RUN Run run...

Faster than anytime in her life she ran up the hill until she felt like her legs were breaking. She fell on her knees and started shrieking. A terrifying shriek that let, even her, cringe a little. She felt like throwing up would make her feel better. But it wouldn't. It would never be the same again. Never again.

Not knowing what to do, she kept walking, calmly through the woods. The sun was about to dawn and the warm colours kept lightning her way through the slowly upcoming dark. Even though she was scared in the dark, she kept walking deeper inside the woods. Never again, am I going to be late, she sung to herself, whispering the words.

Hours ago she just left the hospital where he's lying in his bed, apparently sleeping. "He asked for you four times in the last hour" his mother said. "He didn't even say goodbye to Dad, as he was late, as well" his mother continued. But she didn't listen. Too little too late, he used to say. And now he lay on the bed, looking asleep. "This can't be happening" she whispered with tears in her eyes. Although she knew he wasn't going to react, she took his hand and said his name. Nothing. No answer, no reaction. She lost him again. But this time forever.

Yeah, whatever...

Wir liegen nebeneinander im Gras und starren die Wolken an. Wortlos liegen wir da, rauchen eine Zigarette, lauschen der Musik, die durch die offene Terassentür nach draußen dringt und kichern ab und an noch immer über den kurzen Witz, den wir gerade vom Nachbarn gehört haben. Die Sonne scheint uns aufs Gesicht, unsere Hände spielen miteinander, so als wären sie von unserem Körper unabhängig. Ich schließe die Augen und genieße den Augenblick; den Wind, der sanft über meine Wangen weht, Deine Fingerspitzen auf meiner Stirn, Dein Kopf an meiner Schulter.

Nach diesem Tag war alles anders... die Vögel hörten auf zu zwitschern und die Sonne versank für immer hinter dem Horizont. Wenn ich an Deiner Stelle wäre, würdest Du nun diesen Text hier schreiben? Blind vor Wut, vor Einsamkeit, vor Scham? Kein Lachen mehr von Deinen Lippen, keine Berührung mehr von Deinen Händen, kein Leuchten mehr von Deinen Augen... Das alles war einmal - und ist nicht mehr. Nie mehr. Auf ewig.

a quick nutricious smoke...

and a six pack of beer. bernard sat on the rooftop of his house, overlooking london, a bottle of merlot next to him and two packs of smokes in his pockets.

"may I?" I asked and already took a seat next to him.
"no. go away, I need silence"
- "Don't worry, I won't bother you" I said and lighted a cigarette. I opened a bottle of ale and drank half of it in one gulp.
"wanna talk?" he asked, looking quite worried.
"No. Never again"
- "It's that guy again, is it? what's his name? bryn?" he continued.
"yeah, that's his name" I said taking a look to the spot where the tower bridge should be. You can't see it from there, but I always use to look that way in the hope that one day I could take a glimpse at it.
"what did he do? or not do?"
- "nothing. That's it, actually. He did nothing. I just hate him!"
"why are you so bothered, then?" he said and I guess he didn't really want to talk about it. so I shut up.

Half an hour later I saw Bryn walking down the street.
"That's him, right?" Bernard asked pointing at Bryn.
"Never mind" I said, hoping he would just let go.
"HEY BRYN!! OVER HERE!! BRYYYYN" Bernard kept shouting at him, until Bryn finally looked up to us.
"hey guys, what are you doing?"
- "Come up and we'll show you!"
"What?? What are you doing? Are you crazy!?" I asked Bernard when Bryn entered the front door below us.
- "Yes, I'm a freak. You said so yourself" Bernard said smiling.
"I didn't mean it!"
- "You should talk about it. you know? with him! I can't stand all this non-conversations about Bryn anymore. do it for the country!" he said and went off the roof as Bryn approached.

"hey bern!" he said, as Bernard walked past him.
- "Yeah" Bernard said as he went.

"Hey there! What are you doing over here?"
- "having a fag and a beer. want one?"
"Beer would be nice, thanks"
I handed him a bottle and he sat next to me; silently he drank his beer and an hour later, I pushed him over the top and he smashed on the ground. The only one I loved.

Mein Versuch, literarisch an Irvin Welsh heranzukommen....

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" mehr konnte ich in dem Moment nicht brüllen. Was für ein dreckiger, verwichster Junkie-Arsch! Engländer! Ganz bestimmt ist die hässliche Fresse n Engländer! Ich steig aus'm Auto, bereit der englischen Fotze ordentlich eins auf die Fresse zu geben, als ich so ne dumme Schnepfe vor mir stehen sehe, mit rotgeheulten Augen. "Jetzt brauchste auch nicht mehr zu heulen, Du doofe Kuh!" - "Der Wagen war neu!" heult die Pute weiter und kniet sich vor ihren Schrotthaufen von Auto. Von dieser Perspektive aus kann ich sehen, dass sie keinen BH trägt. Wahrscheinlich kommt sie grad von ner heißen Nacht mit irgendnem Junkie, so verbraucht wie die Alte aussieht.

"Jetzt hör endlich auf zu heulen, davon wird's auch nicht besser!" pflaume ich die Schnecke an und denke so bei mir, dass die nach nen paar Pints locker in meiner Kiste landen könnte. Aber 'n bißchen Geschmack hab selbst ich noch.

...

Wild fuchtelnd

Man fuchtelt wild gestrikulierend mit den Armen rum und es interessiert keinen.
Mal schauen, was die Menschen morgen über Dich denken...

Schreien...

weil man zu mehr nicht fähig ist.
Es ist wie diese schreckliche Szene in Trainspotting... man findet keine Worte und kann nur noch schreien. Still in sich hinein, sodass man taub wird. Von innen.

You just can't!

You can't leave me on my own now!?
You can't turn away from me and act like we were friends all along!?
You can't say things like "i really like you" anymore after all those nights we shared!?
You can't turn away on me like that!?
You can't ask my sister out for dinner!
You can't ask my mum how I'm doing when you meet her during grocery shopping!
You can't ask my dad about technical things regarding your stupid car!
You can't go out for drinks with my brother!
We can't be friends anymore!
You can't stay in my live!

You just can't!