Visions of America

The black box
communication
breakthrough

Ashes of a logical theory

The names
shadows
hypes

A forced craving
to keep presenting
the newest and the best

By only working digitally
something was robbed from
their education

What about
that
WIld West

tick-tock…

Are you ready?

Science fiction
the hypnotic effects
projects continued

Reports
interviews
reviews

The second
installment
has come

knock-knock…

Index

Terror

I came to a point when I
wanted to face things that
needed to be faced

See what I mean
the heads of state
a type for a theater
an epic tale

Looks like
a society driven by
having

Broken brickwork
words are just words
anthropological
barriers

Wake up

Take a little trip
down paradise’s
endless shores

Our heritage
-
A sense of hope

The great
age of
the Skychild

something in you

can only be reached

by your young self

when you’re old

I can walk through sleeping streets for weeks at a time.
Sometimes, after days of walking, after years of ruminating,
decades of drinking, I dance for a moment, when I get caught
by my shadow, bewitched by an old echo of your voice.

On the streets you can die in an instant if you’re too fragile to get blown away.
I hear you singing in my head while I’m drinking gin with some old men at the harbor.
Why did I choose this life? Have I even done so? I need sleep. I need wild dreams
of your mountainlioneske moves, your hair smelling like sweets,
your pussy tasting like an unknows fruit,
invigorating and amazingly addictive

Please tell me about your dance once again, about your unwashed self running wild.
Your crazy, childlike laughter haunts me like a friendly ghost,
coming back, as soon as I dare to feel too good.
You can only grow with all your fears invited.
Kiss me again and I will teach you how to fly.

It’s everything
the unknow
peel yourself
don’t shy away
the sky is bleeding only for you

Become plantlike
in your thinking
give yourself to the sun
be yourself in your roots
your fires

Do you remember those nights of warm, wet comfort in the years of morning?
Can you still feel the fresh air on your skin, the sun drying your hair?
The visions of night getting you so excited for the evening to come?
Beer at the fire, dances in the dark, bodies in ecstasy?
Is your youth willing to live?

I am here with all my heart, ready to take off.
I feel like a wild sprout, strong enough now to burst the street open
and to declare forest, not to suppress, but to dissolve.

Let's swim in the dark tonight, dive into the unknown.
Let's really feel the moon.
Let's make love with the stars, the real stars.
Let's flood the streets with morning and melodies and fruit.

I want to eat the day alive

somewhere after this

there will be gardens

like in the days of old