Meine Texte zum Nachhören und Nachlesen
Visit
Visit
While listening to BFBS I’m sitting, sitting and sitting
always on 10 sqm
and I’m waiting, waiting and waiting
always on 10 sqm
boredome is filling me and through me
it is filling, filling and filling
always these 10 sqm
maybe I’m sitting and waiting in my
own-filled boredome boredome boredome boredome
however it is – I’m drinking (in) boredome
always on 10 sqm
I’m waiting for these guys to watch me
like a new-polished car for sale
If views just could kill,... oh no
They all look tired, and I’m tired, too
too tired to bear these dull views
They make me feel like a seldom butterfly
an expensive rarity in human form
strange
strange
strange
it’s a strange, strange among strange strangers
even, or better: especially these white types are strange
They watch me and don’t know where I am. In opposite to me.
I watch them and I do know where they are. That’s the difference.
They meet to visit me do they say
I say they met by chance and then
they visited me again by chance
(cos my door was next to one of them)
But they do not look at me, no
they stare at me, that’s a better word for
what they call a visit, well
they look and look and look –
oh these views, dull, dull, dull
their dullness fills these 10 sqm entirely
but not me, I have my own boredome
and I’m filled with it from top to bottom
what a luck that this room has a window
windows are some kinda life-rescueers in here
they help to survive, at least they help me
to avoid these frightening looks on these
hideous faces
I use the window or my window
and my radio with its neverending BFBS
I instantly listen to the radio then
for minutes, for hours – I know they are there
and they are talking about someone like me
I just know it but I don’t hear that
my ears are deaf towards there monotonous voices
always producing a bla bla on 10 sqm
I suppose they are always in groups
with 3 or more colleagues, because they
feel safer then. They must feel safe all the time
They meet in front of my jail’s door
they chatter and come in then
Standing in front of me
they give me the impression of being –
a black wolf in a crowd of white sheep.
And then they stare at me when
bla bla is beginning awful, really!
They seem to be so helpless, it’s so sad.
What a pity!