and a sleepless night under the eyes always affects
and freezes like a cold frame of iron
in the region of the heart
memory is a bad thing, and very cruel, it turns out
but there is no escape from it, no escape, no escape
and a shot somewhere wanders through the veins
and so much time has passed, but without change and
always bleeds
and I remember you among the dots
because without you I still have – well
nothing adds up
you don’t sleep either. I dreamed about you tonight
the same as in our lost April
in which we have not considered the important
press escape and everything is reset
and other people’s hands are now fast asleep and they won’t hug you
you hastily smoke, and, looking out the window,
swallowing deep cigarette smog
you will understand that you could not stop loving me
but it will remain a secret of yours and someone else’s window
and I will be drunk by someone to the bottom
cold winter
not knowing that I was loved by you …
and time will pass. and someone’s traces will replace ours
in dirty hallways
in which we kissed on slippery steps
or in minibuses, from where they fled
without paying a fare
without fear of judgment…
and there will be few of us
and it will become cramped for us again, getting stuck in the window frames
escape from alien worlds
because of our us someone pushed to hell
but who of us was ready for this …
dawn … still quite early
the wounds bleed again
and sick of cigarettes
and window dust
and the memory fled to lost this April
in which we are not
where we were…