Schmetterschrittchen

Na Alter, Schmetterschrittchen, was ? Anders als der junge Typ dort, der mit seinen schwarzen Tüten nachhause schleicht. D u  federst, dynamisch und laut schlagen deine Absätze auf das Pflaster, berühren es kaum, fliegen fast, der Mantel weht, nach vorn nach vorn,  d u  bist nicht alt, oder müde, oder irgendsolchen Quatsch, du bist frisch rasiert und strahlst wie Peter Pan im 4. Frühling, und ich finde dich ja gut Schmetterschrittchen, aber i c h sitze hier, der Schnee fällt in Flocken und starr liegt der Wald, und d u bist gleich in einem warmen Café, bei Cognak und dem wundervollen Haar von Isa und Marie, sie könnten deine Töchter sein, sind sie aber nicht, und i c h bleibe sitzen, in meinem geparkten Auto, Schnee um Schnee hat es bedeckt,  w e i ß  wird nun sein.

3 Kommentare

  1. Un-blessed,

    why hast thou that delicate hands such chiselled blonde hair-censored what art thou so unapproachable undpopperschschön awkward? Why do I see thee (two thousand), though I walk through the city (two thousand two), and the sun on the worn hand cream (inruheinruhe) (Two thousand three)? Why are you in the transparent surface,

    when I sit at the desk and do my schoolwork (I do need a dictionary?) wants (glittercap!)? Why are you so hard to me (hahadeinehaaare) so jealous, you are giving me nothing. From nothing nothing Nowhere To Be Found? Who-ever-even those (Popper) Soup (Hot …) Why did you come into my life (es-painted), relentlessly, Un-da you know, dear, with us, something that will never, never no never come true?

    ““
    … Un away or zen ing I should hate? SHSHSHSHSHS Do want and do not belong in my life. Will never take place is (ready to take off, paper boys) and take my car in the combined head, my heart, my I! My abdomen (I – with the lady, not without abdomen). Everything You’ve reached infinito (you’re tough!) And give me – fancyballs. You know not once. The fact that I exist, breathing the same air. Likeyoudo. Each trip costs gives me more. Every cent is not enough, I cancel, it is better than one thought of you. I want to tell others about you and it comes to me ridiculous, I would like DIR (DirectorInResidence) bragging rights to find the absurd abdawirsindth – once two, I – would never dare. Even my mother asked me about you (GoldCap!) And I do not want to talk about you. Will not. Nobody said your name. No. Never. Never. Wine. Wine. No. No..
    Your energy (your touch), a venom pleasure, takes my body with it and touches sensors tested(glamandglittertastetoogood!), Even disembodied, just a picture, maybe a voice, usually a thought. Gold is the shit of God, says Juliet (the one with the chain-store girl in the picture). You’re not even that, you’re not a fool’s gold. It is I do not care about good style, good taste, good mediocrity, the expression Well, when I thought of you in this key attack, I was intentionally wrong. Because my feeling is just as capable shrill, weird, frowned upon, as the style in which I write to you.

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