unendlichkeit (Deux)

And tar
Liver and lungs wondered
Ain’t that enough?
And scars
Life replied!

I stepped into a pub
Not so far from where my body sleeps
And weeps.

Drops of IPA and Brandy on the floor
Visions from the other side
Had me wondering
If I Procrastinated adequately
So far and
Whose boy was I?

Or continental!
In the bar, my own man
Cigarettes’ bum burning my
Beautiful blissed
Touching that screen
Trying to carve letters
Middle finger stronger
Than ever
Dancing with the smoke.

I am what I have lost
I got that from Oslo!

The motion of my poetry
In slo-mo.

Or scar?
Printing my soul
Fighting to get one
All the zeros
Don’t make much sense.

All I want is
Master gravitational waves
Life is just an hallucination
Where you and I
Are victims

Burning my lungs
Because my dad
And dads
Got cancer from that earth
That we landed on
And I have no answers
For it
But grow our pain and history
In the shadows.

The concrete won’t make me forget
The soft moist of dew
Under my feet
The stars that we shall seek
And the happiness within.

Rum on the “mur”
As I walked
And my fingers touched
An ideal
That we
Paint on the pavement
Or somewhere in our bathrooms.

We be Pollock
Without them bollocks
And it be colourful
Of course
Because we meant to shine
We meant to move
For nothing
For be
For us
Forever that light
In their darkness.

Trust ye
Thrust the
And bury the May
‘Cause you can.


Comes in
Looking what you would expect from an aussie
Or maybe
Some grunge skater from Cali.

Got tattoo and her cleavage offers enough
To dive in
And get lost for years
Decades, I must say.

To the
Bathroom, they go
Three or four minutes
And the barman say to his
Never he had sex in a public

My filthy martini soaking
My olives
I listen
Aware that
I did have sex
Multiple times
In a public washroom.

a red place within

I’ve always imagined my heart red
And heartbreaks
As scars, or little empty boxes pushing the kindness out of it.

I imagine my heart blank now
Each heartbreak as layers of red
Up until it reaches the complexion that I want, sadly
The heartbreaks will follow.

You can picture yours
And pick a colour too:
Maybe it’s black
Maybe it started with 50 shades of grey, coke and Jack.

You can picture yours
And pick a colour too:
Maybe it’s blue
Maybe it started with tears from the sky, and two ice cubes.

Maybe the heart has no colour
Maybe our eyes act like sonar
Maybe the water has brimmed over
Maybe the bath is red forever.

Haine, Vie

oh they got
big ass windows
big ass flat tv
big ass cars
that big ass crash

now they have
skinny ass widows
skinny ass cocaine line
skinny ass children nostrils
that sniff stuff

rough picture, you say

never should have they had a
big ass window
for such a big ass loser
to write a tiny ass

Extrait 8: petits poèmes pour grands amants

Her mind was the storm
that we would watch through the kitchen window
Her smell, steamed bergamot
would lick the walls as
the room sprouted the colour of Autumn.

As she moved, her
Rib cage created the waves
That never crashed
Curving her hips
Cambering her back and those thighs,
Where my kisses surfed on the froth
Until they
reached the arching tip of her toes.

The room coloured as Winter
When she inhaled
The last warmth
Before releasing the paradise spasm.

Dark Matter – OWLS

Why should I



I have read somewhere

That you should trust your own

And not

Anyone else

Because even your

Shadow doesn’t step in the dark


Lights. Lights.

They feel good under the spotlight

Did not know that

It doubles


The shallowness of

Your soul

And the body painted in dark

On the pavement is one of


Inner self

Trying to escape

The layers of sin.

You think

I am going to

Fear that.

For when the sun shines

I feel sorrow

And when its warmth

Burn my skin

With its soft touch

I feel


The flesh. The flesh.

Why should I



I have wrote somewhere

In my head

That I should trust strangers

And not

Sit alone

This trip is ending


We’ll see

On the Road

The dead bodies

Of past encounters.

Your selves, multiplied.

Because even your

Shadow doesn’t go away

in the dark


Foireux Tales

princes and princesses

seize the day

they say


with a cocky state of mind


never progress

looking for princes

with comfort

love warmth and security


princes looking for bitches

they can bone

once or multiple time



are bitches

were to be princesses

crushed by bitches 

were to be princes


pinch me

pinch me

this reality stings like hell

and the dreams are sour like the old taste of your lips on my flesh


boxes in the trunk
bottles of hard liquor and some beers
we are going north
valley girls and shallow dreams

made-up girls
made-up boys
thinking life, as an area

boxes full of family
boxes full of schools
boxes full of city

in my boxes
hard liquor and some beers
boxes piled up like
dead and dry dreams


Honestly in alcohol will I
Ever find love I simply deny
This heart of mine shan’t be mentioned as a living soul
Never lived Never left Never felt