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September 12th, 2019, 07:50 pm

Rapid currents flowing streams of dreams forwards backwards sinking in the sands of time limitless boundaries borders gentle reminders and solid mistakes and sentences never ending spinning around an empty universe fever dreams I keep dreaming while death is luring in some dark corner and I stow them away hopes and desires and darkness clouds the mind always returning always the fight against what fate decides controlling and losing my grip I tend to fade away and lock myself up as I untangle cables and wait for something that never arrives and I look up watch the clouds pass over casting their shadows and on the road past it all I found that death is a starlet and it startled so I climbed the highest tree and looked down on the world I had lived in and it turned out to be a maze

September 18th, 2018, 11:57 am

In de strijd gaan talloze verhalen schuil, zo net onder de oppervlakte, kabbelend tussen onder en boven water. Waar ze altijd ondergedompeld zijn in, en deel uitmaken van de massa. Op twaalf hoog, in kleine appartementen achter enkelglas. Verwerkt in het pleister van een muur. Op achterkanten van oude foto’s, netjes ingelijst op een nachtkast. Dat is waar ze bestaan. Dat is waar ze vragen om verteld te worden. Vertel ze.

Date: October 12th, 2018, 11:05 pm

Every dream dies at the thought of money.

Date: November 9th, 2018, 03:00 pm

Once there was a poor white kid. Never a stud, but still possessing a certain charm. Holding a guitar in one hand, and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Started feverishly writing tunes to the melody of his sadness, intertwined with a sense of humor and some kind of rebellion. Flicking his finger at the great conformism at play. By which he shaped the dark laugh, the purest form of reality. Mundanely poetic and beautiful, yet odd.

December 3rd, 2018, 10:16 pm

Here’s a little something: I really need someone to talk to. I keep calling out for someone to hear me, yet all I hear is my voice echoing back at me. Loneliness gushes like blood, out of every pore in my body. And yes, I like the dark analogies. It’s where I feel comfortable and connected to something real. I can’t see this changing anytime soon. The ties are severed. When I die, know that it was nothing sudden. There’s little deaths in every day, it seems.

July 5th, 2019, 09:02 pm

I once spent all summer waiting for a freight train to pass town. It started with a vague promise I made to myself: that there was some kind of deeper truth to be found along the west coast, or by the river banks, or high up the mountains. I never wished for a detailed plan. The plan was to stray, to get lost and to find.

Still I found myself staring at maps all through the evenings leading up to my departure. I philosophized about borders, what they meant and why we needed them. I fantasized about how it would feel to consciously cross them. I bought a compass without the intent to use it.

There had been filthy ceilings, books stacking up against the walls of my cluttered appartment. In my room I endlessly paced around, scribbling shreds of thoughts on sticky notes, covering my walls with them until I ran out of space. I started sticking them on my television, my refridgerator, even my cat, until everything was covered up in sticky notes. That’s how I left that place. All my thoughts remained there. Some would call it ‘art’.

When June arrived, I finally locked the door behind me and headed out. 

July 6th, 2019, 10:06 pm

It’s so easy to hide under the covers again, and to hang limp, to let it all slide. Even though I know there is nothing to gain from treading that path. But I want to mute the feelings, in all their intensity. It is just too much.

All this talk about the importance of communication, and still I can’t move my lips. How else are the feelings, the hard limits going to be voiced? So upon that realization, yet another path got completely devalued.

I thought about the abstractness of personal borders as you struck me firmly with your strong hand, and again and again. The tingling sensation increased as you repeated.

I lack something fundamental and I don’t know where else to get it or how to proceed. I wanted this, right? Yes, I did. I fucking love when you show your strength and you make me feel so small. Is there something wrong with my brain? How did I get here? But I like this, don’t I? I’m so confused.

July 15th, 2019, 09:41 pm

Er waren huizen waar we dagen in verbleven, volgestopt met dingen, zodat de ruimte maar gevuld was en daarin bestonden we; een leegte in een leegte als een Slavische matroesjka pop. Dan lieten we het bad vollopen en weekten we het los, het vuil van het verleden, waarna we schoon en als herboren de ruimte weer verlieten, en zo begon dan weer een nieuwe dag.

July 16th, 2019, 09:05 pm

In de dagen die volgden voerde ik een hopeloze strijd tegen de schimmen van het verleden. De uitslag was al bekend. Er viel geen eer aan te behalen, en toch vocht ik onverminderd door. En de tomeloze inzet, niemand had het gezien. Er was geen publiek. Ik speelde dit spel alleen voor mezelf. Zonder enige motivatie bleef ik doen wat ik altijd al deed.

En nadat al het stof was neergedaald, de laatste hakbijl op de grond was laten vallen, de rust terugkeerde en je de vogels weer kon horen, knielde ik neer op de grond. Verslagen en ontwapend. Dit moment bevatte eigenlijk alles. Waar ik sta en vandaan kom, welke kant ik op zal gaan. De stilte en de eindeloze ruis. Het ongemak, de gratie. Naar binnen gekeerd en naar buiten reikend. Een betere uitleg voor hoe gewoon de tegenstellingen mij zijn is er niet.

July 21st, 2019, 08:46 am

The earth spins and spins and all the while I just laid there, frozen solid and running circles in my mind. Unfolding every storyline in my head, inspecting them from a thousand angles. In a quest to find The Truth, but upon arriving at that place there was nothing there… I felt sick when I realized I’d been wasting all this time treading the wrong path. So many days lost. I just couldn’t continue like this.

So I threw off the blanket and got up. I picked up a marker and wrote SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE in capitals on my wall. I packed my bag and headed out. Walking the streets again felt strangely unsettling. I cancelled out the city noise by putting headphones in my ears, listening to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. As they sang to me I felt a deep resemblance. How hard can it be to break through a wall you’ve been solidifying for years. It is not so strange I stayed put in this cocoon of safety I constructed. In every step I took there was a confrontation with my past and present self. Still I continued walking.

What drove me forward I don’t know. Maybe there was simply no way of going back.