archives from 2009

sketch 6

my blindfold is a stocking 

I like the way they look.

Why they do shine tonight

he twinkles at me 

what does it mean

the throng moves him along 

truffle images and that

he looked at her 

through the mask 

in a different way.

Cleaning up 

I find things I don't remember

takes his
white lace out of a hat 

and winds it around his leg.

I feel myself stiffen ready to run

scent of an atmosphere
trails over the rooms 

gushing from the door

the muse
follows me out

wearing just his tights 

and a jester hat.

I gather
my wits

what is so funny 

he can hardly stand up.

He grapples me for the handle

the snow
prepared itself

my shadow crawls the canvas. 

I am no hostage

26.01.09./01.02.09.