Like a river, words flowed over his lips
Eagles in a cookiejar, locked away forever
Like the sound of thunder
their distinctive looks tasted like defeat
and felt like barbed wire, smelling of blood and misstakes


It looked like a defeat approached with a loud roar


His name in this livingroom was David
Words stacking on his teeth, he cannot speak
and in the kitchen he stood, feeling like a freak
"juscht a schtupid alky.."
The cookiejars here infuriated him even more
not exactly head over heels

The fake bottles of love ...
but the filth made him pure and clean
it made him float through the space


"Jessie...
There will never be a place for us."


a gentle shove in the right direction
the future that only proceeded a past
a ritual
bottles that spoke and flew with emotions
like rivers, flowing over his lips.