February 2012
13 posts
I see people here, relieved by the death of a parent. Not because their parent was ill but simply lived beyond their years. Perhaps we should all start drinking and smoking like sons of bitches so that we can die in our fourties in order not to inconvenience the children.
I had moved out to the city only a month before and didn’t know any one there, except for the people I shared my house with. It was still very early when I made my way through the stream of commuters that needed to get to work. I usually do this with my mouth curled in an unpleasant direction and with my head down, to avoid any contact with the people around me so that I won’t get...
Sometimes my feet are so heavy that it feels like I should leave them behind in order to get to work in time. I keep telling myself that I am living a life which doesn’t belong to me, to discover in the end, that it is the only life I lived.
“You watch too many movies,” he said, playing with the almost empty cup in his hands. “I mean really, what would happen if the movie continued after the guy gets the girl in the end?” He paused, taking a moment to finish his coffee. “They would grow tired of each other is what happens, they would grow tired, they would get a divorce, split their possessions in half,...
“Dad, please. I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
I met Mrs De K in a corridor. She was crying and I felt very sorry for her even though I wasn’t supposed to. She cried because she was lost and I told her I was lost as well, and weren’t we all. I walked her down the hall, to her room. She showed me her fingernails. They were long and pointy and old. She asked me where she could get them trimmed. I want to be shot when I reach the...
The rotten leafs cast a nasty smell on the black water. She dreamed about having legs but when she dreamed a bit more realistically she dreamed about him carrying her to the water so she could die in his arms. He wouldn’t hear about it so she finally stopped asking one day. He found her behind the house one morning, floating in nothing more than a floral blouse, like a modern Ophelia, her...
Most bus drivers are fucktards
I judge them by the amount of time they spend reading their goddamn newspapers behind their steering wheels while the rest of soak in the rain at the bus stop.
He walked out, in the middle of winter, snow was covering the pavement as the sun shone brightly. She watched the steam coming from his lips for a second before she realized what was going on. He had no coat on and he walked in circles. His mind was completely gone now, the last bit of his sanity was hanging on a thread and he was kept in reign by the drugs they were giving him. There was no room...
De middelste van de drie was een orchidee en het kopje was afgebroken toen opa ‘m opnieuw begraven had. De wortels hingen in de wind en soms viel er wat zand in de vensterbank als het raam open stond en het gordijn naar binnen kwam.
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“I love you,” she said. “I have loved you for a very long time.” She took a sip of her coffee, buying herself some time as he tried to find a way to respond, a way to match his expression to the mood she had unleashed on the room. She tried reading his gestures, the way he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, the way he lighted it. He couldn’t be that surprised, could...
January 2012
14 posts
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“We shouldn’t need excuses to touch each other,” she said when he sat down next to him. He looked at her with pondering eyes, frowning. “Are we like that?” he asked, pulling a bit of tobacco from his pack. She nodded and he looked away from her. The boy rolled a cigarette as she settled down on the arm of his chair, her feet touching the upper part of his legs. She...
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“Isn’t it sad that we can never get close enough?” she asked, her finger halfway down his chest. He kissed her hair as she traced the invisible lines on his skin. “You grind your teeth in your sleep.”
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Would you stop being so goddamn nice all the time? It pisses the fuck out of me. Thanks.
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The things I do when you're not home
Wear your t-shirts,
Drink coffee from your favourite mug,
Sleep on your side of the bed,
Smell your pillow,
Masturbate in the shower.
“I can not get used to the amount of dead people on a monday morning,” she said as she laced up her shoe and buttoned her uniform.
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Sunday Mornings at the River →
I started a photography magazine which features the work of new talent whose stuff I like.
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“Why me?” she asked, tying back her hair. “I dunno,” he shrugged, but she could tell he did. He glanced at her and she smiled at him in the mirror. “I guess you looked scared, you know?” She turned away from the vanity to face him. “Like a lost child in a supermarket.” He took a long pause, which he did a lot in between sentences, if he ever talked...
“Het spijt me van uw tuintje,” zeg ik. “Agh kind, het zijn maar rozen.” Het was de dag dat ik van mijn fiets viel en mijn hoofd voelt als duizend hamers. Lucht. Ik hap er naar met mijn ogen dicht. Alles lijkt op zijn kop.
Ik had een terugkerende droom van mezelf op blote voeten, rennend door de heuvels en met mijn armen wijd gespreid. De zonnestralen die zich een weg door het bladerdak boven mijn hoofd worstelden, verwarmden mijn gezicht. Het moest hier zijn.
I don’t know why I cried. It’s not like I knew the deceased or anything. I’d only met her once and our encounter had been very brief. She had offered me a smoke, which I declined because I had quit smoking again. She had been nice but it hadn’t been a life altering experience. So why was I crying? Why was there an amount of moist underneath my eyes which could fill a fish...
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I felt strange all of a sudden, like I knew I was about to die. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly but it was there and it hammered against my skull until my hands started sweating and it felt like I was fainting. They say once you accepted your death you stop being panicky, but I hadn’t accepted my death yet, I probably never would. It was there though, like a siren song,...
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December 2011
5 posts
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Last night was wonderful, if you loved them, which I did. So we danced until our feet hurt and watched the sun rise from the roof terrace.
“I’m hopeful,” she whispered, and I believed her.
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Poem for the Pig upstairs
I hate you,
Please die
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She cut off her hair and bled to death.
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Familiar faces on the bus
Please please please don’t let her turn around.
De ochtend rook naar kots en verval. Het schoonmaakdoekje werd een keer te veel in het verdunde schoonmaakmiddel gedompeld. Ze wist dat de bewoonster van kamer 203 het niet zou merken, maar ergens voelde ze zich schuldig. Mevrouw C. keek haar aan. “Ik lig in mijn eigen stront, ik kan er niets aan doen.” Haar gezicht was mager, haar huid was dof, maar haar ogen waren als de oceaan,...
November 2011
12 posts
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Iedere dag was even mistig als de vorige. Schimmen van mensen vermengden zich met die van huizen, dingen. Autos reden naar het eind van de wereld, veranderden in twee felrode stipjes en verdwenen. Alleen de vogels zagen de zon.
Zeven dagen hield de mist nu al aan. Vlees en bloed vermengden zich tot schimmen in een poel van neon en led. De dag drukte nu even zwaar op haar borst als de nacht. Ze had moeite met ademhalen.
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And she just sat there in her little doll house, expecting a giant hand to come in through the window any time now, rearranging the furniture and smashing in her husband’s head.
To an outsider I suppose we looked tight.
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Please Fuck off and Die
I don’t want to invite you to my home, let you drink my wine and listen to your opinion about my life, my lover, my lack of a carreer. I don’t want to pick up the phone, talk about the weather, about your depression, about my depression, about the dog’s depression. I don’t want to host parties, entertain guests, have a life, create, cook, iron, shit, eat, breath.
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Gods
The names on the windows, in the magazines, on billboards, of people who made it, people who are celebrated, worshipped, honoured, make me choke on my own frustration, spit, vomit, rage, foam, like a mad dog. Put me down. Put me down.
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Cow Shit
I took a walk in the woods behind our house when it looked like it was about to rain. I liked the way the sky looked, it meant there would be no one around, no one to share the pathless woods with. I could not stand the company of other people at the moment. I zipped up my green parka, laced up my boots and walked out of a scene in our living room that involved both of my sisters and my father. It...
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The shadows of lunacy were roaming the room as she sat down in a dark corner, watching the patterns the sun made on the wall opposite of her. She had had to contain herself several times that day in order to not strangle every single human being she came in contact with. Every day started the same now, with sighing travelers, frustrated pieces of commuting shit. Yesterday it had been an elderly...
October 2011
12 posts
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“…and hey kid, I am glad you decided to stay.”
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It’s 3 a.m when I pass the retirement home and three windows shine like the sun.
Nice
I go out in the garden every night, shaking like a son of a bitch because it is too cold to go out without a coat after the sun goes down. But the stars are nice and my last cigarette is nice and the sounds the trees make when they rid themselves of last seasons leafs are nice. My mother comes out and turns on the porch light, everything disappears.
The Mole (2)
“You’re altering me,” I said to the doctor when he sunk his blade into my chest. The upper part of my body was naked and I felt like a pig in a slaughter house. “Yes, yes I suppose I am,” he replied. He focused on the movement of his knife again. I guess I always had had a touch for the dramatic.
When I go out in the garden late at night, without my glasses, the streetlights turn into snowflakes, fingerprints and veins.