literature

Slamming days

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Literature Text

After the tidal seconds
have sent your self
into the notknowing
your times or plans
there you are
 adrift

the world´s most lucid hangover
as your watch slips down your fingers
the minute dial blurs into sand
then smoke

and all your toilings
goings and comings
diggings and sniffings
 against the push and pull
of the new sky
-different stars, different month-

hoping desperately
for an easier breathing
for the ticks and the tocks
to be a lullaby
like a lover´s muffled laughter
against the skin
instead of a slimeing crawl
expected from a critter one does not want
to identify.
Meh.
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