I have learned is that I have only been approved by my abilities that I have learned throughout the years and things that I think need improvements have of course crept up to only be further improved. None the less, life has been sweet and only rewarding after getting back to living in full throttle european life. This of course what comes to ones mind after the dust has settled – how does it go on? what awaits me next? Do these question seem kind of out of proportioned to a guy who has been circling the earth back and forth and working while doing it had enough experience – yes it is, but it is never enough. It is all eventually one gigantic dry run – something to figure out while you go and see where you land. One thing on my mind though is when is that time to take the next step, when is it time to make the best out of that time, only in my experience I can reply is wait and do your best while doing – there are no immediate solutions, there is only patience, fear and doubt to overcome to understand that beauty is in the process and not in the goal.

fine

Der Deutsche Designer — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 20:24:28 +0000

its fine,
you lost, you chose, you made your decision,
fine,
it was wrong, you knew it all along,
you disappointed, you hurt,
its fine, you knew it all along,
your intentions were there, but you decided different,
its fine,
thinking of the words, you lost,
its fine

the living just lived

Der Deutsche Designer — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 21:20:26 +0000

The living just lived,
as they lived in the past, striving for their own fortunes in their minds,
they lived as they pleased, without hindering or thought,
the easy life was easily got – minds were few, people even less,
nobody cared, so the icon could be as cool as can be,
there was no complexity,

The living just lived,
we look at them in pictures, black and white,
uniforms, bike riding, cool smoking into thin air,
waiting for their next drink, or fast race to take,
we think of them as our Hero’s from long past,
we spelunk in their foot steps, cloths and old breath,

The living just lived,
not caring of no one but themselves, as we admire,
their courage of selfish honor to be who they were,
wondering what to do now in our time,
as we are unable to live to just live,

our minds are occupied by pictures,
by our surroundings, by our life of others, far away, and close by,
we forget to be, as we look into the past,
wondering how did they live, how did they manage to be there in that picture,

as we wonder we forget,
they just lived for themselves without any worry what might happen,
what thoughts might come, our heros, uniforms and history,
the living just lived

the thought of alcohol

Der Deutsche Designer — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 01:35:43 +0000

what happens to you, when you are alone,
silent glister of peace and the wonder of keeping a journal,
knowing what to do when it is happening again,
that look onto a face with eyes that pierce you deep,
keeping your arm close,
what happens to you, when you are together,
dreaming of luster with shelves of cloths, waiting,
walking with your knee, from the other day,
laughing onto a life unknown together,
its the unkown in your daytime parade of your past,
suddenly you are filled,
the past is your yard of picked up pieces,
what happened to you, when you visit the pen and paper,
sometimes we are stuck in time unknown of parts,
lives have stood still, playing clouds, gray, white,
one things of the loves that past us by,
touched, hands, together, warmth, sweat, breath,
over islands, continents, singing, laughing, driving,
to be with, not alone, fathom our fears,
we are stuck, in a bed looking up, surrounded by love we do not want,
pearl eyes, change of hair, close filled with our puppet care,
we need to get away, away,
what happened to you this night, unable to write,
thinking of that silence about you,
buttons fixing with a japanese plastic box, married, safe,
our lives fabrics, made from afar,
so let us take our feet, step by step,
when you smiled, you filled my heart and image,
silent you were holding me in our world,
together sold, with washed stone,
together we waited for a friendship without end,
we danced our night away,
we talk to our lips until we kissed,
look at us now,
what happened to you this day,
gone are the dreams of childhood by grown choices,
alone in our worlds, together now,
I still have my hands filled with love,
to give, to hold another journey,
what happened to me, then you will never understand
as my heart has changed, for my love has grown,
telling stories of our lives

Pain

Der Deutsche Designer — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 22:03:57 +0000

There is no need to tell me in words,
I see your lips, climbing over my chest, looking into your eyes,
there are emotions deep buried inside of you,
There is the silence of your face next to the beds of rest,
Every time you grab the arms,
pushing away the luster of fires,
fire for the warmth,
fire for the strange ideas we strive for to become only to be answered in time,
There is no need to look into my eyes that smell of blood of my past,
filled with remorse and bitterness,
take me into your memories,
for the burns of scars you left,
the steps of my past,
the happiness I can give is the pain you do not want to have,
glistering voices on the phone, its all gone,
your voice over the other edge of life,
there are emotions deep buried inside of you,
listening to the voice, again and again,
for you could not hold me,
for you could not hold now,
its all were we start, its all were we end,
fire for the warmth,
fire for the strange ideas we strive for to become only to be answered in time

dosage

Der Deutsche Designer — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 02:16:31 +0000

calling the nightly dreams,
its late, where have it been that soft touch,
that warm love kissing my lips over my fears,
its those people we meet, again for the reasons unknown,
for the people we have loved too deep in our naivety,
what have we from our experience to gain then those sitting behind the fires,
we sleep deeply into our slumbers,
as we grab our cycles of emotions over again,
to cover our eyes for we want to be blind to able to see,
its the language, the culture, we find our natural bliss,
for the loneliness is our dosage filled with memories,
replaying our characters,
to not be alone, in God, Angels and stories of our hearts,
we forget ourselves easily for the sorrows we dip into honey,
its all that nightly dream looking for our mentors,
waiting to pick us up, for the gain of entertainment,
to find our dosage at night …

change coming up …

Der Deutsche Designer — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 01:48:06 +0000

I am about to change as I realize I am writing more editorial pieces then poetry these days I have to accommodate both styles as well my upcoming portfolio (yeah right!) … just a heads up that things are changing.

days after the last

Der Deutsche Designer — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 01:48:58 +0000

its reality that sets in when you start to breath,
thinking of that last idea behind the curtains of your windows,
the snow is falling slowly on the frozen grounds,
she slowly takes care of a broken heart, step by step,
ignoring the mistakes and failures of her future lover, its all been done before,
she thought it out, packed in her suitcase, her red hair tied neatly behind her head,
listening to his stories, ignoring other ones looks on her freckled face,
this one I want, this one I will get for sure,

its reality that sets in when you start to understand,
tiny whims of infidelity, stories of the worn,
the grips of making the love last longer, anew again,
its all been before there, its the time that heals,
people surrounding you, trying to forget what your lover once said,

stories of people, their worries, their children, their lives,
over again, marriage, not to be alone,
accepting only to find that what you thought things are not,
time limited by the swords of decisions, left alone, in a room without,
that what you have given, taken,
cared by the choices of your breath that was filled with laughter

at sleeping dawn I wait for you

Der Deutsche Designer — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 02:21:35 +0000

oh lullaby of my corners, I wait for your steps onto the drunken feet,
that smell of forgotten and negligence of my existence,
I rather bring you coffee and bake you a cake as you vomit onto my naked feet,
laying there without a noise,
stabbing you with my fingers – still breathing, I am waiting,

you already knew before you saw my reddish lips lick my anticipation,
grabbing with your arms around, knowing how to do, knowing what to do,
you knew you wanted that deathly fill into your body, again and again,
some fresh meat – yum! yum!

you waited for your own craziness, for my needs, you could not satisfy,
oh lullaby of my straight away, you lay in the grass, as ants pierced that soft skin,
with your dark large glasses and crew cut hair, you knew all along,
this heart – it will be all fair, it will be all gain, for that very second;

looking at dark legs into the sun, your smirk, it all has been done before,
a copy of a copy of a copy made by a copy – unknowing, fantastic,
smiling crazily running to the phone, with giggly laugh,
filled with cocaine in your hand,

what all that tight holding of your scream, my rage turned on,
you sacrificed another calf, another offering to the gods,
red rose buds, bleeding slowly, waiting time, for a fake story,
a whisper of a fantasy, I dreamed of, and all forgotten,

turned off, thrown out onto that corner, waiting to get picked up again,
for that one last time.

the visit

Der Deutsche Designer — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 21:00:25 +0000

destruction, mountains climbing, the fresh cold air in my face,  a familiar cold onto life long forgotten, warm beds,
ringing chinese made alarm clocks,
girlfriends hands grabbing around,
a documenting flash for a photograph – its reality,
it will be all, the step I will take to leave, to continue my life,
the sweet warmth, how lovely, words,
green passing by, I should stay,
the bags are all packed,
moving forward in the train that carries me here,
listening to my tune,
its been too long,
wrapping pullover over my wrists,
a stepping stone, stories of compassion,
they stood all over the graves of their ancestors,
drinking mushrooms, carving tattoos into their skin,
animals of the old, its getting dark, time is moving faster,
I have been here before,
luckily I can scream, raise my voice,
from this familiar cold,
filled with stories that are kept in little hearts,
beating until they cease to death,
destruction, onto the plain fields,
where the salty wind blows,
for the last time I wave my hand,
and whisper …

for your sleep

Der Deutsche Designer — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 22:21:24 +0000

sleeping in silence,
her breathing on the pillow, a soft spoken key, she is sleeping
steps outside the stairs,
a whispering from the moon and gathering clouds,
criquet sounds in the grass,
a car passing, closing doors,
her breathing on the pillow,
she sleeps with her voice,
how my love grows,
watching her silently, sleeping as I type into the night,
what wonderful resonance in my heart,
to know, her breathing and softly turning,
the clocks of time, to only wake,
with the touch and warmth,
of this love, next to me,
my whole life

waiting for

Der Deutsche Designer — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 21:43:46 +0000

you think of the last stroke,
the breath of its warm belly on top,
you look into the eyes, filled with ecstasy,
slowly probing into her head, its a listress world,
fastened by the grip of detailed stops,
lusted by hold, fallen apart by rules,
past pictured of fallen giants, screams of forgotten signs,
you touch the body of love, in your mind, so many times,
its all the same, you merge, you wear, you crash into that last mind,
only to be thrown, all over again,
there is no,
there is nothing to be but you and your ideas,
the idealistic being,
filled with cannibalistic actions, mangled by emotions,
you read of time, in figures of stroken luck, its all
in us, that last stroke to hold onto the beats,
of our steps, drinking of water, flushed in circles,
levels over again
[and repeat]

listening …

Der Deutsche Designer — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 19:19:32 +0000

I see the night sky under my lamp;
as I glistened over my ears the songs of birds talking about the next day;
dead men’s dreams about humanities,
as their laughter shines on cold statues in green parks,
thinking of the peace over the sky,
beginning to live life at ones,
I am here not long to stay; harboring a smile for what I have,
listen to voices, on streets, steps on balcony structures,
its all for the thought of my past,
the crows never forget a face as they look onto the fall sky;
my love at far, thoughts of her lips;
sometimes bored;
her eyes tired of a flickered screen, missing her in my heart,
my years of passing by, our dreams to be,
for we see the same moon, in our time,
I see the night sky under my world;
as I glistened over my ears the songs of voices,
waiting for her to return as crows fly on by;

sunday paper reading at night

Der Deutsche Designer — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 02:24:32 +0000

she walks in the forest,
far into the deepest lions mouth, covered from fog, she looks for you,
hunting them down with lenses, smiling over misery,
trying to lure you to her place,
her oddest fear, though as it lures, it is to be close,
as she climbs its trees, laughs its faintest autumn leaf,
the further she goes,
covered from the world, loved, under all her rubble,
it has to be covered,
a child playing on the garage door,
looking for the queen,
where has she been,
its in her house, she gets her strength,
her loneliness dig deep into her heart,
what is there to be found, no one will ever know,
as she walks in the forest,
sitting over the glister silence,
animals screaming, fornicating, for their life, short, undetected
rain started to sip on the decks of the naked tent,
waiting for the next day to begin,
she goes further to stop in her own little world,
civilizations are short lived, by airports waiting lounges,
she stares out of windows,
sitting over the waiting chairs, for the speakers blur message of loved ones,
another flight to catch, only to find,
her home is far, with her lens on her bosoms,
the words are listened and taped to her sweet young mouth,
she walks in the forest,
far into the deepest lions mouth,
looking for her heart to beat one more time

mmmm … eating chocolate …

Der Deutsche Designer — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 11:27:05 +0000

oh chocolate mouth,
how delicious you are,
kisses all around, what brought me today,
nuts and laughs, is it the feeling of happiness,
its all so creamy,
making me think of your kisses,
on your dark skin,
a pattern of addiction,
over and over again,
oh chocolate after taste,
sudden after glow,
leaving my mind float,
only to receive another kiss,
reminiscent of my past,
delicious and sweet

a time past one; lets hope she is back home and safe

Der Deutsche Designer — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 23:05:28 +0000

this is it … she said and left; her husband stunned; the moon just dropped behind clouds; the computer screen flickers in his rare white pale eyes;
my wife seems not have realized; it was all gone after sitting on the computer all day; I just couldn’t stop looking at the porn; a vain of consumption;
the flickering of the screen; it was like the past all over again with Jesse the gay writer that wanted to seduce;
this was much more, this was a delicate matter of his heart that so passionately was so enthralled in her desires and complexity;
horses prancing on the green lushes fields, as the wind was combing through their mane;

he loved horses, he loved horses as much as he feared her;

sometimes we have to step out of our things and wonder; fuck what just happened; exposing ourselves is never easy (but it might be good marketing);its like pealing an onion until we come to oursenses that we are nothing more then when we come back to each other; this isn’t an expose; its not even a self masturbation of understanding, of coming out to you own creative process that feels like swimming, like a sponge on the ground of the ocean; it all depends what is collected, but these run on sentence that resemble Marcel Proust haven’t been easy – but I feel I can do this; lets try this; lets try this; what will happen? Its a kind of peeling, its kind of a kid from the library that sat for ten years behind the counter pouring out his brain – naaa … not really, lets say its fun, its just fun, its only the same, but different.

You see what I have done here; tricky tricky … so she said into my ear: “I like you” and her breath shuttered my whole body; another episode of will become an innocent fantasy; I love train rides, they are the funny brain stimulation of Jogging in the car, they play a phenomenon; some people tell me – are you a writer? you draw like shit; I smile and I tell them I am an economist; its odd but true; designers are economists; they are process machines, they are biologist, they break out of the box; and they think of their fantasies that are inspired by reality; they observe, they are perverts when it comes to observing, voyeuristic in nature they fall in love with Minot details.

I wonder what they all do; planning their life; smoking joints; snorting coke; dancing their drunk asses off; laughing hysterical; workaholics; saving social media for their own good nature only to realize the only thing will be satisfying is a golden portrait of themselves besides the most moral people on earth; I am not sure and we never should be; Its sometimes hard when we not realize we can love what we created.

this is it … she said and left; her husband was rather happy and got back to his clay; wondered if it ever will bear a child of his own;these are minute details before going to sleep;

our relation

Der Deutsche Designer — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 17:42:30 +0000

we met one april day, I saw you through the window, your were laughing,
a moment of awe and bewilderment,
you joined me with a half empty cup of coffee,
we met two nights later,
you tried to seduce me, a little drunk,
you gripped me so hard,
you never wanted to let go,
I saw your colorful jeans, and said,
those white shoes are you,
your crazy wonderful brown eyes,
driving over the country, alone,
you couldn’t stop talking,
holding my hand,
my happiness was intwined,
singing from my heart, how crazy I was,
I wanted to run to you – you were afraid to touch,
closer,
dreaming of a radiant sun, crashing unto your weight,
commitment so far though from your mind,
traveling to a distant country,
you told me nothing, there was only a body,
I didn’t join the marriage party, you bought a wonderful dress,
you debated so long of, there was a time alone,
on the beach, surfing, calling, hiding in the bathroom,
you got picked up by a different man,
how jealous I became – knowing of a different path,
no longer there was this last long call you said goodbye,
your voice so silent, stuck,
that weekend I felt with pain waiting for your answers,
that night you called, confused, full of guilt, I should pass;
my heart dropped, a quick burning, the thought truth,
I answered to ask to fly, and you thought – one last time
You came to visit; truly I cried in bed next to you for the first time,
saddened, you forgotten your heart,
you said, it was just for fun, you wanted to leave,
too much to bear, to have with me,
one last warm bath, a quick hug on the gate, the words;
“I hope you come to see me soon again”
on the way to see, you, my words on the phone, your decision
“goodbye”; sank in, a weekend past,
a long walk on the beach with that different man, you realize,
crying for days, about what really happened,
was it really love? you called, frantic, confused,
a long talk, a night, I am calm, the truth,
my heart beat for you, but my question rang;
can I love myself for the love I have for you,
I left for europe, a few weeks, we called, we wrote,
your love grew, for me, was it true?
fantasizing to be there, here, with me, next to me,
so you came, I kissed, hugged you, the feeling of ecstasy,
my heart, full,
we went on a journey again, through the streets of europe,
in its time, joined by my loved friend, you meeting him,
driving through thick snow, mountain heights, singing, dancing,
talking with no end, there was only you, on that night in vienna,
gripping you next to me, you said the words – I love you;
filling me with warmth, deep inside,
the flight left soon, driving fast, talking faster, thinking about our future,
when will we move? – scared about decisions – where will we move?
in the end the idea to go to san francisco; I stayed for the winter, trying to find a stay,
your hopes up high, writing “welcome home”
you felt lost when it didn’t come its way; though how profound that christmas was,
realizing your decisions in your life of important things, telling me for the new year; “I am the love of your life”
nothing could be more a present that day,
I met your family, surprised you were how much they fell in love, bedazzled in awe – how could they?
smiling accepting, the last day we stayed, that month,
before I was off leaving back to work that different man called,
you feeling odd, I was distraught; why did he call; you questioning every thought,
knowing it would hurt my heart, though you shared, every thought, we talked,
I visited again, frustrating about our passion, frustration, nabbed into a few days,
we argued, pressured to work, you told me how fucked up we are,
packing my bags, I stopped knowing our drama, tired I relent,
on a miss planned day, you feel fishy, ask me if I was alone in that dreadful pink florida room,
that night we had a conversation – about our day; you asked me what I really want;
selfish; the truth was to move, start a new were I always wanted to be,
you had to think for yourself at first, telling me later, you want to go earlier,
to europe, that weekend you left again, work,
somewhere I asked is it connected with that different man?
promise me to call me every time you can, none rang until this day,
on monday you left to a hotel room, I didn’t find your name, missing you every minute,
thinking, if you felt the same way, odd,
you arrived again to visit me; you met my sister,
loving you in the first sight, I felt nervous, happy, excited,
laughing, we went on our journey, alone, through the streets of the south,
the sun glistering on the smell of history, tale’s of black african,
staying on an island with an empty bathtub,
visiting family, driving home, again, departing,
leaving for your birthday, our days arrive, a year, we met,
I feel your fading away, more friends shrouded in mystery,
my trust eroding under your fear, celebrating your birthday under friends,
for me, for a first time I feel truly comfortable, the last day,
you hug me the same way, you wanted to say goodbye,
I stayed another night, you apologize with self made sushi time,
you tell me how much you love, the next day, you break,
staying in the rain, cold, on the phone, too much too handle,
unhappy with yourself, unhappy with your life,
this relationship, telling me, is not what you are looking for,
my heart, I ask, if you are sure, bye;

death in the sun

Der Deutsche Designer — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 17:34:44 +0000

washed from the pain of her womb, the clean tract of death
her beautiful hands touched by many lovers, hold strong, passionately used,
driving in the warm sun, searching only for belonging by one,
streaks on the naked, from societies vision,
washed free of its existence to our eyes,
washed from the smell until it lasts,
so many stories in one lead, so many stories of laughter, crying, and harbor, until freedom is released,
finally understanding death, is the kiss of true love,
from her bosom’s, her mothers past, its the last goodbye, to repeat, to repeat – beauty

with a broken romance

Der Deutsche Designer — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:24:49 +0000

we reek, we dream from the smell that stirs our senses,
the human that loves madness, to be hurt for its illusion that simmers on the water,
a reflection of our happiness, that lurks in the greases of our lust,
pondering on our fears that grass of the morning, trust of our sun,
we are broken slowly, to run, without nothing,
empty to look at our moon that desolated place of silicon and fiber,
remembered that we are just here, one, in our own, morning piss that we flush