Tuesday, 4 December 2012


now that your patience was spent/ you asked me to enter another one of your rooms/ where ridiculously small persian carpets lay strewn on top of each other to cover up a part of the floor that was made for a single, bigger carpet/ a telephone designed as a white elephant rested on an oval corner table/ "is this where the otherness begins"/ it read on a white banner that levitated poorly above a doorway/ the new pressure/ the new sensitivity/ predatory silence hung like a prediction in the room/ was it possible that as we now no longer needed time for each other, were in need of more space, for each other/ equal to the amount of time surrendered/

i had accepted your invitation blindly and found myself in your room/ it must have been just north of the belly/ and for a moment there, i got to doubt whether all time in reality belonged to you/ as we now no longer would have time for each other/ actually would not have your time, for us/ that my concept of time would be stored somewhere else/ as the time of the guest/ the ridiculously tardy/ in yet another room in you/ in some ventricle of the brain that could be reached only by dispatch/ or telephoned, if you lifted off the elephant's right tusk and spoke 
into the cavity/ 
quite similar to how you would call up neighboring tables in night clubs not long ago/ asking someone there to dance with you, drink with you or something else that fitted the mood and occasion/ maybe it was like this again then/ that i would have to call you/ from a room within you/ to figure out where we were supposed to go next/ figure out whether or not you were thirsty/ and whether you rumba or rock'n'roll/ 

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