the tragic aspect of clothing and closing

tissue 4, 5, 6
letter 1, 2, 3
message 7
day 17

tell me when it’s over


/ɑːrrr/, /ɑːrrr/, /ɑːrrr/


the fear of loosing socks
the lowering of luxury
the suffering of a glis glis (dwelling above me)
the awakening of jealousy


the sound of coughing after herbal tea
the sound of lowering a jalousie, <PLI>, <PLI>


shut shut tightly, a little shut-eye


takeaway (french fries) romance, cling cling tightly
every second night
bar fight, pillow fight, sham fight
non-low, low-cost
non-existent or very low


low-cut-dress-dream
low-cut-bra
damn! it’s fitting me (stunningly)
oh and how it’s shaping me


down (Andachtsraum)
downtown (Denkraum)


seven chairs, seven sleepers
shove! shove!
with the seventh finger, with the seventh toe, tee-hee


you and me — the subject
you and me — die Umwelt
you and me — the reverie (or rhapsody)


to understand emotionally
to die dramatically
to revive comically


and how long will it actually take to reach the riverbank/the promenade? 14,15,16?


I know you did it in 13.
12 minutes of Kneipp water treading

inside a pit, a pat on the back


detect something cozy
for example the self as a shelter


I usually wear oversized jackets for the business
and I never mind doing so after finishing


sometimes I cut an empty phrase

form follows fantasy


never open the breast pocket of your shirt
never close the inside pocket of your jacket


appreciate apricity

do at least one headbang a day


friends bi-weekly, love tri-weekly, french fries once a week
and find yourself more forms of truth than you can live with



tissue 7, 8, 9



see your jealousies as good friends

never-trust

evergreen

day 18


the true sadness has no place in that season
rather call it my very own summer
big blue moon, big blue mood

aside aside


(note 10: the body itself is also never closed off; it is composed of material that is not different from
the world surrounding us. ‚the woman beneath the skin’ - B.D.)

(note 11: detected the tragic triangle of social relationships by stitching your name on every sock
like mad, no doubt about it)